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diff --git a/28270-8.txt b/28270-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c9288d4 --- /dev/null +++ b/28270-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4110 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Hypolympia, by Edmund Gosse + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Hypolympia + Or, The Gods in the Island, an Ironic Fantasy + + +Author: Edmund Gosse + + + +Release Date: March 7, 2009 [eBook #28270] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HYPOLYMPIA*** + + +E-text prepared by Bryan Ness, C. St. Charleskindt, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + + _Verse by the Same Author_ + + ON VIOL AND FLUTE + KING ERIK + FERDAUSI IN EXILE + IN RUSSET AND SILVER + + + +HYPOLYMPIA + +Or + +The Gods in the Island + +_An Ironic Fantasy_ + +by + +EDMUND GOSSE + + + + + + + +London +William Heinemann +1901 + + + + +PREFACE + + +_The scene of this fantasy is an island, hitherto inhabited by +Lutherans, in a remote but temperate province of Northern Europe. +The persons are the Gods of Ancient Greece. The time is early in +the Twentieth Century._ + + + + +I + + +[_A terrace high above the sea, which is seen far below, through + vast masses of woodland. Steps lead down towards the water, from + the centre of the scene. To the left, a large, low country-house, + of unpretentious character, in the style of the late eighteenth + century. Gardens belonging to the same period, and now somewhat + neglected and overgrown, stretch on either side. The edge of the + terrace is marked by a stone balustrade, with a stone seat running + round it within. At the top of steps, ascending, appear_ APHRODITE + _and_ EROS.] + +APHRODITE. + +A moment, Eros. Let us sit here. What can this flutter at my girdle +be? I breathe with difficulty. Oh! Eros, can this be death? + +EROS. + +Death? Ah! no; you have roses in your cheeks, mother. Your lips are +like blood. + +APHRODITE. + +It must be weariness. Ever these new sensations, these odd, +exciting apprehensions! This must be mortality. I never breathed +the faster as I rose from terrace to terrace in Cythera. + +EROS. + +Yet this is like Cythera--a little like it. [_Looking round._] It +is not the least like it. These round billowy woods, that grey +strip of sea far below, the long smooth land with square yellow +fields and pointed brown fields, and the wild grey sky above. No; +it would be impossible for anything to be less like Cythera. + +APHRODITE. + +Yet it is like it. [_Gazing round._] How strange ... to be where +everything is not azure and gold and white--white land, gold houses +and blue sky and sea. What are these woods, Eros? + +EROS. + +Are they beech-woods? + +APHRODITE. + +I did not think that I could ever be happy again. I am not _happy_. +But I am not miserable. Now that my heart is quiet again, I am not +miserable. Oh! that sick tossing on the black sea, the nausea, the +aching, the dulness; that I, who sprang from the waves, could come +to hate them so. We will never venture on the sea, again? + +EROS. + +Then must we stay for ever here, since this is an island. + +APHRODITE. + +Yes, here for ever. For ever? We have no "for ever" now, Eros. + + [_Enter, from the house_, CYDIPPE.] + +APHRODITE. + +Is all prepared for us, Cydippe? + +CYDIPPE. + +I have done my best. The barbarian people are kind and clean. They +have blue eyes. There is one, with marigold curls and a crisp +beard, who has brought up water and logs of wood. There are two +maidens, with hair like a wheat-field and rough red fingers. There +are others.... I know not. All seem civil and frightened. But your +Majesty will be wretched. + +APHRODITE. + +No, Cydippe, I think I shall be happy. + +EROS [_walking to the parapet, and looking down_]. + +Our white ship still lies there, mother. Shall we start again? + +APHRODITE. + +On that leaden water, with the little cruel breakers like coriander +seeds? Never. And whither should we go, Eros? We have lost our +golden home, our only home. We have lost the old white world of +empire; any grey corner of the world of stillness is good enough +for us. I will eat, and lie down, and rest without that long, +awful heave of the intolerable ocean. Which way, Cydippe? + + [APHRODITE _and_ CYDIPPE _enter the house_.] + +EROS [_alone_]. + +This little milk-white flower, with the drop of wine in it.... It +is like the grass that grows on the slopes of Parnassus. It is the +only home-like thing here. Can that be grey wool that hangs in the +sky, and droops like a curtain over the opposite hills? How cold +the air is! Ah! it is raining over in the other island, and the +brown fields grow like the yellow fields, melt into a mere white +mist behind the slate-coloured sea. Here is one of the barbarians. + + [POSEIDON _slowly appears at the top of the steps_.] + +POSEIDON. + +Ah, you here alone, Eros? + +EROS [_aside_]. + +It is Poseidon! How old and bluff he looks! [_To_ POSEIDON.] My +mother is within. [_Smiling._] She was angry with you, Poseidon, +but her anger is fallen. + +POSEIDON. + +Adversity brings us all together. It was once I who burned with +anger against her. Why was she angry? + +EROS. + +The cruelty of your sea; it shook and sickened her. + +POSEIDON. + +It once was her sea, too. Now it is not even mine.... Rebellion +everywhere, everywhere the servant risen against the master, +everywhere our spells and portents broken. I rule the sea still, +but it is as a man holds in a wild horse with a hard rein: it obeys +with hatred, it would obey not one moment after the master's hand +was withdrawn. + +EROS. + +How cold it is. But I am not disconsolate. Nor should you be, +Poseidon, for you will have the sea to occupy your thoughts. +Hephæstus will help you to break it in. He at least should be +consoled, for in our fallen estate his magical ingenuity will +employ his brain. + +POSEIDON. + +We have never needed to be ingenious. It has been enough for us +to command, to wield the elements like weapons, to say it shall +be and to see it is. + +EROS. + +To see it is not, and yet to make it be, perhaps this may be a joy +in store for us. For Hephæstus, certainly; for you, if you are +wise; but for me, ah! what will there be? My arrows break against +old hearts, and now we all are old. + + [PALLAS ATHENE _comes rapidly down the steps from the house + and speaks while still behind_ EROS.] + +PALLAS. + +I have brought with me the box which Epimetheus made for Pandora. + +EROS [_turning suddenly_]. + +Ah! Pallas! What, you have brought that ivory box with you? Why +did you burden your hands with that? + +PALLAS. + +I snatched it from the burning palace. There is something strange at +the bottom of it--something like an opal, with a violet flame in it. + +EROS. + +Alas! we have no great need of jewels here. This shining beech-leaf +is the treasure you should wear, Pallas. See, a little bough of it, +bent just above the white enamel of your forehead. It will be as +green as a beryl to-day, and red like copper to-morrow, and perhaps +you will need no third adornment. + +PALLAS. + +There is something in the carven box which the shrieking oracle +commended to me. "Take this," it said, "take this, and it will turn +the blackness of exile into living light." + +EROS. + +Poor oracle, it became mad before it became dumb. + +PALLAS. + +I was the only one of us all, Eros, who anticipated this change. +High up above the glaciers of Olympus, where the warm crystal shone +like ice, and the faint cumuli rained jasmine on us, and the blue +light was like the cold acid of a fruit, in the midst of our +incomparable felicity I pondered on the vicissitude of things. + +EROS. + +You only, I remember, ever heeded the foolish screaming oracle +that moaned for mortals. You always had something of the mortal +temperament, Pallas. It jarred upon my mother that you seem to +shudder even at the voluptuous turmoil of the senses. She said +you always looked old. You look younger now than she does, +Pallas. + +PALLAS. + +I am neither old nor young. I know not what I am. But this grey +colour and those blowing woods are not unpleasing to me. I can +be _myself_, even here, on a beech-wood peak in the cold sea. + + [_Enter up the steps_ ZEUS, _leaning heavily on_ GANYMEDE, + _and attended by many other Gods_.] + +EROS, POSEIDON, _and_ PALLAS. + +Hail! father and king! + +ZEUS. + +I can push on no farther. Why have I brought you here? [_Gazing +round._] Nay, it is you who have brought me here. [_He moves up the +scene._] I have a demon in my legs, that swells them, breaks them, +crushes me down. [_To_ GANYMEDE.] You are careless; stiffen your +shoulder, it slopes like a woman's. I have lost my thunderbolt, I +have lost everything. Shall I be _bound_ upon this muddy, slippery +rock? What is that horror in the sky? + +POSEIDON. + +It is some dark bird of the north; it seeks a prey in the +woodlands. + +ZEUS. + +I think it is a vulture. My eagle fled from me when the rebel +whistled to it. It perched beside him, and smoothed its crest +against his elbow. All have left me, even my eagle. + +PALLAS. + +Father, we have not left you. We are about you here. One by one the +alleys of the beech-wood will open, and one after one we shall all +gather here, all your children, all the Olympians. + +ZEUS. + +But where is Olympus? I hardly know you. [_Gazing blankly about +him._] Are you my children? You [_to_ PALLAS] gaze at me with eyes +like those I hated most. + +EROS. + +Whose eyes, father and king? + +ZEUS. + +I will not say. Are you sure [_to_ POSEIDON] that is not a vulture? +I am torn, see, here under my beard, by a thorn. I can feel pain at +last, _I_, who could only inflict it. + +EROS. + +Pallas has something in a box---- + +ZEUS [_vehemently_]. + +There is nothing in any box, there is nothing in any island, there +is nothing in all the empty