-am I
preserved
for this?
Warner - World's Best Literature - v03 - Bag to Ber
Withdraw yourself.
[Exit Lady.
Philaster -
Madam, your messenger
Made me believe you wished to speak with me.
Arethusa — 'Tis true, Philaster, but the words are such
I have to say, and do so ill beseem
The mouth of woman, that I wish them said,
And yet am loath to speak them. Have you known
That I have aught detracted from your worth?
Have I in person wronged you? or have set
My baser instruments to throw disgrace
Upon your virtues ?
Philaster - Never, madam, you.
Arethusa — Why then should you, in such a public place,
Injure a princess, and a scandal lay
Upon my fortunes, famed to be so great,
Calling a great part of my dowry in question ?
Philaster – Madam, this truth which I shall speak will be
Foolish: but, for your fair and virtuous self,
I could afford myself to have no right
To any thing you wished.
Arethusa --
Philaster, know,
I must enjoy these kingdoms.
Philaster -
Madam, both ?
Arethusa -Both, or I die; by fate, I die, Philaster,
If I not calmly may enjoy them both.
Philaster -- I would do much to save that noble life,
Yet would be loath to have posterity
Find in our stories, that Philaster gave
His right unto a sceptre and a crown
To save a lady's longing.
Arethusa —
Nay, then, hear:
I inust and will have them, and more
Philaster
What more?
Arethusa Or lose that little life the gods prepared
To trouble this poor piece of earth withal.
Philaster Madam, what more ?
Arethusa -
Turn, then, away thy face.
## p. 1688 (#486) ###########################################
1688
FRANCIS BEAUMONT AND JOHN FLETCHER
Philaster – No.
Arethusa - Do.
Philaster - I can endure it. Turn away my face!
I never yet saw enemy that looked
So dreadfully, but that I thought myself
As great a basilisk as he; or spake
So horribly, but that I thought my tongue
Bore thunder underneath, as much as his;
Nor beast that I could turn from: shall I then
Begin to fear sweet sounds ? a lady's voice,
Whom I do love? Say, you would have my life:
Why, I will give it you; for 'tis to me
A thing so loathed, and unto you that ask
Of so poor use, that I shall make no price:
If you entreat, I will unmovedly hear.
Arethusa Yet, for my sake, a little bend thy looks.
Philaster - I do.
Arethusa — Then know, I must have them and thee.
Philaster — And me?
Arethusa - Thy love; without which, all the land
Discovered yet will serve me for no use
But to be buried in.
Philaster -
Is't possible?
Arethusa — With it, it were too little to bestow
On thee. Now, though thy breath do strike me dead,
(Which, know, it may,) I have unript my breast.
Philaster — Madam, you are too full of noble thoughts
To lay a train for this contemned life,
Which you may have for asking: to suspect
Were base, where I deserve no ill.
Love you!
By all my hopes I do, above my life!
But how this passion should proceed from you
So violently, would amaze a man
That would be jealous.
Arethusa Another soul into my body shot
Could not have filled me with more strength and spirit
Than this thy breath. But spend not hasty time
In seeking how I came thus: 'tis the gods,
The gods, that make me so; and sure, our love
Will be the nobler and the better blest,
In that the secret justice of the gods
Is mingled with it. Let us leave, and kiss :
Lest some unwelcome guest should fall betwixt us,
And we should part without it.
## p. 1689 (#487) ###########################################
FRANCIS BEAUMONT AND JOHN FLETCHER
1689
Philaster
'Twill be ill
I should abide here long.
Arethusa -
'Tis true: and worse
You should come often. How shall we devise
To hold intelligence, that our true loves,
On any new occasion, may agree
What path is best to tread ?
Philaster
I have a boy,
Sent by the gods, I hope, to this intent,
Yet not seen in the court. Hunting the buck,
I found him sitting by a fountain's side,
Of which he borrowed some to quench his thirst,
And paid the nymph again as much in tears.
A garland lay him by, made by himself
Of many several flowers bred in the vale,
Stuck in that mystic order that the rareness
Delighted me; but ever when he turned
His tender eyes upon 'em, he would weep,
As if he meant to make 'em grow again.
Seeing such pretty helpless innocence
Dwell in his face, I asked him all his story.
He told me that his parents gentle died,
Leaving him to the mercy of the fields,
Which gave him roots; and of the crystal springs,
Which did not stop their courses; and the sun,
Which still, he thanked him, yielded him his light.
Then took he up his garland, and did show
What every flower, as country-people hold,
Did signify, and how all, ordered thus,
Expressed his grief; and, to my thoughts, did read
The prettiest lecture of his country-art
That could be wished: so that methought I could
Have studied it. I gladly entertained
Him, who was glad to follow: and have got
The trustiest, loving'st, and the gentlest boy
That ever master kept. Him will I send
To wait on you, and bear our hidden love.
## p. 1690 (#488) ###########################################
1690
FRANCIS BEAUMONT AND JOHN FLETCHER
THE STORY OF BELLARIO
P"
HILASTER — But, Bellario
(For I must call thee still so), tell me why
Thou didst conceal thy sex. It was a fault,
A fault, Bellario, though thy other deeds
Of truth outweighed it: all these jealousies
Had flown to nothing, if thou hadst discovered
What now we know.
