Chapter 29

"You, my friend," answered Deïphobus, "omitted no duty towards my corpse that you could perform. But I owe my death and these infamous wounds to the wickedness of Helen; they are the marks of her love. On the night after the fatal horse was brought into Troy, I was lying asleep in my chamber, enjoying needful repose. Then my faithless wife removed all the arms from my palace, and even took away my sword from the side of my couch. That done, she threw open the gates, and herself summoned her former husband, Menelaus, and he and Ulysses burst into my apartment and inflicted on me these wounds, for which I pray the Gods that they may be requited."

Æneas would have spent yet more time in conversing with the shades of his former comrades; but the Sibyl reminded him that the hour was approaching when he must return to the upper world. "Here," she said, "the path is divided. To the right, past the palace of Pluto, lies our way to the Elysian Fields; on the left is the way to Tartarus, the place of punishment for the wicked."

As they proceeded toward Elysium, Æneas looked around him, and beheld to the left a vast prison, enclosed by mighty walls, at the foot of which ran Phlegethon, the river of fire, whirling along great rocks in its furious current. Across the stream, just opposite to where he was standing, was a lofty gate, with columns of solid adamant. In an iron tower adjoining sat Tisiphone, the eldest of the Furies, watching the gate. From within sounds were heard--groans of pain, the sound of cruel lashes, and the clanking of chains. Æneas asked his companion what punishments were being inflicted within, and who were the sufferers. "This," replied the Sibyl, "is Tartarus, whereinto no righteous person can enter. Here Rhadamanthus presides: he searches into the deeds of all who are sent hither, obliges them to confess all the crimes they have committed in the upper world, and awards the punishment. As soon as the sentence is pronounced, Tisiphone scourges the doomed one with a whip of scorpions, and then consigns him to the fierce attendants of her sister Furies. Immediately the gates, creaking on their hinges, fly open. Within, the entrance is guarded by a hideous Hydra, with fifty black and gaping mouths. In the pit of Tartarus beyond, the giants who waged war against the ruler of the Gods lie prostrated by his thunderbolts. Beside them, enduring terrible tortures, is Salmoneus. He was a king of Elis in Greece, and was so puffed up by pride that he rode through his city on a high chariot drawn by four prancing horses, waving in his hand a torch, and pretending to be Jupiter himself, wielding his thunderbolts. The Almighty Sire punished his impiety by hurling from Olympus a real thunderbolt, which deprived him of life; and now he pays the penalty of his mad pride by eternal sufferings in Tartarus. There also lies Tityus, the huge giant who, having insulted the goddess Latona, was slain by the darts of her children, Apollo and Diana, and whose writhing body now lies extended over nine acres of ground, while insatiable vultures perpetually prey on his vitals, that are renewed as fast as they are devoured. Beyond him is Ixion, bound to a wheel that never ceases to revolve, while he is scourged by attendant Furies. He it was who, being admitted to Olympus by the generosity of Jupiter himself, dared to seek the love of the queen of the Gods. Not less dreadful is the punishment allotted to Pirithous, who, along with Theseus, endeavored to carry off the Queen of Hades, Proserpine, from the side of Pluto. Over his head hangs a huge rock, which every moment seems about to fall and crush him, but yet never actually descends; moreover, he is plagued with a gnawing hunger, and a rich banquet is always before him, which yet he is never able to reach. Myriads of other unhappy shades, whose course on earth has been stained by detestable crime, here expiate the evil they have done; but had I a hundred mouths and a hundred tongues, I could not recount all their offenses and the varieties of their punishment. It is necessary that we should go forward, since yonder stands the palace of Pluto, where thou, O Æneas, must deposit the bough which has gained thee admission here."

Obedient to his guide, Æneas advanced to the vast portals of the palace where Pluto, the brother of Jupiter and monarch of the infernal kingdom, had his abode with his lovely queen Proserpine, the daughter of Ceres, whom ages before he had carried off from the upper world. There he made due reverence before the goddess, and deposited the golden bough at her feet. Advancing beyond, Æneas and the Sibyl came at last to the Elysian Fields,--the abode of joy assigned to those who during life had been distinguished for piety, virtue, and heroic actions. Here were lovely green fields and pleasant groves; the air was pure and balmy, the sky was blue, and all was glowing-in the light of the blessed sun. Some of the happy spirits who dwelt in this region were amusing themselves by wrestling on the greensward, and other sports in which they had delighted on earth, such as chariot-racing, exercises with the spear and the bow. Others were dancing and singing to the delicious notes which Orpheus, the most skillful of musicians, produced from his lyre. On the bank of the river Eridanus, which pours its clear waters through Elysium over sands of gold, were gathered a band whose heads were adorned with snow-white fillets. These were priests who had kept unstained the purity and sanctity of their office; poets who had sung the praises of the Gods in immortal verse; and those who had made human life more happy by the invention of useful arts. Among them the Sibyl sought out Musseus, the father of the poets, and besought him to reveal in what retreat they should find Anchises, on whose account she and her companion had traversed all the regions of the shades.