caskets of this world which can give +me any happiness. Is it in this shanty that we must live? Lead me +on, Ganymede, lead me on into it, that I may sink down and sleep. +Walk slowly and walk steadily, wretched boy. + + [_He passes into the house, followed by all the others._] + + + + +II + + +[_The terrace as before. Early morning, with warm sunshine. Enter_ + CIRCE, _very carefully helping_ KRONOS _down the steps of the + house_. RHEA _follows, leaning on a staff_. CIRCE _places_ KRONOS + _in one throne, and sees_ RHEA _comfortably settled in another. + Then she sits on the ground between them, at_ RHEA'S _knees_.] + +CIRCE. + +There! We are all comfortable now. How did Kronos sleep, Rhea? + +RHEA. + +He has not complained this morning. [_Raising her voice._] Did +you sleep, Kronos? + +KRONOS [_vaguely_]. + +Yes, oh yes! I always sleep. Why should I not sleep? + +CIRCE. + +These new arrangements--I was afraid they might disturb you. + +RHEA [_to_ CIRCE]. + +He notices very little. I do not think he recollects that there has +been any change. Already he forgets Olympus. [_After a pause._] It +is very thoughtful of you, Circe, to take so much trouble about us. + +CIRCE. + +I have been anxious about you both. All the rest of us ought to be +able to console ourselves, but I am afraid that you will find it +very difficult to live in the new way. + +RHEA. + +Kronos will soon have forgotten that there was an old way; and as +for me, Circe, I have seen so much and wandered in so many places, +that one is as another to me. + +KRONOS. + +Is it Zeus who has driven us forth? + +CIRCE. + +Oh no! Zeus has led us hither. It was he who was attacked, it was +against him that the rage of the enemy was directed. + +KRONOS [_to himself_]. + +He let me stay where I was. We were not driven forth before, Rhea, +were we? When I saw that it was hopeless, I did not struggle; I +rose and took you by the hand.... + +RHEA. + +Yes; and we went half-way down the steps of the throne together.... + +KRONOS [_very excitedly_]. + +And we bowed to Zeus.... + +RHEA. + +And he walked forward as if he did not see us.... + +KRONOS. + +And then we came down, and I [_all his excitement falls from him_] +I cannot quite remember. Did he strike us, Rhea? + +RHEA. + +Oh! no, no! He swept straight on, and did not so much as seem to +see us, and in a moment he was up in the throne, and all the gods, +the new and the old, were bowing to him with acclamation. + +CIRCE [_looking up at_ RHEA, _with eager sympathy_]. + +What did _you_ do, you poor dears? + +RHEA [_after a pause_]. + +We did nothing. + +KRONOS. + +Zeus let us stay then. Why has he driven us out now? + +RHEA [_aside_]. + +He does not understand, Circe. It is very sweet of you to be so +kind to us, but you must go back now to your young companions. +Who is here? + +CIRCE. + +I think we are all here, or nearly all. I have not seen Iris, but +surely all the rest are here. + +RHEA. + +Is Zeus very much disturbed? On the ship I heard Æolus say that +it was impossible to go near him, he was so unreasonably angry. + +CIRCE. + +Yes, he thought that our miseries were all the fault of Poseidon +and Æolus. But mortality will make a great change in Zeus; I think +perhaps a greater change than in any of us. He has eaten a very +substantial breakfast. Æsculapius says that as Zeus has hitherto +considered the quality of his food so much, it is probable that +in these lower conditions it may prove to be quantity which will +interest him most. He was greatly pleased with a curious kind of +aromatic tube which Hermes invented for him this morning. + +RHEA. + +Does Zeus blow down it? + +CIRCE. + +No; he puts fire to one end of it, and draws in the vapour. He is +delighted. How clever Hermes is, is he not, Rhea? What shall you +do here? + +RHEA. + +I must look after Kronos, of course. But he gives me no trouble. +And I do not need to do much more. I am very tired, Circe. I was +tired in my immortality. When Kronos and I were young, things were +so very different in Olympus. + +CIRCE. + +How were they different? Do tell me what happened. I have always +longed to know, but it was not considered quite nice, quite +respectful to Zeus, for us to ask questions about the Golden Age. +But now it cannot matter; can it, Rhea? + +RHEA [_after a pause_]. + +The fact is that when I look back, I cannot see very plainly any +longer. Do you know, Circe, that after the younger Gods invaded +Heaven, although Zeus was very good-natured to us, and let us go +on as deities, something of our god-head passed away? + +KRONOS [_aloud, to himself_]. + +I said to him, "If I am unwelcome, I can go." And he answered, +"Pray don't discommode yourself." Just like that; very politely, +"Don't discommode yourself." And now he drives us away after all. + +CIRCE [_flinging herself over to_ KRONOS' _knees_]. + +Oh! Kronos, he does not drive you away! It is not he. It is our +new enemies, not of our own race, that have driven us. And we are +all here--Pallas, Ares, Phoebus--we are all here. You like Hermes, +do you not, Kronos? Well, Hermes is here, and he will amuse you. + +KRONOS. + +I thought that Zeus had forgiven us. But never mind, never mind! + +RHEA. + +We are tired, Circe. And what does the new life matter to us now? +The old life had run low, and we had long been prepared for +mortality by the poverty of our immortality. + + [_Enter_ HERMES _running_.] + +HERMES [_in reply to a gesture of_ CIRCE]. + +I cannot stay. I am trying to rouse Demeter from her dreadful state +of depression. She sits in the palace heaving deep sighs, and doing +absolutely nothing else. It will affect her heart, Æsculapius say. + +CIRCE. + +She has always been so closely wedded to the study of agriculture, +and now.... + +HERMES. + +Precisely. And it has occurred to me that the way to rouse her +will be to send Persephone to her in a little country cart I have +discovered. I have two mouse-coloured ponies already caught and +harnessed--such little beauties. The only thing left to do is to +search for Persephone. + +CIRCE. + +I will find her in a moment. [_Exit._] + +RHEA. + +We hear that you have already invented a means of amusing Zeus, +Hermes? Is he prepared to forget his thunderbolt? + +HERMES. + +He has mentioned it only twice this morning, and I have set +Hephæstus to work to make him another, of yew-tree wood. It will +be less incommodious, more fitted to this place, and in a very +short time Zeus will forget the original. + +KRONOS [_loudly, to himself_]. + +Zeus gave me an orb and sceptre to console me. I used to play cup +and ball with them behind his throne. + +RHEA [_in a solicitous aside to_ HERMES]. + +Oh! it is not true. Kronos' mind now wanders so strangely. He +thinks that it is Zeus who has turned him out of Olympus. + +HERMES [_in the same tone_]. + +Do not distress him, Rhea, by contradiction and explanation. I will +find modes of amusing him a little every day, and, for the rest, +let him doze in the sunshine. His mind is worn so smooth that it +fails any longer to catch in ideas as they flit against it. They +pass off, glide away. It is useless, Rhea, to torment Kronos. + +RHEA. + +I shall watch him, all day long. For I, too, am weary. Do not +propose to me, with your restless energy, any fresh interests. Let +me sit, with my cold hands folded in my lap, and look at Kronos, +nodding, nodding. It is very kind of Circe, but we are too old for +love; and of you, but we are too old for amusement. Let us rest, +Hermes, rest and sleep; perhaps dream a little, dream of the +far-away past. + + [CIRCE _and_ PERSEPHONE _enter from the left_.] + +PERSEPHONE [_to_ HERMES]. + +My mother requires so much activity of mind and body. You must not +believe that I was neglecting her. But I went forth in despair this +morning to see what I could invent, adapt, discover, as a means +of rousing her. I am stupid, I could think of nothing. I wandered +through the woods, down the glen, along the sea-shore, up the side +of the tarn and of the marsh, but I could think of nothing. + +CIRCE. + +And when I found Persephone she was lying, flung out among the +flowers, with bees and butterflies leaping round her in the +sunshine, and the beech-leaves singing their faint song of peace. +It was beautiful, it was like Enna--with, ah! such a difference. + +PERSEPHONE. + +Circe does not tell you that I was so foolish as to be in tears. +But now it seems that you have invented an occupation for Ceres? +You are so divinely ingenious. + +HERMES. + +I hope it may be successful. + +PERSEPHONE. + +Tell me what it is. + +HERMES. + +I have found at the back of the palace a small rural waggon, and +I have caught two ponies, with coats like grey velvet, and great +antelopes' eyes--dear little creatures. I have harnessed them, and +now I want you to sit in this cart, while I am dressed like some +herdsman of these barbarians, and lead the ponies, and we will go +together to coax Demeter out into the fields. + +PERSEPHONE. + +Oh! Hermes, how splendid of you. Let us fly to carry out your plan. +Circe, will you not come with us? + +CIRCE. + +Or shall I not rather go to prepare the mind of Demeter for an +agreeable surprise? Shall you be happy by yourselves, Kronos and +Rhea? + +RHEA. + +Quite happy, for we desire to sleep. + + [_Exit_ CIRCE _to right_, HERMES _and_ PERSEPHONE _to left_.] + + + + +III + + +[_A ring of turf, in a hollow of the slope, surrounded by beech-trees, + except on one side, where a marsh descends to a small tarn. Over + the latter is rising the harvest moon._ PHOEBUS APOLLO _alone; + he watches the luminary for a long time in silence_.] + +PHOEBUS. + + Selene! sister!