Bellario
My father oft would speak
Your worth and virtue; and as I did grow
More and more apprehensive, I did thirst
To see the man so praised. But yet all this
Was but a maiden-longing, to be lost
As soon as found; till, sitting in my window,
Printing my thoughts in lawn, I saw a god,
I thought (but it was you), enter our gates:
My blood few out and back again, as fast
As I had puffed it forth and sucked it in
Like breath; then was I called away in haste
To entertain you.
Never was a man
Heaved from a sheep-cote to a sceptre, raised
So high in thoughts as I. You left a kiss
Upon these lips then, which I mean to keep
From you for ever; I did hear you talk,
Far above singing. After you were gone,
I grew acquainted with my heart, and searched
What stirred it so: alas, I found it love!
Yet far from lust; for, could I but have lived
In presence of you, I had had my end.
For this I did delude my noble father
With a feigned pilgrimage, and dressed myself
In habit of a boy; and, for I knew
My birth no match for you, I was past hope
Of having you; and, understanding well
That when I made discovery of my sex
I could not stay with you, I made a vow,
By all the most religious things a maid
Could call together, never to be known,
Whilst there was hope to hide me from men's eyes,
For other than I seemed, that I might ever
Abide with you. Then sat I by the fount,
Where first you took me up.
## p. 1691 (#489) ###########################################
FRANCIS BEAUMONT AND JOHN FLETCHER
1691
King -
Search out a match
Within our kingdom, where and when thou wilt,
And I will pay thy dowry; and thyself
Wilt well deserve him.
Bellario -Never, sir, will I
Marry; it is a thing within my vow:
But if I may have leave to serve the princess,
To see the virtues of her lord and her,
I shall have hope to live.
Arethusa
I, Philaster,
Cannot be jealous, though you had a lady
Drest like a page to serve you; nor will I
Suspect her living here. - Come, live with me;
Live free as I do. She that loves my lord,
Cursed be the wife that hates her!
FROM "THE MAID'S TRAGEDY )
CONFESSION OF EVADNE TO AMINTOR
VADNE
E
Would I could say so [farewell] to my black dis-
grace!
Oh, where have I been all this time? how friended,
That I should lose myself thus desperately,
And none for pity show me how I wandered ?
There is not in the compass of the light
A more unhappy creature : sure, I am monstrous;
For I have done those follies, those mad mischiefs,
Would dare a woman. Oh, my loaden soul,
Be not so cruel to me; choke not up
The way to my repentance!
[Enter Amintor. ]
O my lord!
Amintor How now?
Evadne --
My much-abused lord ! [Kneels.
Amintor
This cannot be!
Evadne — I do not kneel to live; I dare not hope it;
The wrongs I did are greater. Look upon . me,
Though I appear with all my faults.
Amintor -
This is a new way to beget more sorrows:
Heaven knows I have too many. Do not mock me:
Stand up.
## p. 1692 (#490) ###########################################
1692
FRANCIS BEAUMONT AND JOHN FLETCHER
Though I am tame, and bred up with my wrongs,
Which are my foster-brothers, I may leap,
Like a hand-wolf, into my natural wildness,
And do an outrage: prithee, do not mock me.
Evadne. - My whole life is so leprous, it infects
All my repentance. I would buy your pardon,
Though at the highest set, even with my life:
That slight contrition, that's no sacrifice
For what I have committed.
Amintor –
Sure, I dazzle:
There cannot be a faith in that foul woman,
That knows no God more mighty than her inischiefs.
Thou dost still worse, still number on thy faults,
To press my poor heart thus. Can I believe
There's any seed of virtue in that woman
Left to shoot up that dares go on in sin
Known, and so known as thine is ? O Evadne!
Would there were any safety in thy sex,
That I might put a thousand sorrows off,
And credit thy repentance! but I must not:
Thou hast brought me to that dull calamity,
To that strange misbelief of all the world
And all things that are in it, that I fear
I shall fall like a tree, and find my grave,
Only remembering that I grieve.
Evadne -
My lord,
Give me your griefs: you are an innocent,
A soul as white as Heaven; let not my sins
Perish your noble youth. I do not fall here
To shadow by dissembling with my tears,
(As all say women can,) or to make less
What my hot will hath done, which Heaven and you
Know to be tougher than the hand of time
Can cut from man's remembrances; no, I do not;
I do appear the same, the same Evadne,
Drest in the shames I lived in, the same monster.
But these are names of honor to what I am:
I do present myself the foulest creature,
Most poisonous, dangerous, and despised of men,
Lerna e'er bred, or Nilus. I am hell,
Till you, my dear lord, shoot your light into me,
The beams of your forgiveness; I am soul-sick,
And wither with the fear of one condemned,
Till I have got your pardon.
## p. 1693 (#491) ###########################################
FRANCIS BEAUMONT AND JOHN FLETCHER
1693
Amintor -
Rise, Evadne.
Those heavenly powers that put this good into thee
Grant a continuance of it! I forgive thee:
Make thyself worthy of it; and take heed,
Take heed, Evadne, this be serious.
Mock not the powers above, that can and dare
Give thee a great example of their justice
To all ensuing ages, if thou playest
With thy repentance, the best sacrifice.
