Ch. 7: Annihilation

"Prophet-like that lone one stood, With dauntless words and high, That shook the sere leaves from the wood As if a storm pass'd by."--The Last Man.--CAMPBELL.

"So perish the old Gods! But out of the sea of time Rises a new land of song, Fairer than the old."--The Seaside and the Fireside.--LONGFELLOW.

Full of evil augury was the morning of this eventful day in Vazon Forest. There were the same trees, the same glades and streams, as on the well-remembered Midsummer day of the preceding year; but nature and man alike were in a different mood. The trees were leafless and churlish, the glades ragged and colourless; the turbid, dusky streams bore but small resemblance to the limpid rivulets of June; the native youths were absent, engaged in military service; the maidens, headed by Suzanne Falla, had indeed an appearance of mirth, but there was a hollow ring in the boisterous recklessness of their merriment; the old men tramped feebly and aimlessly, for the reverence for age had been transferred to the veterans of the conquerors. The latter also supplied the musicians; and the clanging of drums and cymbals, with the blast of horns, replaced the sylvan melody of the aborigines.

Still there was every sign of festivity. The proceedings began with dances in which the men, who posed as athletes and warriors, gave representations of deeds of martial prowess. Then the girls were allowed to foot their native dances in their own fashion. Dances for both sexes followed, in which the native maidens found it difficult to conceal their terror of the rough partners ever ready to become rougher wooers.

These preliminaries concluded, the business of the day began. Though this wild race sacrificed human beings, they did not treat their victims with the coldblooded cruelty of the Druids, who slaughtered them as if they were oxen or sheep; their custom was to burn their captives; and it is not for critics, whose pious forefathers kindled the fires of Smithfield, to assert that their practice was wholly barbarous. In the present case a pyre, some twelve feet high, was built at the foot of a huge granite boulder, near the sea-coast: it was constructed of dry wood, and was drenched with combustible materials. Jean was bound firmly to a strong hurdle, made of birch stems and withies securely lashed together. Judith, Garthmund, and the principal elders, placed themselves under the venerable oak; the people stood at a respectful distance. Twelve stalwart warriors bore the litter on which the prisoner was stretched, and placed it on stone trestles planted for the purpose in the intervening space. Then the priests arrived; twelve old men whose white locks and beards, and snowy dresses, gave them a venerable appearance which was soon belied by their performances.

Halting when they reached the victim, the priests faced the oak, and chanted a solemn, wailing dirge; this, which might have been a farewell to