"None of us," answered the venerable shade, "have here any fixed abode. We wander at our will among the shady groves and by the pleasant banks of the river. But if you mount with me this little eminence, I will show you him whom you seek."

As he spoke, he led them to a spot where they could survey all the shining plains around, and pointed to where Anchises, reclined in a secluded vale, was surveying the souls of his descendants who were destined in future times to visit the earth, and were enacting beforehand the achievements they were fated to accomplish during life. As soon as he saw Æneas advancing toward him, he rose with hands stretched out and joyful tears pouring down his face.

"Are you indeed," he exclaimed, "come to me at last, my son? Am I permitted once more to see your face, and to listen to the tones of your dear voice? Now indeed the hopes which I cherished are fulfilled. By how many dangers have you been threatened since we parted! I was filled with dread lest you should be prevented from accomplishing your task by the temptations which beset you at Carthage."

"Thy apparition, beloved father," answered Æneas, "continually appearing to me in dreams, urged me forward even to these regions. Permit me now to clasp thee in my arms, and do not withdraw from my embrace." Thrice did he attempt to throw his arms about the shade, which being only composed of thin air, was not perceptible to his touch. While the two conversed together, Æneas observed at no great distance from them a stream, at which prodigious numbers of ghosts were incessantly crowding to drink, swarming like bees round their hive. Astonished at this spectacle, the hero inquired of his father what that stream was, and why those spectres were so eager to drink of it. "These," answered Anchises, "are souls destined by fate to occupy other bodies in the upper world; and the stream is Lethe, one draught of which is sufficient to destroy all recollection of their former condition."

"But surely," said Æneas, "it is not to be believed that any souls which have tasted the delights of this abode will be desirous to return again to the life of earth, with its uncertainties and its miseries. How comes it that this impulse possesses them?"

In reply to this question, Anchises entered into a long explanation, the substance of which was that all the spirits of the departed had to endure in the regions below a process of expiation for their earthly sins, longer or shorter according to the nature of their transgressions. Those that were not consigned to the pains of Tartarus entered the Elysian Fields, where, after they had remained a thousand years, they were summoned to drink of the waters of Lethe, and thus lose all recollection of their former lives; after which, being purified from all stain, they were fitted to return to the upper world and inhabit new bodies. Anchises added that he would show to his son the forms of his own descendants in the Italian kingdom he was destined to establish, and would trace for him their achievements. Leading Æneas and the Sibyl onto a rising ground, in the midst of the souls which were crowding about the magic stream of Lethe, he pointed out to him a long array of future kings of Latium,--Silvius, who was to be the son of Æneas's old age by his consort Lavinia; Procas, Capys, and Numitor, destined to be monarchs of Alba Longa; and Romulus, the future founder of the great city of Rome, which would extend over seven hills, and would spread her dominion over the whole earth. Not far from these were the souls of Romulus's successors in the' early days of Rome,--Numa Pompilius, who first would give his country laws, and encourage the arts of peace; Tullus Hostilius, who would wage victorious wars, and extend the territories of Rome; Ancus Martius, not less successful in the field; and Tarquin, destined to lose the throne through his oppressive reign. Anchises proceeded to indicate to his wondering son many of the patriots and generals who in future years were to contribute to the glory and power of the Roman State,--more especially the great Julius Caesar, the lineal descendant of Æneas himself; and Augustus, who would once more establish the golden age in Latium, and whose empire would extend to countries as yet unknown. The venerable shade concluded his forecast of the future with a splendid description of the part which Rome was destined to play in the world's history:--

"Let others better mould the running mass Of metals, and inform the breathing brass, And soften into flesh a marble face; Plead better at the bar; describes the skies, And when the stars descend, and when they rise: But Rome! 'tis thine alone, with awful sway To rule mankind, and make the world obey, Disposing peace and war thy own majestic way; To tame the proud, the fettered slave to free,-- These are imperial arts, and worthy thee."