Evadne — I have done nothing good to win belief,
My life hath been so faithless. All the creatures
Made for Heaven's honors have their ends, and good ones,
All but the cozening crocodiles, false women:
They reign here like those plagues, those killing sores,
Men pray against; and when they die, like tales
Ill told and unbelieved, they pass away,
And go to dust forgotten. But, my lord,
Those short days I shall number to my rest
(As many must not see me) shall, though too late,
Though in my evening, yet perceive a will,
Since I can do no good, because a woman,
Reach constantly at something that is near it;
I will redeem one minute of my age,
Or, like another Niobe, I'll weep,
Till I am water.
Amintor - I am now dissolved:
My frozen soul melts. May each sin thou hast,
Find a new mercy! Rise; I am at peace.
(Evadne rises. ]
Hadst thou been thus, thus excellently good,
Before that devil-king tempted thy frailty,
Sure thou hadst made a star. Give me thy hand:
From this time I will know thee; and as far
As honor gives me leave, be thy Amintor.
When we meet next, I will salute thee fairly,
And pray the gods to give thee happy days:
My charity shall go along with thee,
Though my embraces must be far from thee.
I should have killed thee, but this sweet repentance
Locks up my vengeance: for which thus I kiss thee –
[Kisses her. ]
The last kiss we must take; and would to Heaven
The holy priest that gave our hands together
Had given us equal virtues! Go, Evadne;
## p. 1694 (#492) ###########################################
1694
FRANCIS BEAUMONT AND JOHN FLETCHER
The gods thus part our bodies. Have a care
My honor falls no farther: I am well, then.
Evadne — All the dear joys here, and above hereafter,
Crown thy fair soul! Thus I take leave, my lord;
And never shall you see the foul Evadne,
Till she have tried all honored means, that may
Set her in rest and wash her stains away.
FROM BONDUCA)
THE DEATH OF THE BOY HENGO
(Scene : A field between the British and the Roman camps. ]
ARATACH How does my boy?
Hengo- I would do well; my heart's well;
I do not fear.
Caratach -
My good boy!
Hengo
I know, uncle,
We must all die: my little brother died;
I saw him die, and he died smiling; sure,
There's no great pain in't, uncle. But pray tell me,
Whither must we go when we are dead ?
Caratach aside -
Strange questions!
Why, the blessed'st place, boy! ever sweetness
And happiness dwell there.
Hengo -
Will you come to me ?
Caratach -- Yes, my sweet boy.
Hengo-
Mine aunt too, and my cousins ?
Caratach — All, my good child.
Hengo-
No Romans, uncle?
Caratach
No, boy.
Hengo— I should be loath to meet them there.
Caratach
No ill men,
That live by violence and strong oppression,
Come thither: 'tis for those the gods love, good men.
Hengo— Why, then, I care not when I go, for surely
I am persuaded they love me: I never
Blasphemed 'em, uncle, nor transgressed my parents;
I always said my prayers.
Caratach -
Thou shalt go, then;
Indeed thou shalt.
Hengo-
When they please.
Caratach --
That's my good boy!
Art thou not weary, Hengo ?
## p. 1695 (#493) ###########################################
FRANCIS BEAUMONT AND JOHN FLETCHER
1695
Hengo -
Weary, uncle!
I have heard you say you have marched all day in armor.
Caratach — I have, boy.
Hengo-
Am not I your kinsman ?
Caratach -
Yes.
Hengo — And am not I as fully allied unto you
In those brave things as blood ?
Caratach-
Thou art too tender.
Hengo-- To go upon my legs? they were made to bear me.
I can play twenty miles a day; I see no reason
But, to preserve my country and myself,
I should march forty.
Caratach —
What wouldst thou be, living
To wear a man's strength!
Hengo-
Why, a Caratach,
A Roman-hater, a scourge sent from Heaven
To whip these proud thieves from our kingdom. Hark!
[Drum within.
[They are on a rock in the rear of a wood. ]
Caratach — Courage, my boy! I have found meat: look,
Hengo,
Look where some blessed Briton, to preserve thee,
Has hung a little food and drink: cheer up, boy;
Do not forsake me now.
Hengo—
uncle, uncle,
I feel I cannot stay long! yet I'll fetch it,
To keep your noble life. Uncle, I am heart-whole,
And would live.
Caratach Thou shalt, long, I hope.
Hengo--
But my head, uncle!
Methinks the rock goes round.
[Enter Macer and Judas, and remain at the side of the stage. ]
Macer-
Mark 'em well, Judas.
Judas – Peace, as you love your life.
Hengo-
Do not you hear
The noise of bells?
Caratach-
Of bells, boy ! 'tis thy fancy;
Alas, thy body's full of wind!
Hengo-
Methinks, sir,
They ring a strange sad knell, a preparation
## p. 1696 (#494) ###########################################
1696
FRANCIS BEAUMONT AND JOHN FLETCHER
To some near funeral of state: nay, weep not,
Mine own sweet uncle; you will kill me sooner.
Caratach – 0 my poor chicken!
Hengo-
Fie, faint-hearted uncle!
Come, tie me in your belt and let me down.
Caratach - I'll go myself, boy.
Hengo —
No, as you love me, uncle:
I will not eat it, if I do not fetch it;
The danger only I desire: pray, tie me.
