by Edgar Allan Poe
(1850)
I will bring fire to thee.EURIPIDES Andiom.
EIROS. Why do you call me Eiros?
CHARMION. So henceforth will you always be called.
You must forget, too, my earthly name, and speak to me as
Charmion.
EIROS. This is indeed no dream!
CHARMION. Dreams are with us no more; but of these
mysteries anon. I rejoice to see you looking like-life and
rational. The film of the shadow has already passed from off
your eyes. Be of heart and fear nothing. Your allotted days of
stupor have expired; and, to-morrow, I will myself induct you
into the full joys and wonders of your novel existence.
EIROS. True, I feel no stupor, none at all. The
wild sickness and the terrible darkness have left me, and I
hear no longer that mad, rushing, horrible sound, like the
"voice of many waters." Yet my senses are bewildered, Charmion,
with the keenness of their perception of the new.
CHARMION. A few days will remove all this;- but I
fully understand you, and feel for you. It is now ten earthly
years since I underwent what you undergo, yet the remembrance
of it hangs by me still. You have now suffered all of pain,
however, which you will suffer in Aidenn.
EIROS. In Aidenn?
CHARMION. In Aidenn.
EIROS. Oh, God!- pity me, Charmion!- I am
overburthened with the majesty of all things- of the unknown
now known- of the speculative Future merged in the august and
certain Present.
CHARMION. Grapple not now with such thoughts.
Tomorrow we will speak of this. Your mind wavers, and its
agitation will find relief in the exercise of simple memories.
Look not around, nor forward- but back. I am burning with
anxiety to hear the details of that stupendous event which
threw you among us. Tell me of it. Let us converse of familiar
things, in the old familiar language of the world which has so
fearfully perished.
EIROS. Most fearfully, fearfully!- this is indeed
no dream.
CHARMION. Dreams are no more. Was I much mourned,
my Eiros?
EIROS. Mourned, Charmion?- oh deeply. To that last
hour of all, there hung a cloud of intense gloom and devout
sorrow over your household.
CHARMION. And that last hour- speak of it.
Remember that, beyond the naked fact of the catastrophe itself,
I know nothing. When, coming out from among mankind, I passed
into Night through the Grave- at that period, if I remember
aright, the calamity which overwhelmed you was utterly
unanticipated. But, indeed, I knew little of the speculative
philosophy of the day.
EIROS. The individual calamity was, as you say,
entirely unanticipated; but analogous misfortunes had been long
a subject of discussion with astronomers. I need scarce tell
you, my friend, that, even when you left us, men had agreed to
understand those passages in the most holy writings which speak
of the final destruction of all things by fire, as having
reference to the orb of the earth alone. But in regard to the
immediate agency of the ruin, speculation had been at fault
from that epoch in astronomical knowledge in which the comets
were divested of the terrors of flame. The very moderate
density of these bodies had been well established. They had
been observed to pass among the satellites of Jupiter, without
bringing about any sensible alteration either in the masses or
in the orbits of these secondary planets. We had long regarded
the wanderers as vapory creations of inconceivable tenuity, and
as altogether incapable of doing injury to our substantial
globe, even in the event of contact. But contact was not in any
degree dreaded; for the elements of all the comets were
accurately known. That among them we should look for the agency
of the threatened fiery destruction had been for many years
considered an inadmissible idea. But wonders and wild fancies
had been, of late days, strangely rife among mankind; and
although it was only with a few of the ignorant that actual
apprehension prevailed, upon the announcement by astronomers of
a new comet, yet this announcement was generally received with
I know not what of agitation and mistrust.
The elements of the strange orb were immediately
calculated, and it was at once conceded by all observers, that
its path, at perihelion, would bring it into very close
proximity with the earth. There were two or three astronomers,
of secondary note, who resolutely maintained that a contact was
inevitable. I cannot very well express to you the effect of
this intelligence upon the people. For a few short days they
would not believe an assertion which their intellect, so long
employed among worldly considerations, could not in any manner
grasp. But the truth of a vitally important fact soon makes its
way into the understanding of even the most stolid. Finally,
all men saw that astronomical knowledge lied not, and they
awaited the comet. Its approach was not, at first, seemingly
rapid; nor was its appearance of very unusual character. It was
of a dull red, and had little perceptible train. For seven or
eight days we saw no material increase in its apparent
diameter, and but a partial alteration in its color. Meantime
the ordinary affairs of men were discarded, and all interests
absorbed in a growing discussion, instituted by the
philosophic, in respect to the cometary nature. Even the
grossly ignorant aroused their sluggish capacities to such
considerations. The learned now gave their intellect- their
soul- to no such points as the allaying of fear, or to the
sustenance of loved theory. They sought- they panted for right
views. They groaned for perfected knowledge. Truth arose in the
purity of her strength and exceeding majesty, and the wise
bowed down and adored.