--since that tawny shell, + Stained by thy tears and hollowed by thy sighs, + Recalls thee still to mind--dost thou regard, + From some tumultuous covert of this woodland, + Thy whilom sphere and palace? Nun of the skies, + In coy virginity of pulse, thy hands + Repelled me when I sought to win thy lair, + Fraternal, with no thoughts but humorous ones; + And in thy chill revulsion, through thy skies, + At my advance thy crystal home would fade, + A ghost, a shadow, a film, a papery dream. + Thou and thy moon were one. What is it now, + Thy phantom paradise of gorgeous pearl, + With sibilant streams and palmy tier on tier + Of wind-bewhitened foliage? Still it floats, + As when thy congregated harps and viols + Beat slow harmonious progress, light on light, + Across our stainless canopy of heaven. + Ah! but how changed, Selene! If thy form + Crouches among these harsher herbs, O turn + Thy withering face away, and press thine eyes + To darkness in the strings of dusty heather, + Since that loose globe of orange pallor totters, + Racked with the fires of anarchy, and sheds + The embers of thy glory; and the cradles + Of thy imperial maidenhood are foul + With sulphur and the craterous ash of hell. + O gaze not, sister, on the loathsome wreck + Of what was once thy moon. Yet, if thou must + With tear-fed eyes visit thine ancient realm, + Bend down until the fringe of thy faint lids + Hides all save what is in this tarn reflected-- + Cold, pallid, swimming in the lustrous pool, + There only worthy of thy clear regard, + A vision purified in woe. + + [_The reeds in the tarn are stirred, and there is audible a faint + shriek and a ripple of laughter. A shrouded figure rises from + the marsh, and, hastening by_ PHOEBUS _through the darkness, + is lost in the woods. It is followed closely by_ PAN, _who, + observing_ PHOEBUS, _pauses in embarrassment_.] + +PHOEBUS. + +I thought I was alone. + +PAN. + +And so did we, sire. + +PHOEBUS. + +Am I to congratulate you on your distractions? + +PAN. + +I have a natural inclination to marshy places. + +PHOEBUS. + +This is a ghastly night, Pan. + +PAN. + +I had not observed it, sire. Yes, doubtless a ghastly night. +But I was occupied, and I am no naturalist. This glen curiously +reminded me of rushy Ladon. I am a great student of reeds, and +I was agreeably surprised to find some very striking specimens +here--worthy of the Arcadian watercourses, as I am a deity. I +should say, _was_ a deity. + +PHOEBUS. + +They will help, perhaps, to reconcile you to mortality. You can +add them to your collection. + +PAN. + +That, sire, is my hope. The stems are particularly full and smooth, +and the heads of the best of them rustle back with a profusion of +flaxen flowerage, remarkably agreeable to the touch. I broke one as +your Highness approached. But the wind, or some goblin, bore it +from me. This curious place seems full of earth-spirits. + +PHOEBUS. + +You must study them, too, Pan. That will supply you with another +object. + +PAN. + +But the marsh water has a property unknown to the Olympian springs. +I suspect it of being poisoned. After standing long in it, I found +myself troubled with aching in the shank, from knee to hoof. If +this is repeated, my studies of reed-life will be made dolorously +difficult. + +PHOEBUS. + +It must now be part of your pleasure to husband your enjoyments. +You have always rolled in the twinkle of the vine-leaves, hot +enough and not too hot, with grapes--immense musky clusters--just +within your reach. If you think of it philosophically---- + +PAN. + +How, sire? + +PHOEBUS. + +Philosophically.... Well, if you think of it sensibly, you will +see that there was a certain dreariness in this uniformity of +satisfaction. Rather amusing, surely, to find the cluster +occasionally spring up out of reach, to find the polished waist +of the reed slip from your hands? Occasionally, of course; just +enough to give a zest to pursuit. + +PAN. + +Ah! there was pursuit in Ladon, but it was pursuit which always +closed easily in capture. What I am afraid of is that here capture +may prove the exception. Your Highness ... but a slight family +connection and our adversities are making me strangely familiar.... + +PHOEBUS. + +Speak on, my good Pan. + +PAN. + +Your Highness was once something of a botanist? + +PHOEBUS. + +A botanist? Ah, scarcely! A little arboriculture, the laurel; a +little horticulture, the sun-flower. Those varieties seem entirely +absent here, and I have no thought of replacing them. + +PAN. + +The last thing I should dream of suggesting would be a _hortus +siccus_.... + +PHOEBUS. + +And I was never a consistent collector. There are reeds everywhere, +you fortunate goat-foot, but even in Olympus I was the creature of +a fastidious selection. + +PAN. + +The current of the thick and punctual blood never left me liable +to the distractions of choice. + +PHOEBUS. + +I congratulate you, Pan, upon your temperament, and I recommend +to you a further pursuit of the attainable. + + [PAN _makes a profound obeisance and disappears in the woodland_. + PHOEBUS _watches him depart, and then turns to the moon_.] + +PHOEBUS [_alone_]. + +His familiarity was not distasteful to me. It reminded me of days +out hunting, when I have come suddenly upon him at the edge of the +watercourse, and have shared his melons and his conversation. I +anticipate for him some not unagreeable experiences. The lower +order of divinities will probably adapt themselves with ease +to our new conditions. They despaired the most suddenly, with +wringing of hands as we raced to the sea, with interminable +babblings and low moans and screams, as they clustered on the deck +of that extraordinary vessel. But the science of our new life must +be to forget or to remember. We must live in the past or forego +the past. For Pan and his likes I conceive that it will largely +resolve itself into a question of temperature--of temperature and +of appetite. That orb is of a sinister appearance, but to do it +justice it looks heated. My sister had a passion for coldness; she +would never permit me to lend her any of my warmth. I cannot say +that it is chilly here to-night. I am agreeably surprised. + + [_The veiled figure flits across again, and_ PAN _once more + crosses in close pursuit_.] + +PHOEBUS [_as they vanish_]. + +What an amiable vivacity! Yes; the lower order of divinities will +be happy, for they will forget. We, on the contrary, have the +privilege of remembering. It is only the mediocre spirits, that +cannot quite forget nor clearly remember, which will have neither +the support of instinct nor the solace of a vivid recollection. + + [_He seats himself. A noise of laughter rises from the marsh, + and dies away. In the silence a bird sings._] + +PHOEBUS. + +Not the Daulian nightingale, of course, but quite a personable +substitute: less prolongation of the triumph, less insistence upon +the agony. How curiously the note breaks off! Some pleasant little +northern bird, no doubt. I experience a strange and quite +unprecedented appetite for moderation. The absence of the thrill, +the shaft, the torrent is not disagreeable. The actual Phocian +frenzy would be disturbing here, out of place, out of time. I must +congratulate this little, doubtless brown, bird on a very +considerable skill in warbling. But the moon--what is happening +to _it_? It is not merely climbing higher, but it is manifestly +clarifying its light. When I came, it was copper-coloured, now it +is honey-coloured, the horn of it is almost white like milk. This +little bird's incantation has, without question, produced this +fortunate effect. This little bird, halfway on the road between +the nightingale and the cicada, is doubtless an enchanter, and one +whose art possesses a more than respectable property. My sister's +attention should be drawn to this highly interesting circumstance. +Selene! Selene! + + [_He calls and waits. From the upper woods_ SELENE _slowly + descends, wrapped in long white garments_.] + +PHOEBUS. + +Sister, behold the throne that once was thine. + +SELENE. + +And now, a rocking cinder, fouls the skies. + +PHOEBUS. + +A magian sweeps its filthy ash away. + +SELENE. + +There is no magic in the bankrupt world. + +PHOEBUS. + +Nay, did'st thou hear this twittering peal of song? + +SELENE. + +Some noise I heard; this glen is full of sounds. + +PHOEBUS. + +Fling back thy veil, and staunch thy tears, and gaze. + +SELENE. + +At thee, my brother, not at my darkened orb. + +PHOEBUS. + +Gaze then at me. What seest thou in mine eyes? + +SELENE. + +Foul ruddy gleams from what was lately pure. + +PHOEBUS. + +Nay, but thou gazest not. Look up, look at me! + +SELENE. + +But on thy sacred eyeballs fume turns fire. + +PHOEBUS. + +Nay, then, turn once and see thy very moon. + +SELENE [_turning round_]. + +Ah! wonder! the volcanic glare is gone. + +PHOEBUS. + +The wizard bird has sung the fumes away. + +SELENE. + +Empty it seems, and vain; but foul no more. + +PHOEBUS [_approaching her, and in a confidential tone_]. + +I will not disguise from you, Selene, my apprehension that the +hideous colour may return. Your moon is divorced from yourself, +and can but be desecrated and forlorn. But at least it should +be a matter of interest to you--yes, even of gratification, my +sister--that this little bird, if it be a bird, has an enchanting +power of temporarily relieving it and raising it. + + [SELENE, _manifestly more cheerful, ascends to the wood on + the left_. PHOEBUS, _turning again to the moon_,] + +I have observed that this species of mysterious agency has a very +salutary effect upon the more melancholy of our female divinities. +They are satisfied if they have the felicity of waiting for +something which they cannot be certain of realising, and which they +attribute to a cause impossible to investigate. [_To_ SELENE, +_raising his voice_.] Whither do you go, my sister? + +SELENE. + +I am searching for this little bird. I propose to discuss with +it the nature of its extraordinary, and I am ready to admit its +gratifying, control over the moon. I think it possible that I may +concoct with it some