[child,
Caratach -- I will, and all my care hang o'er thee! Come,
My valiant child!
Hengo — Let me down apace, uncle,
And you shall see how like a daw I'll whip it
From all their policies; for 'tis most certain
A Roman train: and you must hold me sure, too;
You'll spoil all else. When I have brought it, uncle,
We'll be as merry —
Caratach-
Go, i' the name of Heaven, boy!
(Lets Hengo down by his belt.
Hengo ---Quick, quick, uncle! I have it.
(Judas shots Hengo with an arrow. ] Oh!
Caratach-
What ail'st thou?
Hengo - Oh, my best uncle, I am slain!
Caratach (to Judas) -
And Heaven direct my hand! destruction
Go with thy coward soul!
(Kills Judas with a stone, and then draws up Hengo. Exit Macer. )
How dost thou, boy? —
O villain, pocky villain!
Hengo---
Oh, uncle, uncle,
Oh, how it pricks me!
-am I preserved for this?
Extremely pricks me!
Caratach
Coward, rascal coward!
Dogs eat thy flesh!
Hengo — Oh, I bleed hard! I faint too; out upon't,
How sick I am! — The lean rogue, uncle!
Caratach -
Look, boy;
I have laid him sure enough.
Hengo -
Have you knocked his brains out?
Caratach-I warrant thee, for stirring more: cheer up.
child.
Hengo — Hold my sides hard; stop, stop; oh, wretched
fortune,
Must we part thus ? Still I grow sicker, uncle.
I see you,
## p. 1697 (#495) ###########################################
FRANCIS BEAUMONT AND JOHN FLETCHER
1697
Carałach - Heaven look upon this noble child!
Hengo
I once hoped
I should have lived to have met these bloody Romans
At my sword's point, to have revenged my father,
To have beaten 'em, -oh, hold me hard ! — but, uncle —
Caratach — Thou shalt live still, I hope, boy. Shall I
draw it?
Hengo — You draw away my soul, then. I would live
A little longer - spare me, Heavens ! -- but only
To thank you for your tender love: good uncle,
Good noble uncle, weep not.
Caratach
O my chicken,
My dear boy, what shall I lose ?
Hengo —
Why, a child,
That must have died however; had this 'scaped me,
Fever or famine - I was born to die, sir.
Caratach -- But thus unblown, my boy?
Hengo —
I go the straighter
My journey to the gods. Sure, I shall know you
When you come, uncle.
Caratach-
Yes, boy.
Hengo --
And I hope
We shall enjoy together that great blessedness
You told me of.
Caratach - Most certain, child.
Hingo-
I grow cold;
Mine eyes are going.
Caratach
Lift 'em up.
Hengo -
Pray for me;
And, noble uncle, when my bones are ashes,
Think of your little nephew! - Mercy!
Caratach
Mercy!
You blessèd angels, take him!
Hengo -
Kiss me: so.
Farewell, farewell!
Dies.
Caratach - Farewell, the hopes of Britain !
Thou royal graft, farewell for ever! —Time and Death,
Ye have done your worst. Fortune, now see, now proudly
Pluck off thy veil and view thy triumph; look,
Look what thou hast brought this land to! -( fair flower,
How lovely yet thy ruins show, how sweetly
Even death embraces thee! the peace of Heaven,
The fellowship of all great souls, be with thee!
111-107
## p. 1698 (#496) ###########################################
1698
FRANCIS BEAUMONT AND JOHN FLETCHER
FROM "THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN)
By SHAKESPEARE AND FLETCHER
R
OSES, their sharp spines being gone,
Not royal in their smells alone,
But in their hue;
Maiden-pinks, of odor faint,
Daisies sinell-less yet most quaint,
And sweet thyme true;
Primrose, first-born child of Ver,
Merry spring-time's harbinger,
With her bells dim;
Oxlips in their cradles growing,
Marigolds on death-beds blowing,
Larks'-heels trim.
All, dear Nature's children sweet,
Lie 'fore bride and bridegroom's feet,
Blessing their sense!
Not an angel of the air,
Bird melodious or bird fair,
Be absent hence!
The crow, the slanderous cuckoo, nor
The boding raven, nor chough hoar,
Nor chattering pie,
May on our bride-house perch or sing,
Or with them any discord bring,
But from it fly!
## p. 1699 (#497) ###########################################
1699
WILLIAM BECKFORD
(1759-1844)
(
HE translation from a defective Arabic manuscript of the
Book of the Thousand Nights and A Night, first into the
French by Galland, about 1705, and presently into various
English versions, exerted an immediate influence on French, Ger-
man, and English romance. The pseudo-Oriental or semi-Oriental tale
of home-manufacture sprang into existence right and left with the
publishers of London and Paris, and in German centres of letters.
Hope's Anastasius, or Memoirs of a Modern Greek,' Lewis's The
Monk, the German Hauff's admirable
(Stories of the Caravan, the Inn, and the
Palace, Rückert's Tales of the Genii,' and
William Beckford's History of the Caliph
Vathek,' are among the finest performances
of the sort : productions more or less East-
ern in sentiment and in their details of
local color, but independent of direct ori-
ginals in the Persian or Arabic, so far as is
conclusively known.