Having thus inspired Æneas with renewed determination by showing him the brilliant future that was awaiting his descendants, Anchises conducted him over those parts of the Elysian Fields which he had not yet visited, and showed him everything that was of peculiar interest. As they went, he discoursed to him respecting the wars which he would have to wage in Latium, and gave him counsel as to the means by which he should overcome every difficulty. Then at last, having brought him to the ivory gate whence the gods were accustomed to send false dreams to the upper world, he bade him farewell. By that gate Æneas and the Sibyl quitted the abodes of the dead, and ascended without difficulty or adventure to the cave of the oracle, whence the hero hastened at once to his ships. Without loss of time he ordered the sails to be spread, and the ships were steered along the coast, drawing nearer ever hour to their final destination.

ÆNEAS'S FIRST GREAT BATTLE WITH THE LATINS

By Charles Henry Hanson

[Æneas finally lands in Italy, the country promised him by the Gods as a home for his race. The Italian king, Latinus, has been warned by signs and omens that the hand of his daughter Lavinia must not be given to an Italian prince, but to a stranger coming from a far country. He believes that Æneas is the hero chosen by the Fates as her husband, and greets him in most friendly manner. Queen Amata, however, is influenced by the Trojan-hating Juno to oppose this marriage. Turnus, chief of the Rutuli, a suitor of Lavinia, is next aroused, and soon the whole kingdom is in a turmoil. A fierce battle ensues.]

Turnus, having brought the bulk of his forces from before the beseiged camp, hurled them against the army of Æneas before its ranks were properly formed, and a furious conflict at once began to rage. The Trojan hero, rejoicing to find himself once more on a field of battle, first encountered the Latian warriors, who chanced to be in his front. Their leader was Theron, a man of gigantic stature, who did not hesitate to engage Æneas hand to hand; but he paid dearly for his rashness, for the sword which Vulcan had forged--so keen was its edge, so excellent its temper--pierced through his brazen buckler and his tunic stiffened by bars of gold, and penetrating his side, drained the life-blood. Next the hero struck down Lycas; and rushing onward, encountered two stalwart rustics, Cisseus and Gyas, who were making havoc among the Trojans by beating them down with ponderous clubs. On the divine armor the heavy blows of these rude weapons fell harmless, while the spear of Æneas proved fatal to both those who wielded them. An insolent warrior named Pharus was defying the hero from a short distance with taunting speech, when he hurled a javelin, which struck the boaster full in the mouth, and transfixing the throat, silenced him forever. Now a band of seven brothers, the sons of Phorcus, all at once attacked Æneas with darts, throwing them together. Some of the weapons struck his helmet and shield, and rebounded; others, turned aside by the care of Venus, grazed his skin. Æneas called to Achates to bring him more spears, and snatching one as soon as it was offered, hurled it against Mæon, one of the brothers, with such force that it penetrated his shield and corselet, and inflicted a mortal wound in his breast. Another brother, Alcanor, hurrying up to Mæon's assistance, he smote with a second spear, just where the arm and shoulder join, leaving the arm hanging to the body only by two or three shreds of skin and muscle. Seeing the slaughter that Æneas was spreading around him, Halæsus and Messapus hurried up with their bands to confront him, and so in that part of the field the battle grew still more furious.

In another part, where Pallas was fighting at the head of his Arcadian horsemen, the ground had been rendered so uneven by the winter torrents that they were obliged to dismount, and being unaccustomed to fight on foot, they began to retreat before the fierce assault of the Rutulians. At this sight their brave young leader was overwhelmed with shame and mortification. "Whither," he cried, "my fellow countrymen, do you fly? I implore you, by the memory of your gallant deeds in the past, by the name of Evander, the king you love, by my own hopes of glory, not to flee. Your way lies through your foes, not from them; with your swords must you cut a passage where they crowd most densely. These are not gods who pursue us; they are mortals, like ourselves, and they are not stronger or more numerous than we. The ocean hems us in with an impassable barrier on the one side; the enemy confronts us on the other, and separates us from our friends. Whether shall we fly into the sea, or force our way toward the Trojans?" So saying, he turned, and dashed into the midst of the hostile ranks. Tagus was the first who fell a victim to his noble wrath; for as he was stooping to pick up a heavy stone, the spear of Pallas struck him in the middle of the back, and shattered the spine and ribs. As the young hero was withdrawing the weapon, Hisbon rushed on and struck at him from above; but the blow fell short, and before he could recover his guard Pallas buried his sword deep in his body. Warrior after warrior he struck down, restored the confidence of his followers, and spread confusion and dismay in the opposite ranks, raging among them as the flames lit by the husbandman in the autumn spread through the stubble, and destroy everything in their path. But now the Auruncian chief, Halæsus, summoned by some of his followers to their aid, opposed the advance of the Arcadians. He was a tried and fierce warrior, and he slew five of the bravest of Pallas's men before the young chief could confront him. Then, however, the son of Evander hurled a spear with such skill and certainty of aim that he pierced Halæsus's heart, and the grim leader of the Aurunci sank lifeless on the field. His fall was a sore discouragement to the troops of Turnus, which would have sought safety in flight, had not Lausus, the gallant son of Mezentius,--noble and upright offspring of an unworthy father,--suddenly come to their aid. First encountering Abas, leader of the Populonians, he slew him with a single blow of his sword, and followed up his success with a furious slaughter of Arcadians and Etrurians. Thus the battle continued: on the one side Pallas impetuously urged the attack; on the other Lausus not less obstinately maintained the defense. They were equal in years, and in beauty and grace of form; and to both alike the Fates had assigned a place among the victims of the war. But the Gods had ordained that they should not encounter hand to hand; each was destined to succumb to a superior foe.