scheme for our return. You shall, in that +case, Phoebus, be no longer excluded from my domain. + +PHOEBUS. + +Let me urge you to do no such thing. The action of this little +bird upon your unfortunate luminary is sympathetic, but surely +very obscure. It would be a pity to inquire into it so closely +as to comprehend it. + + [SELENE, _without listening to him, passes up into the woods, + and exit_.] + +PHOEBUS [_alone_]. + +To comprehend it might even be to discover that it does not exist. +Whereas to come here night after night, in the fragrant darkness, +to see the unhallowed lump of fire creep out of the lake, to +listen for the first clucks and shakes of the sweet little +purifying song, and to watch the orb growing steadily more hyaline +and lucent under its sway, how delicious! The absolute harmony and +concord of nature would be then patent and recurrent before us. +My poor sister! However, it is consoling to reflect that she is +almost certain not to be able to find that bird. + + + + +IV + + +[_The same glen._ ÆSCULAPIUS _alone, busily arranging a great + cluster of herbs which he has collected. He sits on a large + stone, with his treasures around him_.] + +ÆSCULAPIUS. + +Yew--an excellent styptic. Tansy, rosemary. Spurge and marsh +mallow. The best pellitory I ever plucked out of a wall. The herbs +of this glen are admirable. They surpass those of the gorges of +Cyllene. Is this lavender? The scent seems more acrid. + + [_Enter_ PALLAS _and_ EUTERPE.] + +PALLAS. + +You look enviably animated, Æsculapius. Your countenance is so +fresh beneath that long white beard of yours, that the barbarians +will suppose you to be some mad boy, masquerading. + +EUTERPE. + +What will you do with these plants? + +ÆSCULAPIUS. + +These are my simples. As we shot through the Iberian narrows on our +frantic voyage hither, my entire store was blown out of my hands +and away to sea. The rarest sorts were flung about on rocks where +nothing more valetudinarian than a baboon could possibly taste +them. My earliest care on arriving here was to search these woods +for fresh specimens, and my success has been beyond all hope. See, +this comes from the wet lands on the hither side of the tarn---- + +EUTERPE. + +Where Selene is now searching for the wizard who draws the smoke +away from the moon's face at night. + +ÆSCULAPIUS. + +This from the beck where it rushes down between the stems of +mountain-ash, this from beneath the vast ancestral elm below the +palace, this from the sea-shore. Marvellous! And I am eager to +descend again; I have not explored the cliff which breaks the +descent of the torrent, nor the thicket in the gully. There must +be marchantia under the spray of the one, and possibly dittany in +the peat of the other. + +PALLAS. + +We must not detain you, Æsculapius. But tell us how you propose +to adapt yourself to our new life. It seems to me that you are +determined not to find it irksome. + +ÆSCULAPIUS. + +Does it not occur to you, Pallas, that--although I should never +have had the courage to adopt it--thus forced upon us it offers +me the most dazzling anticipations? Hitherto my existence has been +all theory. What there is to know about the principles of health as +applied to the fluctuations of mortality, I may suppose is known to +me. You might be troubled, Pallas, with every conceivable malady, +from elephantiasis to earache, and I should be in a position to +analyse and to deal with each in turn. You might be obscured by +ophthalmia, crippled by gout or consumed to a spectre by phthisis, +and I should be able, without haste, without anxiety, to unravel +the coil, to reduce the nodosities, to make the fleshy instrument +respond in melody to all your needs. + +PALLAS. + +But you have never done this. We knew that you _could_ do it, and +that has been enough for us. + +ÆSCULAPIUS. + +It has never been enough for me. The impenetrable immortality of +all our bodies has been a constant source of exasperation to me. + +PALLAS. + +Is it not much to know? + +ÆSCULAPIUS. + +Yes; but it is more to _do_. The most perfect theory carries a +monotony and an emptiness about with it, if it is never renovated +by practice. In Olympus the unbroken health of all the inmates, +which we have accepted as a matter of course, has been more +advantageous to them than it has been to me. + +PALLAS. + +I quite see that it has made your position a more academic one than +you could wish. + +ÆSCULAPIUS. + +It has made it purely academic, and indeed, Pallas, if you will +reflect upon it, the very existence of a physician in a social +system which is eternally protected against every species of bodily +disturbance borders upon the ridiculous. + +PALLAS. + +It would interest me to know whether in our old home you were +conscious of this incongruity, of this lack of harmony between your +science and your occasions of using it. + +ÆSCULAPIUS. + +No; I think not. I was satisfied in the possession of exact +knowledge, and not directly aware of the charm of application. It +is the result, no doubt, of this resignation of immortality which +has startled and alarmed us all so much---- + +PALLAS. + +Me, Æsculapius, it has neither alarmed nor startled. + +ÆSCULAPIUS. + +I mean that while we were beyond the dread of any attack, the +pleasure of rebutting such attack was unknown to us. I have +divined, since our misfortunes, that disease itself may bring an +excitement with it not all unallied to pleasure.... You smile, +Euterpe, but I mean even for the sufferer. There is more in +disease than the mere pang and languishment. There is the sense +of alleviation, the cessation of the throb, the resuming glitter +in the eye, the restoration of cheerfulness and appetite. These, +Pallas, are qualities which are indissolubly identified with pain +and decay, and which therefore--if we rightly consider--were wholly +excluded from our experience. In Olympus we never brightened, for +we never flagged; we never waited for a pang to subside, nor felt +it throbbing less and less poignantly, nor, as if we were watching +an enemy from a distance, hugged ourselves in a breathless ecstasy +as it faded altogether; this exquisite experience was unknown to +us, for we never endured the pang. + +EUTERPE. + +You make me eager for an illness. What shall it be? Prescribe one +for me. I am ignorant even of the names of the principal maladies. +Let it be a not unbecoming one. + +ÆSCULAPIUS. + +Ah! no, Euterpe. Your mind still runs in the channel of your lost +impermeability. Till now, you might fling yourself from the crags +of Tartarus, or float, like a trail of water-plants, on the long, +blown flood of the altar-flame, and yet take no hurt, being +imperishable. But now, part of your hourly occupation, part of your +faith, your hope, your duty, must be to preserve your body against +the inroads of decay. + +EUTERPE. + +You present us with a tedious conception of our new existence, +surely. + +ÆSCULAPIUS. + +Why should it be tedious? There was tedium, rather, in the +possession of bodies as durable as metal, as renewable as wax, +as insensitive as water. In the fiercest onset of the passions, +prolonged to satiety, there was always an element of the unreal. +What is pleasure, if the strain of it is followed by no fatigue; +what the delicacy of taste, if we can eat like caverns and drink +like conduits without being vexed by the slightest inconvenience? +You will discover that one of the acutest enjoyments of the mortal +state will be found to consist in guarding against suffering. If +you are provided with balloons attached to all your members, you +float upon the sea with indifference. It is the certainty that you +will drown if you do not swim which gives zest to the exercise. I +climb along yonder jutting cornice of the cliff with eagerness, +and pluck my simples with a hand that trembles more from joy than +fear, precisely because the strain of balancing the nerves, and +the certainty of suffering as the result of carelessness, knit +my sensations together into an exaltation which is not exactly +pleasure, perhaps, but which is not to be distinguished from it +in its exciting properties. + +PALLAS. + +Is life, then, to resolve itself for us into a chain of +exhilarating pangs? + +ÆSCULAPIUS. + +Life will now be for you, for all of us, a perpetual combat with a +brine that half supports, half drags us under; a continual creeping +and balancing on a chamois path around the forehead of a precipice. +A headache will be the breaking of a twig, a fever a stone that +gives way beneath your foot, to lose the use of an organ will be +to let the alpenstock slip out of your starting fingers. And the +excitement, and be sure the happiness, of existence will be to +protract the struggle as long as possible, to push as far as you +can along the dwindling path, to keep the supports and the +alleviations of your labour about you as skilfully as you can, +and in the fuss and business of the little momentary episodes of +climbing to forget as long and as fully as may be the final and +absolutely unavoidable plunge. [_A pause, during which_ EUTERPE +_sinks upon the green sward_.] + +ÆSCULAPIUS. + +I have unfolded before you a scheme of philosophical activity. Are +you not gratified? + +PALLAS. + +Euterpe will learn to be gratified, Æsculapius, but she had not +reflected upon the plunge. If she will take my counsel, she will +continue to avoid doing so. [EUTERPE _rises, and approaches_ +PALLAS, _who continues, to_ ÆSCULAPIUS.] I am with you in +recommending to her a constant consideration of the momentary +episodes of health. And now let us detain you no longer from the +marchanteas. + +EUTERPE. + +But pray recollect that they grow where the rocks are both slippery +and shelving. + + [_Exit_ ÆSCULAPIUS. EUTERPE _sinks again upon the grass, with her + face in her hands, and lies there motionless_. PALLAS _walks + up and