The Conversation Of Eiros And Charmion
I
will
bring
fire
to
thee.
Euripides.—’Androm’.
‘Eiros’.
Why
do
you
call
me
Eiros?
‘Charmion’.
So
henceforward
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
life-like
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’.
O
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.
To-morrow
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
lies
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
interest
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
suffered,
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
unconceivable
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.
The
first
sense
of
pain
lay
in
a
rigorous
construction
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
fulfilment,
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
towards
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.