Turnus was leading his troops in another quarter of the field, when he was summoned to hasten to the assistance of Lausus, who alone was bearing up the battle against Pallas and his Arcadians. Quickly he turned his chariot in that direction, and as soon as he reached the spot, called on his warriors to withdraw from the conflict. "I alone," he said, "will encounter Pallas; to me his life is given. Would to Heaven his father were here to witness our combat." The Rutulians obeyed the command of their king, and fell back; while Pallas, amazed at their retreat and the sudden appearance of Turnus, gazed on his opponent. Then, in reply to his vaunting speech, he said, "Now, either by carrying off thy spoils or by a noble death at thy hands, I shall be rendered famous. My sire knows how to bear either extremity of fortune. Cease thy threatenings and let us engage." As he spoke, the hearts of the Arcadians, who loved him, were filled with fear and sorrow. Turnus sprang from his chariot, and came forward to the encounter on foot, advancing as a lion bounds toward his prey. As soon as Pallas thought him within reach of his spear, he prepared to throw it, and uttered this prayer to Hercules: "By my father's hospitality, and that abode which thou, his guest, didst visit, O Alcides, aid, I implore thee, my arduous attempt. May the dying eyes of Turnus behold me strip him, expiring, of his bloody armor, and endure the sight of a victorious foe." Hercules, from his place on Olympus, heard the prayer, and knowing that the decree of Fate was otherwise, answered with heavy groans and unavailing tears. These were not unseen by Jupiter, who strove to console his immortal son. "To every one," he said, "his day is fixed; a short and irretrievable term of life is given to all; but to lengthen out fame by heroic deeds is the best that man can do. Under the lofty walls of Troy many sons of gods themselves perished,--among them the heroic Sarpedon, my own offspring, perished; Turnus, too, is summoned by the Fates, and has nearly reached his term of life." He spoke, and turned away his gaze from the battlefield, himself pitying the untimely death of Pallas.

And now the brave son of Evander with his utmost force hurled his spear, and then hastened to draw his sword from its scabbard. The weapon struck Turnus where the shoulder was protected by the corselet, and piercing through the solid brass, slightly grazed the hero's body. Then Turnus, poising a steel-tipped javelin, darted it at Pallas, exclaiming, "See whether mine be not the more penetrating shaft." Cast with irresistible might, it tore its way through the youth's shield, composed though it was of thick plates of brass and iron, and through his cuirass, and inflicted a ghastly wound in his breast. In vain he wrenched out the deadly missile from his body; even as he withdrew it life deserted his quivering form, and he fell to the ground. Bestriding the corpse, Turnus cried, "Ye Arcadians, faithfully report to Evander this message,--I send him back his Pallas in such a plight as he deserved. Whatever honor is in a tomb, whatever solace in the performance of funeral rites, I freely grant him. His league with the Trojan intruder shall cost him dear." So saying, he pressed his foot on the body, and tore away a massive belt, adorned with figures richly carved in gold. This spoil Turnus exultingly clasped around his own body, little dreaming that the time would come when he would wish that he had never taken it, and that he and Pallas had never met. But now the lifeless corpse of the youth, stripped of its arms and still bleeding from the fatal wound inflicted by the Rutulian chief, was laid on a shield and borne away by his weeping followers. Thus the first day on which he took a part in war saw also the young hero's death, though not, indeed, before he had strewn the plain with Rutulian corpses.