William Beckford, born at London in
1759 (of a strong line which included a
governor of Jamaica), dying in 1844, is a
figure of distinction merely as an English William BECKFORD
man of his time, aside from his one claim
to literary remembrance. His father's death left him the richest
untitled citizen of England. He was not sent to a university, but
immense care was given to his education, in which Lord Chatham
personally interested himself; and he traveled widely. The result
of this, on a very receptive mind with varied natural gifts, was to
make Beckford an ideal dilettante. His tastes in literature, painting,
music in which Mozart was his tutor), sculpture, architecture, and
what not, were refined to the highest nicety. He was able to gratify
each of them as such a man can rarely have the means to do. He
built palaces and towers of splendor instead of merely a beautiful
country seat. He tried to reproduce Vathek's halls in stone and
stucco, employing relays of workmen by day and night, on two sev-
eral occasions and estates, for many months. Where other men got
together moderate collections of bibelots, Beckford amassed whole
museums. If a builder's neglect or a fire destroyed his rarities and
damaged his estates to the extent of forty or fifty thousand pounds,
## p. 1700 (#498) ###########################################
1700
WILLIAM BECKFORD
a
Beckford merely rebuilt and re-collected. These tastes and lavish
expenditures gradually set themselves in a current toward things
Eastern. His magnificent retreat at Cintra in Portugal, his vast
Fonthill Abbey and Lansdowne Hill estates in England, were only
appanages of his sumptuous state. England and Europe talked of
him and of his properties. He was a typical egotist: but an agree-
able and gracious man, esteemed by a circle of friends not called
upon to be his sycophants; and he kept in close touch with the intel-
lectual life of all Europe.
He wrote much, for an amateur, and in view of the tale which
does him most honor, he wrote with success. At twenty he invited
publicity with a satiric jeu d'esprit, Biographical Memoirs of Extraor-
dinary Painters'; and his Italy, with Sketches of Spain and Port-
ugal,' and 'Recollections of an Excursion to the Monasteries of
Alcobaba and Baltalha,' were well received. But these books could
not be expected to survive even three generations; whereas "Vathek,'
the brilliant, the unique, the inimitable Vathek, took at once
place in literature which we may now almost dare to call perma-
nent. This story, not a long one,- indeed, no more than a novel-
ette in size, was originally written in French, and still lives in that
language; in which an edition, hardly the best, has lately been
issued under the editorship of M. Mallarmé. But its history is com-
plicated by one of the most notable acts of literary treachery and
theft on record. During the author's slow and finicky composition of
it at Lausanne, he was sending it piecemeal to his friend Robert
Henley in England for Henley to make an English version, of course
to be revised by himself. As soon as Henley had all the parts, he
published a hasty and slipshod translation, before Beckford had seen
it or was even ready to publish the French original; and not only
did so, but published it as a tale translated by himself from a gen-
uine Arabic original. This double violation of good faith of course
enraged Beckford, and practically separated the two men for the rest
of their lives; indeed, the wonder is that Beckford would ever recog-
nize Henley's existence again. The piracy was exposed and set
aside, and Beckford in self-defense issued the story himself in French
as soon as he could; indeed, he issued it in two versions with curi-
ous and interesting differences, one published at Lausanne and the
other at Paris. The Lausanne edition is preferable.
Vathek) abides to-day accredited to Beckford in both French
and English; a thing to keep his memory green as nothing else of his
work or personality will. The familiar legend that in its present
form it was composed at a single sitting, with such ardor as to entail
severe illness, and without the author's taking off his clothes,
cannot be reconciled with the known facts. But the intensely vivid
a
## p. 1701 (#499) ###########################################
WILLIAM BECKFORD
1701
movement of it certainly suggests swift production; and it could
easily be thought that any author had sketched such a story in the
heat of some undisturbed sitting, and filled, finished, and polished it
at leisure. It is an extraordinary performance; even in Henley's
unsatisfactory version it is irresistible. We know that Beckford
expected to add liberally to it by inserting sundry subordinate tales,
put into the mouths of some of the personages appearing in the last
scene. It is quite as well that he did not. Its distinctive Orientalism,
perhaps less remarkable than the unfettered imagination of its epi-
sodes, the vividness of its characters, the easy brilliancy of its literary
manner — these things, with French diction and French wit, alternate
with startling descriptive impressiveness. It is a French combination
of Cervantes and Dante, in an Oriental and bizarre narrative. It is
not always delicate, but it is never vulgar, and the sprightly pages
are as admirable as the weird ones. Its pictures, taken out of their
connection, seem irrelevant, and are certainly unlike enough; but
they are a succession of surprises and fascinations. Such are the
famous description of the chase of Vathek's court after the Giaour;
the moonlit departure of the Caliph for the Terrace of Istakhar; the
episodes of his stay under the roof of the Emir Fakreddin; the pur-
suit by Carathis on “her great camel Alboufaki,” attended by the
hideous Nerkes and the unrelenting Cafour”; Nouronihar drawn to
the magic flame in the dell at night; the warning of the good Jinn;
and the tremendous final tableau of the Hall of Eblis.