down, in growing emotion, and at length breaks forth + in soliloquy_.] + +PALLAS. + + Higher than this dull circle of the sense-- + Shrewd though its pulsing sharp reminders be, + With ceaseless fairy blows that ring and wake + The anvil of the brain--I rather choose + To lift mine eyes and pierce + The long transparent bar that floats above, + And hides, or feigns to hide, the choiring stars, + And dulls, or faintly dulls, the fiery sun, + And lacquers all the glassy sky with gold. + For so the strain that makes this mortal life + Irksome or squalid, chains that bind us down, + Rust on those chains which soils the reddening skin, + Passes; and in that concentrated calm, + And in that pure concinnity of soul, + And in that heart that almost fails to beat, + I read a faint beatitude, and dream + I walk once more upon the roof of Heaven, + And feel all knowledge, all capacity + For sovereign thought, all intellectual joy, + Blow on me, like fluttering and like dancing winds. + We are fallen, fallen!... + And yet a nameless mirth, flooding my veins, + And yet a sense of limpid happiness + And buoyancy and anxious fond desire + Quicken my being. It is much to see + The perfected geography of thought + Spread out before the gorged intelligence, + A map from further detail long absolved. + But ah! when we have tasted the delight + Of toilsome apprehension, how return + To that satiety of mental ease + Where all is known because it merely is? + Nay, here the joy will be to learn and learn, + To learn in error and correct in pain, + To learn through effort and with ease forget, + Building of rough and slippery stones a House, + Long schemed, and falling from us, and at the last + Imperfect. Knowledge not the aim, so much + As pleasure in the toil that leads to knowledge, + We shall build, although the house before our eyes + Crumble, and we shall gladden in the toil + Although it never leads to habitation-- + Building our goal, though never a fabric rise. + + + + +V + + +[_The glen, down which a limpid and murmuring brook descends, with + numerous tiny cascades and pools. Beside one of the latter, + underneath a great beech-tree, and sitting on the root of it_, + APHRODITE, _alone. Enter from below, concealed at first by the + undergrowth_, ARES. _It is mid-day._] + +APHRODITE [_to herself_]. + +Here he comes at last, and from the opposite direction.... No! +that cannot be Phoebus.... Ah! it is you, then! + +ARES. + +Is it possible? Your Majesty--and alone! + +APHRODITE. + +Phoebus offered me the rustic entertainment of gathering wild +raspberries. We found some at length, and regaled ourselves. I +wished for more, and Phoebus, with his usual gallantry, wandered +dreamily away into the forest on the quest. He has evidently lost +his way. I sat me down on this tree and waited. + +ARES. + +Surely it is the first time that you were ever abroad unattended. +I am amazed at the carelessness of Phoebus. Aphrodite--without an +attendant! + +APHRODITE. + +That is rather a fatuous remark, and from you of all people in +the world. My most agreeable reminiscences are, without exception, +connected with occasions on which I had escaped from my body-guard +of nymphs. At the present moment you would do well to face the +fact, Ares, that I have but a single maid, and that she has +collapsed under the burdens of novelty and exile. + +ARES. + +Is that my poor friend Cydippe? + +APHRODITE. + +You have so many friends, Ares. Poor Cydippe, then, broke down this +morning in moaning hysterics after having borne up just long enough +to do my hair. I really came out on this rather mad adventure after +the raspberries to escape the dolours of her countenance, and +the last thing I saw was her chlamys flung wildly over her head +as she dived down upon the floor in misery. Such consolations as +this island has to give me will not proceed from what you call my +attendant. You do not look well, Ares. + +ARES. + +I am always well. I am still incensed. + +APHRODITE. + +Ah, you are oppressed by our misfortunes? + +ARES. + +I can think of nothing else. + +APHRODITE. + +You do not, I hope, give way to the most foolish of the emotions, +and endure the silly torture of self-reproach? + +ARES. + +I have nothing to reproach myself with. Our forces had never been +in smarter trim, public spirit in Olympus never more patriotic +and national; and as to the personal bravery of our forces, it was +simply a portent of moral splendour. + +APHRODITE. + +And your discipline? + +ARES. + +It was perfect. I had led the troops up to the point of cheerfully +marching and counter-marching until they were ready to drop with +exhaustion, on the eve of each engagement; and at the ends of all +our practising-grounds brick walls had been set up, at which every +officer made it a point of honour to tilt head-foremost once a day. +There was no refinement preserved from the good old wars of +chivalry which was not familiar to our gallant fellows, and I had +expressly forbidden every species of cerebral exercise. Nothing, +I have always said, is so hurtful to the temper of an army as for +the rank and file to suspect that they are led by men of brains. + +APHRODITE. + +There every one must do you justice, Ares. I never heard even the +voice of prejudice raised to accuse you. + +ARES. + +No; I do not think any one could have the effrontery to charge me +with encouraging that mental effort which is so disastrous to the +work of a soldier. The same old practices which led our forefathers +to glory--the courage of tigers; the firm belief that if any one +tried to be crafty it must be because he is a coward; a bull-front +set straight at every obstacle, whatever its nature; a proper +contempt for any plan or discovery made since the days of Father +Uranus--these are the principles in which I disciplined our troops, +and I will not admit that I can have anything to reproach myself +with. The circumstances which we were unexpectedly called upon to +face were such as could never have been anticipated. + +APHRODITE. + +I do not see that you could have done otherwise than, as you did, +to refuse with dignity to anticipate anything so revolutionary. + +ARES. + +There are certain things which one seems to condone by merely +acknowledging their existence. That employment of mobile +mechanisms, for instance---- + +APHRODITE. + +Do not speak of it! I could never have believed that the semblance +of the military could be made so excessively distasteful to me. + +ARES. + +Can I imagine myself admitting the necessity of guarding against +such an ungentlemanlike form of attack? + +APHRODITE. + +Your friends are all aware, Ares, that if the conditions were +to return, you would never demean yourself and them by guarding +against anything of the kind. But I advise you not to brood upon +the past. Your figure will suffer. You must keep up your character +for solid and agile exercises. + +ARES. + +It will not be easy for me to occupy myself here. I am accustomed, +as you know, to hunting and slaying. I thought I might have enjoyed +some sport with the barbarian islanders, and I selected one for the +purpose. But Zeus intervened, with that authority which even here, +in our shattered estate, we know not how to resist. + +APHRODITE. + +Did he give any reason for preventing the combat? + +ARES. + +Yes; and his reasons (I was bound to admit) carried some weight +with them. He said, first, that it was wrong to kill those who had +received us with so generous a hospitality; and secondly, that, as +I am no longer immortal, this brawny savage, with hair so curiously +coiled and matted over his brain-pan, might kill me; and thirdly, +that the whole affair might indirectly lead to his, Zeus', personal +inconvenience. Here then is enjoyment by one door quite shut out +from me. + +APHRODITE. + +Are there not deer in these woods, and perhaps wolves and boars? +There must be wild duck on the firth, and buzzards in the rocks. +Instead of challenging the barbarians to a foolish trial of +strength, why not make them your companions, and learn their +accomplishments? + +ARES. + +It is possible that I shall do so. But for the present, anger +gushes like an intermittent spring of bitter water in my bosom. I +forget for a moment, and the fountain falls; and then, with a rush, +memory leaps up in me, a column of poison. I say to myself, It cannot +be, it shall not be; but I grow calm again and find that it is. + +APHRODITE. + +The worst of the old immortality was the carelessness of it. We +were utterly unprepared for anything bordering on catastrophe, and +behold, without warning, we are swept away in a complete cataclysm +of our fortunes. I see, Ares, that it will be long before you can +recover serenity, or take advantage of the capabilities of our new +existence. They will appeal to you more slowly than to the rest +of us, and you will respond more unwillingly, because of your +lack--your voluntary and boasted lack--of all intellectual +suppleness. + +ARES. + +It is not the business of a soldier to be supple. + +APHRODITE. + +So it appears. And you will suffer for it. For, stiff and blank as +you may determine to be, circumstances will overpower you. Under +their influences you will not be able to avoid becoming softer and +more redundant. But you will resist the process, I see, and you +will make it as painful as you can. + +ARES. + +You discuss my case with a cheerful candour, Aphrodite. Are you +sure of being happier yourself? + +APHRODITE. + +Not _sure_; but I have a reasonable confidence that I shall be +fairly contented. For I, at least, am supple, and I court the +influences which you think it a point of gallantry to resist. + +ARES. + +You will continue, I suppose, to make your main business the +stimulating and the guiding of the affections? Here I admit that +suppleness, as you call it, is in place. + +APHRODITE. + +Unfortunately, even