That material injury to our globe or to its
inhabitants would result from the apprehended contact, was an
opinion which hourly lost ground among the wise; and the wise
were now freely permitted to rule the reason and the fancy of
the crowd. It was demonstrated, that the density of the comet's
nucleus was far less than that of our rarest gas; and the
harmless passage of a similar visitor among the satellites of
Jupiter was a point strongly insisted upon, and which served
greatly to allay terror. Theologists, with an earnestness
fear-enkindled, dwelt upon the biblical prophecies, and
expounded them to the people with a directness and simplicity
of which no previous instance had been known. That the final
destruction of the earth must be brought about by the agency of
fire, was urged with a spirit that enforced everywhere
conviction; and that the comets were of no fiery nature (as all
men now knew) was a truth which relieved all, in a great
measure, from the apprehension of the great calamity foretold.
It is noticeable that the popular prejudices and vulgar errors
in regard to pestilences and wars- errors which were wont to
prevail upon every appearance of a comet- were now altogether
unknown. As if by some sudden convulsive exertion, reason had
at once hurled superstition from her throne. The feeblest
intellect had derived vigor from excessive interest.
What minor evils might arise from the contact were
points of elaborate question. The learned spoke of slight
geological disturbances, of probable alterations in climate,
and consequently in vegetation; of possible magnetic and
electric influences. Many held that no visible or perceptible
effect would in any manner be produced. While such discussions
were going on, their subject gradually approached, growing
larger in apparent diameter, and of a more brilliant lustre.
Mankind grew paler as it came. All human operations were
suspended. There was an epoch in the course of the general
sentiment when the comet had attained, at length, a size
surpassing that of any previously recorded visitation. The
people now, dismissing any lingering hope that the astronomers
were wrong, experienced all the certainty of evil. The
chimerical aspect of their terror was gone. The hearts of the
stoutest of our race beat violently within their bosoms. A very
few days sufficed, however, to merge even such feelings in
sentiments more unendurable. We could no longer apply to the
strange orb any accustomed thoughts. Its historical attributes
had disappeared. It oppressed us with a hideous novelty of
emotion. We saw it not as an astronomical phenomenon in the
heavens, but as an incubus upon our hearts, and a shadow upon
our brains. It had taken, with inconceivable rapidity, the
character of a gigantic mantle of rare flame, extending from
horizon to horizon.
Yet a day, and men breathed with greater freedom.
It was clear that we were already within the influence of the
comet; yet we lived. We even felt an unusual elasticity of
frame and vivacity of mind. The exceeding tenuity of the object
of our dread was apparent; for all heavenly objects were
plainly visible through it. Meantime, our vegetation had
perceptibly altered; and we gained faith, from this predicted
circumstance, in the foresight of the wise. A wild luxuriance
of foliage, utterly unknown before, burst out upon every
vegetable thing.
Yet another day- and the evil was not altogether
upon us. It was now evident that its nucleus would first reach
us. A wild change had come over all men; and the first sense of
pain was the wild signal for general lamentation and horror.
This first sense of pain lay in a rigorous constriction of the
breast and lungs, and an insufferable dryness of the skin. It
could not be denied that our atmosphere was radically affected;
the conformation of this atmosphere and the possible
modifications to which it might be subjected, were now the
topics of discussion. The result of investigation sent an
electric thrill of the intensest terror through the universal
heart of man.
It had been long known that the air which
encircled us was a compound of oxygen and nitrogen gases, in
the proportion of twenty-one measures of oxygen, and
seventy-nine of nitrogen, in every one hundred of the
atmosphere. Oxygen, which was the principle of combustion, and
the vehicle of heat, was absolutely necessary to the support of
animal life, and was the most powerful and energetic agent in
nature. Nitrogen, on the contrary, was incapable of supporting
either animal life or flame. An unnatural excess of oxygen
would result, it had been ascertained, in just such an
elevation of the animal spirits as we had latterly experienced.
It was the pursuit, the extension of the idea, which had
engendered awe. What would be the result of a total extraction
of the nitrogen? A combustion irresistible, all-devouring,
omni-prevalent, immediate; the entire fulfillment, in all their
minute and terrible details, of the fiery and horror-inspiring
denunciations of the prophecies of the Holy Book.
Why need I paint, Charmion, the now disenchained
frenzy of mankind? That tenuity in the comet which had
previously inspired us with hope, was now the source of the
bitterness of despair. In its impalpable gaseous character we
clearly perceived the consummation of Fate. Meantime a day
again passed, bearing away with it the last shadow of Hope. We
gasped in the rapid modification of the air. The red blood
bounded tumultuously through its strict channels. A furious
delirium possessed all men; and, with arms rigidly outstretched
toward the threatening heavens, they trembled and shrieked
aloud. But the nucleus of the destroyer was now upon us; even
here in Aidenn, I shudder while I speak. Let me be brief- brief
as the ruin that overwhelmed. For a moment there was a wild
lurid light alone, visiting and penetrating all things. Then-
let us bow down, Charmion, before the excessive majesty of the
great God!- then, there came a shouting and pervading sound, as
if from the mouth itself of HIM; while the whole incumbent mass
of ether in which we existed, burst at once into a species of
intense flame, for whose surpassing brilliancy and all-fervid
heat even the angels in the high Heaven of pure knowledge have
no name. Thus ended all.