The man curious in letters regards with affection the evidences
of vitality in a brief production little more than a century old;
unique in English and French literature, and occupying to-day a high
rank among the small group of quasi-Oriental narratives that repre-
sent the direct workings of Galland on the Occidental literary tempera-
ment. To-day “Vathek) surprises and delights persons whose mental
constitution puts them in touch with it, just as potently as ever it
did. And simply as a wild story, one fancies that it will appeal
quite as effectually, no matter how many editions may be its future,
to a public perhaps unsympathetic toward its elliptical satire, its
caustic wit, its fantastic course of narrative, and its incongruous
wavering between the Aippant, the grotesque, and the terrific.
## p. 1702 (#500) ###########################################
1702
WILLIAM BECKFORD
THE INCANTATION AND THE SACRIFICE
From «The History of the Caliph Vathek)
B
Y SECRET stairs, known only to herself and her son, she [Cara-
this] first repaired to the mysterious recesses in which were
deposited the mummies that had been brought from the
catacombs of the ancient Pharaohs. Of these she ordered several
to be taken. From thence she resorted to a gallery, where, under
the guard of fifty female negroes, mute, and blind of the right
eye, were preserved the oil of the most venomous serpents, rhi-
noceros horns, and woods of a subtle and penetrating odor, pro-
cured from the interior of the Indies, together with a thousand
other horrible rarities. This collection had been formed for a
purpose like the present by Carathis herself, from a presentiment
that she might one day enjoy some intercourse with the infernal
powers, to whom she had ever been passionately attached, and to
whose taste she was no stranger.
To familiarize herself the better with the horrors in view the
Princess remained in the company of her negresses, who squinted
in the most amiable manner from the only eye they had, and
leered with exquisite delight at the skulls and skeletons which
Carathis had drawn forth from her cabinets.
Whilst she was thus occupied, the Caliph, who, instead of the
visions he expected, had acquired in these insubstantial regions a
voracious appetite, was greatly provoked at the negresses: for,
having totally forgotten their deafness, he had impatiently asked
them for food; and seeing them regardless of his demand, he
began to cuff, pinch, and push them, till Carathis arrived to ter-
minate a scene so indecent.
“Son! what means all this? ” said she, panting for breath.
“I thought I heard as I came up, the shriek of a thousand bats,
tearing from their crannies in the recesses of a cavern.
You but ill deserve the admirable provision I have brought you. "
"Give it me instantly! ” exclaimed the Caliph: "I am perish-
ing for hunger! ”
“As to that,” answered she, "you must have an excellent
stomach if it can digest what I have been preparing. ”
« Be quick,” replied the Caliph. But oh, heavens! what hor-
rors! What do you intend ? ”
“Come, come,” returned Carathis, “be not so squeamish, but
help me to arrange everything properly, and you shall see that
## p. 1703 (#501) ###########################################
WILLIAM BECKFORD
1703
1
1
what you reject with such symptoms of disgust will soon complete
your felicity. Let us get ready the pile for the sacrifice of to-
night, and think not of eating till that is performed. Know you
not that all solemn rites are preceded by a rigorous abstinence ? ”
The Caliph, not daring to object, abandoned himself to grief,
and the wind that ravaged his entrails, whilst his mother went
forward with the requisite operations. Phials of serpents' oil,
mummies, and bones were soon set in order on the balustrade of
the tower. The pile began to rise; and in three hours was as
many cubits high. At length darkness approached, and Carathis,
having stripped herself to her inmost garment, clapped her hands
in an impulse of ecstasy, and struck light with all her force.
The mutes followed her example: but Vathek, extenuated with
hunger and impatience, was unable to support himself, and fell
down in a swoon. The sparks had already kindled the dry wood;
the venomous oil burst into a thousand blue flames; the mum-
mies, dissolving, emitted a thick dun vapor; and the rhinoceros
horns beginning to consume, all together diffused such a stench,
that the Caliph, recovering, started from his trance and gazed
wildly on the scene in full blaze around him. The oil gushed
forth in a plenitude of streams; and the negresses, who supplied
it without intermission, united their cries to those of the Princess.
At last the fire became so violent, and the flames reflected from
the polished marble so dazzling, that the Caliph, unable to with-
stand the heat and the blaze, effected his escape, and clambered
up the imperial standard.
In the mean time, the inhabitants of Samarah, scared at the
light which shone over the city, arose in haste, ascended their
roofs, beheld the tower on fire, and hurried half-naked to the
square.
Their love to their sovereign immediately awoke; and
apprehending him in danger of perishing in his tower, their whole
thoughts were occupied with the means of his safety. Morakana-
bad flew from his retirement, wiped away his tears, and cried
out for water like the rest. Bababalouk, whose olfactory nerves
were more familiarized to magical odors, readily conjecturing that
Carathis was engaged in her favorite amusements, strenuously
exhorted them not to be alarmed. Him, however, they treated as
an old poltroon; and forbore not to style him a rascally traitor.
The camels and dromedaries were advancing with water, but no
one knew by which way to enter the tower. Whilst the populace
was obstinate in forcing the doors, a violent east wind drove such
1
1
## p. 1704 (#502) ###########################################
1704
WILLIAM BECKFORD
a volume of flame against them, as at first forced them off, but
afterwards rekindled their zeal. At the same time, the stench of
the horns and mummies increasing, most of the crowd fell back-
ward in a state of suffocation. Those that kept their feet mut-
ually wondered at the cause of the smell, and admonished each
other to retire. Morakanabad, more sick than the rest, remained
in a piteous condition. Holding his nose with one hand, he per-
sisted in his efforts with the other to burst open the doors, and
obtain admission. A hundred and forty of the strongest and most
resolute at length accomplished their purpose.