here, immortality was no convenient prelude +to our present state. We did not, indeed, neglect the heart---- + +ARES. + +If I forget all else, there must be events---- + +APHRODITE. + +Alas! we loved so briefly and with so facile a susceptibility, that +I am tempted to ask myself whether in Olympus we really loved at all. + +ARES [_with ardour_]. + +There, at least, memory supplies me with no sort of doubt---- + +APHRODITE [_coldly_]. + +Let us keep to generalities. Looking broadly at our experience, I +should say that the misfortune of the gods, as a preparation for +their mortality, was that in their deathless state the affections +fell at the foot of the tree, like these withered leaves. We should +have fastened the branches of life together in long elastic wires +of the thin-drawn gold of perdurable sentiment. + +ARES. + +The rapture, the violence, the hammering pulse, the bursting +heart,--I see no resemblance between these and the leaves that +flutter at our feet. + +APHRODITE. + +These leaves had their moment of vitality, when the sap rushed +through their veins, when their tissue was like a ripple of +sparkling emerald on the face of the smiling sky. But they could +not preserve their glow, and they are the more hopelessly dead +now, because they burned in their green fire so fiercely. + +ARES. + +We felt no shadow of coming disability strike across our pleasures. + +APHRODITE. + +No; but that was precisely what made our immortality such an ill +preparation for a brief existence on this island. In Olympus the +sentiment of yesterday was forgotten, and we realised the passion +of to-day as little as the caprice of to-morrow. Perhaps this +fragmentary tenderness was the real chastisement of our implacable +prosperity. + +ARES [_in a very low voice_]. + +Can we not resume in this our exile, and with more prospect of +continuity, the emotions which were so agreeable in our former +state? So agreeable--although, as you justly say, too ephemeral +[_coming a little closer_]. Can you not teach us to moderate and +to prolong the rapture? + +APHRODITE [_rising to her feet_]. + +It may be. We shall see, Ares. But one thing I have already +perceived. In this mortal sphere, the heart needs solitude, it +needs silence. It must have its questionings and its despairs. The +triumphant supremacy of the old emotions cannot be repeated here. +For we have a new enemy to contend with. Even if love should +prosecute its conquests here in all the serenity of success, it +will not be able to escape from an infliction worse than any which +we dreamed of when we were immortals. + +ARES. + +And what is that, Aphrodite? + +APHRODITE. + +The blight of indifference. + + + + +VI + + +[APHRODITE _and_ CIRCE _are seated on the grass in a little dell + surrounded by beechwoods. Far away a bell is heard._] + +CIRCE. + +What is that curious distant sound? Is it a bird? + +APHRODITE. + +Cydippe tells me that there is a temple on the hill beyond these +woods. I wonder to whom amongst us it is dedicated? + +CIRCE. + +I think it must be to you, Aphrodite, for now it is explained that +on coming hither I met a throng of men and maidens, sauntering +slowly along in twos, exactly as they used to do at Paphos. + +APHRODITE. + +Were they walking apart, or wound together by garlands? + +CIRCE. + +They were wound together by the arm of the boy coiled about the +waist of the girl, or resting upon it, a symbol, no doubt, of your +cestus. + +APHRODITE [_eagerly_]. + +With any animation of gesture, Circe? + +CIRCE. + +With absolutely none. The maidens were dressed--but not all of +them--in robes of that very distressing electric blue that bites +into the eye, that blue which never was on sky or sea, and which +was absolutely banished from every colour-combination in Olympus. +It was employed in Hades as a form of punishment, if you recollect. + +APHRODITE. + +No doubt, then, this procession was a penitential one, and its +object to appease my offended deity. But what a mistake, poor +things! No one ever regained my favour by making a frump of herself. + +CIRCE. + +After these couples, came, in a very slow but formless moving +group, figures of a sombre and spectral kind, draped, both males +and females, in dull black, with little ornaments of gold in their +hands. It was with the utmost amazement that, on their coming +closer, I recognised some of the faces as those of the ruddy, +gentle barbarians to whom we owe our existence here. You cannot +think how painful it was to see them thus travestied. In their +well-fitting daily dress they look very attractive in a rustic +mode; there is one large one that labours in the barn, who +reminds me, when his sleeves are turned up, of Ulysses. But, oh! +Aphrodite, you must contrive to let them know that you pardon +their shortcomings, and relieve them from the horrors of this +remorseful costume. I know not which is more depressing to +the heart, the blue of the young or the black of the aged. + +APHRODITE. + +I expect that at this distance from the centre of things, all +manner of misconception has crept into my ritual. Of course, I +cannot now demand any rites, and that the dear good people should +pay them at all is very touching. + +CIRCE. + +Don't you think that it would be delightful to introduce here a +purer form of liturgy? It is very sad to see your spirit so little +understood. + +APHRODITE. + +Well, I hardly know. It is kind of you, Circe, to suggest such a +thing. No doubt it would be very pleasant. But I feel, of course, +the hollowness of the whole concern. We must be careful not to +deceive the barbarians. + +CIRCE. + +Certainly ... oh! yes, certainly. But ... I am sure it would be so +good for them to have a ritual to follow. We should not absolutely +assert to them that you still exist as an immortal, but I do not +see why we should insist on tearing every illusion away from them. +Suppose I could persuade them that you were no longer displeased +with them, and that you were quite willing to let them wear pink +and white robes again, and plenty of flowers in their hair; and +suppose I encouraged them to sacrifice turtle-doves on your altar, +and arrange garlands of wild roses in the proper way, don't you +think you could bring yourself to make a concession? + +APHRODITE. + +What do you mean by a "concession"? + +CIRCE. + +Well, for instance, when they were all assembled in the temple, and +had sung a hymn, and the priest had gone up to the altar, could you +not suddenly make an appearance, voluminous and splendid, and smile +upon them? Could you not shower a few champak-blossoms over the +congregation? + +APHRODITE. + +It is very ingenious of you to think of these things. But I suppose +it would not be right to attempt to do it. In the first place it +would encourage them to believe in my immortality---- + +CIRCE. + +Oh! but to _believe_ is such a salutary discipline to the lower +classes. That is the whole principle of religion, surely, +Aphrodite? It is not for people like ourselves. You know how +indolent Dionysus is, but he always attended the temple when he +was hunting upon Nysa. + +APHRODITE. + +There is a great deal in that argument, no doubt. Only, what will +be the result when they discover that it is all a mistake, and +that I am a mortal like themselves? + +CIRCE. + +You never can be a mortal like the barbarians, for you have been a +force ruling the sea, and the flowers, and the winds, and twisting +the blood of man and woman in your fingers like a living skein of +soft red silk. They will always worship you. It may not be in +temples any longer, not with a studied liturgy, but wherever the +sap rises in a flower, or the joy of life swims up in the morning +through the broken film of dreams, or a young man perceives for +the first time that the girl he meets is comely, you will be +worshipped, Aphrodite, for the essence of your immortality is the +cumulative glow of its recurrent mortality. + +HERMES [_entering abruptly_]. + +You will be disappointed---- + +CIRCE. + +Ah! you followed the youths and maidens to the little temple of +our friend. Is it not beautiful? + +HERMES. + +It is hideous. + +CIRCE. + +Are you sure that it is a temple at all? + +HERMES. + +I confess that I was for a long time uncertain, but on the whole +I believe that it is. + +APHRODITE. + +But is it dedicated to me? + +HERMES. + +That is the disappointment.... It is best to tell you at once +that I see no evidence whatever that it is. + +CIRCE. + +I am very much disappointed. + +APHRODITE. + +I am very much relieved. But could you not gather from the +decoration of the interior to whom of us it is inscribed? + +HERMES. + +It is not decorated at all: whitewashed walls, wooden benches, +naked floors. + +CIRCE. + +But what is the nature of the sculpture? + +HERMES. + +I could see no sculpture, except a sort of black tablet, with +names upon it, and at the sides two of the youthful attendants of +Eros--those that have wings, indeed, but cannot rest. These were +exceedingly ill-carven in a kind of limestone. And I hardly like +to tell you what I found behind the altar---- + +APHRODITE. + +I am not easily shocked. My poor worshippers sometimes demand a +very considerable indulgence. + +CIRCE. + +Nothing very ugly, I hope? + +HERMES. + +Yes; very ugly, and still more incomprehensible. But nothing that +could spring out of any misconception of the ritual of our friend. +No; I hardly like to tell you. Well, a gaunt painted figure, with +spines about the bleeding forehead---- + +APHRODITE. + +Was it fastened to any symbol? Did you notice anything that +explained the horror of it? + +HERMES. + +No. I did not observe it very closely. As I was glancing at it, +the celebration or ritual, or whatever we are to call it, began, +and I withdrew to the door, not knowing what frenzy might seize +upon the worshippers. + +APHRODITE. + +There was a cannibal altar in