CHAPTER IV. THE WANDERER'S REVERIE. "Come and see The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way O'er steps of broken thrones and temples! Cypress and ivy, weed and wall-flower, grown, On what were chambers, arch crushed, column strewn THE earth is covered with ruins, piled themselves upon the ruins of an earlier age; the atmosphere is thick with the shadows of history; our ear is filled with the hum of perished nations. After a walk of only two leagues from Tancarville, we are still untired; but the disc of the sun has disappeared beneath the horizon, and the stillness of the hour, and the dusky tints of the sky, invite the body to repose, while they awaken the mind to more vigorous life. Seated on a moss-covered stone, beetling over the brow of a hill, we gaze into a rich and profound valley, where the shadows of twilight are already deepening into gloom. What strange pageant is this which passes before our vision? Do we see with the eye of the senses or that of the spirit? Creeping along the bottom of the valley, weary and slow, there first appear some uncouth yet indefinite forms, their sandals soiled with the travel of years, and their backs laden with the pledges of their pilgrim-love, desert-born. Troop after troop they come, perchance from the land of Egypt, or from the mountains of the Caucasus, or from farther India. They look around them in the shadowy valley; some climb the steeps, and some fling themselves on the earth, exhausted. But finally they gather in a group, in the middle; and straightway rude dwellings arise on the solitary spot, and the wanderers sit down as in an abiding place and a continuing city. A voice in the valley! It is the sound of prayer and worshipping. The sun when it shines, and the moon walking in brightness, are their visible deities; and they go up to the high places of their rocks (like those of old Phoenicia), to meet the stars as they come trooping over the hill. But after a time they are seized with fear, if their gods are unseen in the sky; and they look round, quaking, in search of relief from the indefinite dread, which sits like the night-hag on their souls. And then some old men arise from among them-old men with white heads, and lofty brows, and deep bright eyes-and go apart from the sons and daughters of their people. And the men of the city of huts follow them afar off, and the old men minister between them and the invisible deities of the world. On the tops of mountains, or in the depths of forests, they build edifices of unhewn stones, in shape like the sun, or like the moon when it is full; and, at their call, the deities descend invisibly from their sphere to inhabit the temples appointed for them. Then a deeper dread seizes upon the people; the whole world becomes a mystery; they read prophecies in the starry heavens, and hear, as of old, the voice of the Lord God among the trees. And they bow down before their priests, and beat their foreheads upon the ground; and the father offers up the first-born as a blood-offering, and the mother tears the lips of her infant from her full breast, and flings it into the fire of sacrifice. Clouds in the valley-a sea of tumbling clouds! Darkness in the heavens, and thick darkness on the earth! But a mighty wind at length arises in the south, and drives before it the rack of the sky, and the shadows of the land. The clash of arms is borne on the gust, and here and there the glitter of steel is seen, like flashes of lightning, through the gloom. A wail ascends from the valley! The city of huts is on fire! and as the flames sink and disappear at intervals, a hissing sound is heard from the embers. Through the smoke and fire are seen the forms of another race, steelclad, and terrible in their aspect, like the gods when they warred with men. As the chaos disappears, we see towers and temples rising from the ruins of the huts; a vast fortress guards the new city, and highways, fit for the tread of giants, radiate from a spot which might seem the centre of the world. The masters of the valley laugh at the old altars of Teutates, yet adore the god, recognising his identity with their own Mercurius, with Hermes, Thoth, and the early deity of every nation their arms had subdued. Their own heaven, however, is more capacious. Their pantheon comprehends all nature, both moral and physical, separated in its various forms and attributes; every phenomenon affording a myth; every element, every passion, every class of objects recognisable by the senses individualised into a god; every god represented by a symbol. They worship every virtue, every vice, every sentiment — peace, war, death, and hell-the angels and the furies-trees, stones, and rivers-voices, and the echoes of a voice. They divide the universe of mind and matter into its component atoms, and every atom is a god. Mirth in the valley! Mirth and laughter, with shrieks between-the shrieks of the victim and the slave. The altars are strewn with flowers, sprinkled with wine and tears, and perfumed with incense mingled with sighs. The clash of cymbals is heard instead of the clash of swords; the helmet is thrown aside for the garland; processions take place of marches; and the thirsty eagle of Rome, once gorged with blood, is now drunken with wine. Chaos again in the valley!-rebellion, and treachery, and strife, and struggling; and in the midst a still small voice proclaiming peace on earth, and good-will to men! Again there is the sound of marching, and the voice of war, and the hissing of flame, and the gush of blood. The eyes of the old eagle are dim with voluptuousness, and his limbs enervated with debauchery. The Cross is raised as the standard at once of religion and revolt; it proclaims the equality of men in the sight of God; and the cry goes forth-" Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty!" The old altars are overthrown; the statues of marble, and of gold, and of silver, are broken to pieces; the barbarians who had stood at the frontiers of the empire, gazing in as at a wonder and a show, now crowd into the centre; the oppressed, the discontented, the ambitious, and the devout,-all form different parties in the state; the prestige vanishes like a dream which encompassed the old Roman name; and, vanquished at once by effeminacy, treachery, true religion, and the sword, the empire falls! Darkness again in the valley! Amidst storms and earthquakes, a bold and warlike, but savage race build their rude fortresses among the palaces of the Cæsars. Soon the clouds are dispelled, and the tempest hushed; and the golden sceptre of Charlemagne, stretched from horizon to horizon, looks like a rainbow in the heavens. The old temples, however, are upreared anew; sacrifices are still offered, but of treasure instead of blood; and gods of stone worshipped as before, but under the name of saints. The new idolaters surpass in profanity even the Hindoos, for they represent Brahma himself, or the Supreme, in their simulacra; but, unlike them, they never pray to him, contenting themselves with the meaner deities of the Christian mythology.* *The Emperor Constantine decreed the public exercise of the Christian religion in the year 325. This was a proof of the weakness of despotism; and the bishops were not slow in taking advantage of circumstances, so as to throw off altogether the yoke of civil jurisdiction. Immediately after the conquest of Gaul by the Franks, under Clovis, the priestly order seems to have been still higher than that of the nobles; |