Carathis, alarmed at the signs of her mutes, advanced to the
staircase, went down a few steps, and heard several voices calling
out from below:
“You shall in a moment have water! ”
Being rather alert, considering her age, she presently regained
the top of the tower, and bade her son suspend the sacrifice for
some minutes, adding:
We shall soon be enabled to render it more grateful. Cer-
tain dolts of your subjects, imagining, no doubt, that we were on
fire, have been rash enough to break through those doors, which
had hitherto remained in violate, for the sake of bringing up water.
They are very kind, you must allow, so soon to forget the wrongs
you have done them: but that is of little moment. Let us offer
them to the Giaour. Let them come up: our mutes, who neither
want strength nor experience, will soon dispatch them, exhausted
as they are with fatigue. ”
«Be it so," answered the Caliph, "provided we finish, and I
dine. ”
In fact, these good people, out of breath from ascending
eleven thousand stairs in such haste, and chagrined at having
spilt, by the way, the water they had taken, were no sooner
arrived at the top than the blaze of the flames and the fumes of
the mummies at once overpowered their senses. It was a pity!
for they beheld not the agreeable smile with which the mutes
and the negresses adjusted the cord to their necks: these amiable
personages rejoiced, however, no less at the scene. Never before
had the ceremony of strangling been performed with so much
facility. They all fell without the least resistance or struggle; so
that Vathek, in the space of a few moments, found himself sur-
rounded by the dead bodies of his most faithful subjects, all of
which were thrown on the top of the pile.
## p. 1705 (#503) ###########################################
WILLIAM BECKFORD
1705
VATHEK AND NOURONIHAR IN THE HALLS OF EBLIS
From (The History of the Caliph Vathek)
Th
He Caliph and Nouronihar beheld each other with amazement,
at finding themselves in a place which, though roofed with
a vaulted ceiling, was so spacious and lofty that at first
they took it for an immeasurable plain. But their eyes at length
growing familiar with the grandeur of the objects at hand, they
extended their view to those at a distance, and discovered rows
of columns and arcades, which gradually diminished till they
terminated in a point, radiant as the sun when he darts his last
beams athwart the ocean; the pavement, strewed over with gold
dust and saffron, exhaled so subtle an odor as almost overpowered
them; they however went on, and observed an infinity of censers,
in which ambergris and the wood of aloes were continually burn-
ing; between the several columns were placed tables, each spread
with a profusion of viands, and wines of every species sparkling
in vases of crystal. A throng of genii and other fantastic spirits
of each sex danced lasciviously in troops, at the sound of music
which issued from beneath.
In the midst of this immense hall a vast multitude was inces-
santly passing, who severally kept their right hands on their
hearts, without once regarding anything around them; they had
all the livid paleness of death; their eyes, deep sunk in their
sockets, resembled those phosphoric meteors that glimmer by
night in places of interment. Some stalked slowly on, absorbed
in profound reverie; some, shrieking with agony, ran furiously
about, like tigers wounded with poisoned arrows; whilst others,
grinding their teeth in rage, foamed along, more frantic than the
wildest maniac. They all avoided each other, and though sur-
rounded by a multitude that no one could number, each wandered
at random, unheedful of the rest, as if alone on a desert which
no foot had trodden.
Vathek and Nouronihar, frozen with terror at a sight so bale-
ful, demanded of the Giaour what these appearances might seem,
and why these ambulating spectres never withdrew their hands
from their hearts.
"Perplex not yourselves,” replied he bluntly, with so much
at once; you will soon be acquainted with all: let us haste and
present you to Eblis. ”
## p. 1706 (#504) ###########################################
1706
WILLIAM BECKFORD
They continued their way through the multitude; but not-
withstanding their confidence at first, they were not sufficiently
composed to examine with attention the various perspectives of
halls and of galleries that opened on the right hand and left,
which were all illuminated by torches and braziers, whose flames
rose in pyramids to the centre of the vault. At length they
came to a place where long curtains, brocaded with crimson and
gold, fell from all parts in striking confusion; here the choirs
and dances were heard no longer, the light which glimmered
came from afar.