Arcadia to Phoebus, so I have +heard. He instantly destroyed it, and scattered the ignorant +savages who had raised it. + +HERMES. + +There was a touch of desolate majesty about this figure. I fear +that it portrays some blighting Power of suffering or of grief. +[_He shudders._] + +APHRODITE. + +There are certainly deities of whom we knew nothing in Olympus. +Perhaps this is the temple of some Unknown God. + +HERMES. + +I admit that I thought, with this picture, and with their sinister +garments of black and of blue, and with the bareness and harshness +of the temple, that something might be combined which it would +give me no satisfaction to witness. I placed myself near the door, +where, in a moment, I could have regained the exquisite forest, and +the odour of this carpet of woodruff, and your enchanting society. +But nothing occurred to disconcert me. After genuflexions and +liftings of the voice---- + +APHRODITE. + +What was the object of these? + +HERMES. + +I absolutely failed to determine. Well, the priest--if I can so +describe a man without apparent dedication, robed without charm, +and exalted by no visible act of sacrifice--ascended a species of +open box, and spoke to the audience from the upturned lid of it. + +CIRCE. + +What did he say? Did he explain the religion of his people? + +HERMES. + +To tell you the truth, Circe, although I listened with what +attention I could, and although the actual language was perfectly +clear to me--you know I am rather an accomplished linguist--I +formed no idea of what he said. I could not find the starting-point +of his experience. + +CIRCE. + +To whom can this temple be possibly dedicated? + +APHRODITE. + +Depend upon it, it is not a temple at all. What Hermes was present +at was unquestionably some gathering of local politicians. Poor +these barbarians may be, but they could not excuse by poverty such +a neglect of the decencies as he describes. No flowers, no bright +robes, no music of stringed instruments, no sacrifice--it is quite +impossible that the meanest of sentient beings should worship in +such a manner. And as for the picture which you saw behind what you +took to be the altar, I question not that it is used to keep in +memory some ancestor who suffered from the tyranny of his masters. +In the belief that he was assisting at a process of rustic worship, +our poor Hermes has doubtless attended a revolutionary meeting. + +CIRCE. + +Dreadful! But may its conflicts long keep outside the arcades of +this delightful woodland! + +HERMES. + +And still we know not to which of us the mild barbarians pray! + + + + +VII + + + [_The same scene, but no one present. A butterfly flits across + from the left, makes several pirouettes and exit to the + right._ HERA _enters quickly from the left_.] + +HERA. + +Could I be mistaken? What is this overpowering perfume? Is it +conceivable that in this new world odours take corporeal shape? +Anything is conceivable, except that I was mistaken in thinking +that I saw it fly across this meadow. It can only have been +beckoning me. [_The butterfly re-enters from the right, and, after +towering upwards, and wheeling in every direction, settles on a +cluster of meadow-sweet. It is followed from the right by_ EROS. +_He and_ HERA _look at one another in silence_.] + +HERA. + +You are occupied, Eros. I will not detain you. + +EROS. + +I propose to stay here for a little while. Are you moving on? +[_Each of them fixes eyes on the insect._] + +HERA. + +I must beg you to leave me, or to remain perfectly motionless. I +am excessively agitated. + +EROS. + +I followed the being which is hanging downwards from that spray +of blossom. Does it recall some one to you? + +HERA. + +Not in its present position. But I will not pretend, Eros, that +it is not the source of my agitation. Look at it now, as it flings +itself round the stalk, and opens and waves its fans. Do you still +not comprehend? + +EROS. + +I see nothing in it now. I am disappointed. + +HERA. + +But those great coloured eyes, waxing and waning! Those moons of +pearl! The copper that turns to crimson, the turquoise that turns +to violet, the greenish, pointed head that swings and rolls its +yoke of slender plumage! Ah! Eros, is it possible that you do not +perceive that it is a symbol of my peacock, my bird translated +into the language of this narrow and suppressed existence of ours? +What a strange and exquisite messenger! My poor peacock, with a +strident shriek of terror, fled from me on that awful morning, the +flames singeing its dishevelled train, its wings helplessly +flapping in the torrents of conflagration. It bade me no adieu, its +clangour of despair rang forth, an additional note of discord, from +the inner courts of my palace. And out of its agony, of its horror, +it has contrived to send me this adorable renovation of itself, all +its grace and all its splendour reincarnated in this tiny creature. +But alas! how am I to capture, how to communicate with it? + +EROS. + +I hesitate to disturb your illusion, Hera. But you are singularly +mistaken. I have a far greater interest in this messenger than you +can have; and if you dream its presence to be a tribute to your +pride, I am much more tenderly certain that it is a reproach to my +affections. See, those needlessly gaudy wings,--a mere disguise to +bring it through the multitude of its enemies--are closed now, and +it resumes its pendulous attitude, as aërial as an evening cloud, +as graceful as sorrow itself, sable as the shadow of a leaf in the +moonlight. + +HERA. + +Whom do you suppose it to represent, Eros? + +EROS. + +"Represent" is an inadequate word. I know it to be, in some +transubstantiation, the exact nature of which I shall have to +investigate, my adored and injured Psyche. You never appreciated +her, Hera. + +HERA. + +It was necessary in such a society as ours to preserve the +hierarchical distinctions. She was a charming little creature, and +I never allowed myself to indulge in the violent prejudice of your +mother. When you presented her at last, I do not think that you +had any reason to reproach me with want of civility. + + [_The butterfly dances off._] + +HERA _and_ EROS _together_. + +It is gone. + + [_A pause._] + +HERA. + +We are in a curious dilemma. Unless we are to conceive that two +of the lesser Olympians have been able to combine in adopting a +symbolic disguise, either you or I have been deceived. That +tantalising visitant can scarcely have been at the same time Psyche +and my peacock. + +EROS. + +I know not why; and for my part am perfectly willing to recognise +its spots and moons to your satisfaction, if you will permit me to +recognise my own favourite in the garb of grief. + +HERA. + +My bird was ever a masquerader--it may be so. + +EROS. + +Psyche, also, was not unaccustomed to disguises. + +HERA. + +You take the recollection coolly, Eros. + +EROS. + +Would you have me shriek and moan? Would you have me throw myself +in convulsive ecstasy upon that ambiguous insect? You are not the +first, Hera, who has gravely misunderstood my character. I am +not, I have never been, a victim of the impulsive passions. The +only serious misunderstandings which I have ever had with my +illustrious mother have resulted from her lack of comprehension +of this fact. _She_ is impulsive, if you will! Her existence has +been a succession of centrifugal adventures, in which her sole +idea has been to hurl herself outward from the solitude of her +individuality. I, on the other hand, leave very rarely, and with +peculiar reluctance, the rock-crystal tower from which I watch +the world, myself unavoidable and unattainable. My arrows +penetrate every disguise, every species of physical and spiritual +armour, but they are not turned against my own heart. I have +always been graceful and inconspicuous in my attitudes. The image +of Eros, with contorted shoulders and projected elbows, aiming a +shaft at himself, is one which the Muse of Sculpture would +shudder to contemplate. + +HERA. + +Then what was the meaning of your apparent infatuation for Psyche? + +EROS. + +O do not call it "apparent." It was genuine and it was +all-absorbing. But it was absolutely exceptional. Looking back, it +seems to me that I must have been gazing at myself in a mirror, and +have dismissed an arrow before I realised who was the quarry. It is +not necessary to remind you of the circumstances---- + +HERA. + +You would, I suppose, describe them as exceptional? + +EROS. + +As wholly exceptional. And could I be expected to prolong an +ardour so foreign to my nature? The victim of passion cannot be +a contemplator at the same moment, and I may frankly admit to you, +Hera, that during the period of my infatuation for Psyche, there +were complaints from every province of the universe. It was said +that unless my attention could be in a measure diverted from that +admirable girl, there would be something like a stagnation of +general vitality. Phoebus remarked one day, that if the ploughman +became the plough the cessation of harvests would be inevitable. + +HERA. + +It was at that moment, I suppose, that you besought Zeus so +passionately to confer upon Psyche the rank of a goddess? + +EROS. + +You took that, no doubt, for an evidence of my intenser +infatuation. An error; it was a proof that the arguments of the +family were beginning to produce their effect upon me. I perceived +my responsibility, and I recognised that it was not the place of +the immortal organiser of languishment to be sighing himself. To +deify my lovely Psyche was to recognise her claim, and--and---- + +HERA. + +To give you a convenient excuse for neglecting her? + +EROS. + +It is that crudity of yours, Hera, which has before now made your +position in Olympus so untenable. You lack the art of elegant +insinuation. + +HERA. + +Am I then to believe that you were playing a part when you