After some time Vathek and Nouronihar perceived a gleam
brightening through the drapery, and entered a vast tabernacle
carpeted with the skins of leopards; an infinity of elders with
streaming beards, and Afrits in complete armor, had prostrated
themselves before the ascent of a lofty eminence, on the top of
which, upon a globe of fire, sat the formidable Eblis. His
person was that of a young man, whose noble and regular feat-
ures seemed to have been tarnished by malignant vapors; in his
large eyes appeared both pride and despair; his flowing hair
retained some resemblance to that of an angel of light; in his
hand, which thunder had blasted, he swayed the iron sceptre
that causes the monster Ouranabad, the Afrits, and all the
powers of the abyss to tremble; at his presence the heart of the
Caliph sunk within him, and for the first time he fell prostrate
his face. Nouronihar, however, though greatly dismayed,
could not help admiring the person of Eblis; for she expected to
have seen some stupendous giant. Eblis, with a voice more mild
than might be imagined, but such as transfused through the soul
the deepest melancholy, said:-
“Creatures of clay, I receive you into mine empire; ye are
numbered amongst my adorers. Enjoy whatever this palace
affords: the treasures of the pre-Adamite Sultans, their bickering
sabres, and those talismans that compel the Dives to open the
subterranean expanses of the mountain of Kaf, which communi-
cate with these. There, insatiable as your curiosity may be,
shall you find sufficient to gratify it; you shall possess the
exclusive privilege of entering the fortress of Aherman, and the
halls of Argenk, where are portrayed all creatures endowed with
intelligence, and the various animals that inhabited the earth
prior to the creation of that contemptible being whom ye denom-
inate the Father of Mankind. ”
on
## p. 1707 (#505) ###########################################
WILLIAM BECKFORD
1707
Vathek and Nouronihar, feeling themselves revived and en-
couraged by this harangue, eagerly said to the Giaour:-
« Bring us instantly to the place which contains these precious
talismans. ”
“Come! answered this wicked Dive, with his malignant grin,
«come! and possess all that my Sovereign hath promised, and
more. ”
He then conducted them into a long aisle adjoining the tab-
ernacle, preceding them with hasty steps, and followed by his
disciples with the utmost alacrity. They reached at length a hall
of great extent, and covered with a lofty dome, around which
appeared fifty portals of bronze, secured with as many fastenings
of iron. A funereal gloom prevailed over the whole scene.
Here, upon two beds of incorruptible cedar, lay recumbent the
fleshless forms of the pre-Adamite kings, who had been mon-
archs of the whole earth. They still possessed enough of life to
be conscious of their deplorable condition; their eyes retained a
melancholy motion; they regarded each other with looks of the
deepest dejection, each holding his right hand motionless on his
heart. At their feet were inscribed the events of their several
reigns, their power, their pride, and their crimes. Soliman Raad,
Soliman Daki, and Soliman Di Gian Ben Gian, who, after having
chained up the Dives in the dark caverns of Kaf, became so pre-
sumptuous as to doubt of the Supreme Power,--all these main-
tained great state, though not to be compared with the eminence
of Soliman Ben Daoud [Solomon the son of David).
This king, so renowned for his wisdom, was on the loftiest
elevation, and placed immediately under the dome; he appeared
to possess more animation than the rest, though from time to
time he labored with profound sighs, and like his companions,
kept his right hand on his heart; yet his countenance was more
composed, and he seemed to be listening to the sullen roar of a
vast cataract, visible in part through the grated portals; this
was the only sound that intruded on the silence of these dole-
ful mansions. A range of brazen vases surrounded the eleva-
tion.
«Remove the covers from these cabalistic depositaries,” said
the Giaour to Vathek, “and avail thyself of the talismans, which
will break asunder all these gates of bronze, and not only ren-
der thee master of the treasures contained within them, but also
of the spirits by which they are guarded. ”
## p. 1708 (#506) ###########################################
1708
WILLIAM BECKFORD
The Caliph, whom this ominous preliminary had entirely dis-
concerted, approached the vases with faltering footsteps, and was
ready to sink with terror when he heard the groans of Soliman.
As he proceeded, a voice from the livid lips of the Prophet
articulated these words:-
“In my lifetime I filled a magnificent throne, having on my
right hand twelve thousand seats of gold, where the patriarchs
and the prophets heard my doctrines; on my left the sages and
doctors, upon as many thrones of silver, were present at all my
decisions. Whilst I thus administered justice to innumerable
multitudes, the birds of the air librating over me served as a
canopy from the rays of the sun; my people flourished, and my
palace rose to the clouds; I erected a temple to the Most High
which was the wonder of the universe. But I basely suffered
myself to be seduced by the love of women, and a curiosity that
could not be restrained by sublunary things; I listened to the
counsels of Aherman and the daughter of Pharaoh, and adored
fire and the hosts of heaven; I forsook the holy city, and com-
manded the Genii to rear the stupendous palace of Istakhar, and
the terrace of the watch-towers, each of which was consecrated
to a star. There for a while I enjoyed myself in the zenith of
glory and pleasure; not only men, but supernatural existences
were subject also to my will. I began to think, as these un-
happy monarchs around had already thought, that the vengeance
of Heaven was asleep, when at once the thunder burst my
structures asunder and precipitated me hither; where however I
do not remain, like the other inhabitants, totally destitute of
hope, for an angel of light hath revealed that, in consideration
of the piety of my early youth, my woes shall come to an end
when this cataract shall for ever cease to flow. Till then I am
in torments, ineffable torments! an unrelenting fire preys on my
heart. ”
Having uttered this exclamation, Soliman raised his hands
towards Heaven in token of supplication, and the Caliph dis-
cerned through his bosom, which was transparent as crystal, his
heart enveloped in flames. At a sight so full of horror, Nou-
ronihar fell back like one petrified into the arms of Vathek, who
cried out with a convulsive sob:-
"Q) Giaour! whither hast thou brought us? Allow us to
depart, and I will relinquish all thou hast promised. O Ma-
homet! remains there no more mercy i
- )
## p. 1709 (#507) ###########################################
WILLIAM BECKFORD
1709
"None! none! ” replied the malicious Dive.