seemed +a little while ago so anxious to recognise Psyche in the drooping +butterfly? + +EROS. + +Oh! far from it. The sentiment of recognition was wholly genuine +and almost rapturously pleasurable. It is true that in the +confusion of our flight I had not been able to give a thought to +our friend, who was, unless I am much mistaken, absent from her +palace. Nor will I be so absurd as to pretend that I have, for a +long while past, felt at all keenly the desire for her company. She +has very little conversation. There are certain peculiarities of +manner, which---- + +HERA. + +I know exactly what you mean. My peacock has a very peculiar voice, +and---- + +EROS [_impatiently_]. + +You must permit me to protest against any comparison between Psyche +and your worthy bird. But I was going to say that the moment I +saw the brilliant little discrepancy which led us both to this +spot--and to which I hesitate to give a more definite name--I +was instantly and most pleasantly reminded of certain delightful +episodes, of a really charming interlude, if I may so call it. +I cannot be perfectly certain what connection our ebullient +high-flyer has with the goddess whose adorer I was and whose +friend I shall ever be. But the symbol--if it be no more than a +symbol--has been sufficient to awaken in me all that was most +enjoyable in our relations. I shall often wander in these woods, +among the cloud-like masses of odorous blossom, in this windless +harbour of sunlight and the murmur of leaves, in the hope of +finding the little visitant here. She will never fail to remind me, +but without disturbance, of all that was happiest in a series of +relations which grew at last not so wholly felicitous as they once +had been. One of the pleasures this condition of mortality offers +us, I foresee, is the perpetual recollection of what was delightful +in the one serious liaison of my life, and of nothing else. + +HERA. + +Aphrodite would charge you with cynicism, Eros. + +EROS. + +It would not be the first time that she has mistaken my philosophy +for petulance. + + + + +VIII + + +[_On the terrace beside the house are seated_ PERSEPHONE, MAIA, + _and_ CHLORIS. _The afternoon is rapidly waning, and lights are + seen to twinkle on the farther shore of the sea. As the twilight + deepens, from just out of sight a man's voice is heard singing + as follows_:] + + _As I lay on the grass, with the sun in the west, + A woman went by me, a babe at her breast; + She kissed it and pressed it, + She cooed, she caressed it, + Then rocked it to sleep in her elbow-nest._ + + _She rocked it to rest with a sad little song, + How the days were grown short, and the nights grown long; + How love was a rover, + How summer was over, + How the winds of winter were shrill and strong._ + + _We must haste, she sang, while the sky is bright, + While the paths are plain and the town's in sight, + Lest the shadows that watch us + Should creep up and catch us, + For the dead walk here in the grass at night._ + + [_The voice withdraws farther down the woods, but from a lower + distance, in the clear evening, the last stanza is heard repeated. + The_ GODDESSES _continue silent, until the voice has died away_.] + +CHLORIS. + +Rude words set to rude music; but they seem to penetrate to the +very core of the heart. + +MAIA. + +Are you sad to-night, Chloris? + +CHLORIS. + +Not sad, precisely; but anxious, feverish, a little excited. + +PERSEPHONE. + +Hark! the song begins again. + + [_They listen, and from far away the words come faintly back:_ + +_For the dead walk here in the grass at night._] + +MAIA. + +The dead! Shall we see them? + +CHLORIS. + +Why not? These barbarians appear to avoid them with an invincible +terror, but why should we do so? + +MAIA. + +I do not feel that it would be possible for the dead to "catch" me, +since I should be instantly and keenly watching for them, and much +more eager to secure their presence than they could be to secure +mine. + +CHLORIS. + +We do not know of what we speak, for it may very well be that the +barbarians have some experience of these beings. Their influence +may be not merely malign, but disgusting. + +MAIA. + +How ignorant we are! + +CHLORIS. + +Surely, Persephone, you must be able to give us some idea of the +dead. Were they not the sole occupants of your pale dominions? + +PERSEPHONE. + +It is very absurd of me, but really I do not seem to recollect +anything about them. + +MAIA. + +I suppose you disliked living in Hades very much? + +PERSEPHONE. + +Well, I spent six months there every year, to please my husband. +But a great deal of my time was taken up in corresponding with my +mother. She was always nervous if she did not hear regularly from +me. I really feel quite ashamed of my inattention. + +MAIA. + +You don't even recall what the inhabitants of the country were +like? + +PERSEPHONE. + +I recollect that they seemed dreadfully wanting in vitality. They +came in troops when I held a reception; they swept by.... I cannot +remember what they were like---- + +CHLORIS. + +It must have been dreary for you there, Persephone. + +PERSEPHONE. + +Well, we had our own interests. I believe I did my duty. It seemed +to me that I must be there if Pluto wished it, and I was pleased +to be with him. But--if you can understand me--there was a sort of +a dimness over everything, and I never entered into the political +life of the place. As to the social life, you can imagine that +they were not people that one cared to know. At the same time, +of course, I feel now how ridiculous it was of me to hold that +position and not take more interest. + +MAIA. + +Demeter, of course, never encouraged you to make any observation of +the manners and customs of Hades. + +PERSEPHONE. + +Oh, no! that was just it. She always said: "Pray don't let me hear +the least thing about the horrid place." You remember that she very +strongly disapproved of my going there at all---- + +CHLORIS. + +Yes; I remember that Arethusa, when she brought me back my +daffodils, told me how angry Demeter was---- + +PERSEPHONE. + +And yet she was quite nice to my husband when once Zeus had decided +that I had better go. + + [_There is a pause._ MAIA _rises and leans on the parapet, over the + woods, now drowned in twilight, to the sea, which still faintly + glitters. She turns and comes back to the other two, standing + above them._] + +MAIA. + +I, too, might have observed something as I went sailing over the +purpureal ocean. But I was always talking to my sisters. The fact +is we all of us neglected to learn anything about death. + +CHLORIS. + +We thought of it as of something happening in that world of Hades +which could never become of the slightest importance to us. Who +could have imagined that we should have to take it into practical +account? + +MAIA. + +Well, now we shall have to accept it, to be prepared for its +tremendous approach. + +CHLORIS [_after a pause_]. + +Perhaps this famous "death" may prove after all to be only another +kind of life. [_Rising and approaching_ MAIA.] Don't you think this +is indicated even by the song of these barbarians? Besides, our +stay here must be the ante-chamber to something wholly different. + +MAIA. + +We can hardly suppose that it can lead to nothing. + +CHLORIS. + +No; surely we shall put off more or less leisurely, with dignity or +without it, the garments of our sensuous existence, and discover +something underneath all these textures of the body? + +PERSEPHONE. + +One of our priests in Hades, I do remember, sang that silence was +a voice, and declared that even in the deserts of immensity the soul +was stunned and deafened by the chorus and anti-chorus of nature. + +CHLORIS. + +What did he mean? What is the soul? + +MAIA. + +I must confess that in this our humility, our corporeal +degradation, instead of feeling crushed, I am curiously conscious +of a wider range of sensibility. Perhaps that is the soul? Perhaps, +in the suppression of our immortality, something metallic, +something hermetical, has been broken down, and already we stand +more easily exposed to the influences of the spirit? + +CHLORIS. + +In that case, to slough the sheaths of the body, one by one, ought +to be to come nearer to the final freedom, and the last coronation +and consecration of existence may prove to be this very "death" we +dread so much. + +PERSEPHONE. + +I can fancy that such conjectures as these may prove to be one of +the chief sources of satisfaction in this new mortality of ours: +the variegated play of light and shadow thrown upon it. Well, the +less we know and see, the more exciting it ought to be to guess +and to peer. + +MAIA. + +And some of us, depend upon it, will be able to persuade ourselves +that we alone can use our eyesight in the pitch profundity of +darkness, and these will find a peculiar pleasure in tormenting +the others who have less confidence in their imagination. + + [_They seat themselves, and are silent. Far away is once more + faintly heard the song, and then it dies away. A long + silence. Then, a confused hum of cries and voices is heard, + and approaches the terrace from below. The Goddesses start + to their feet. From the left appear_ SILVANUS, ALCYONE _and_ + FAUNA, _bearing the body of_ CYDIPPE, _which they place very + carefully on the grass in front of the scene_.] + +CHLORIS [_in an excited whisper_]. + +Is this our first experience of the mystery? + +FAUNA _and_ ALCYONE. + +She is dead! She is dead! + +MAIA. + +The first of the immortals to succumb to the burden of mortality! + +SILVANUS. + +Where is Æsculapius? Call him, call him! + +MAIA. + +He cannot bring back the dead. + +PERSEPHONE. + +What has happened? Cydippe is livid, her limbs are stark, her +eyes are wide open, and motionless, and unnaturally brilliant. + +SILVANUS [_to_ CHLORIS]. + +She was gathering a little posy of your wild flowers--eyebright, +and crane's bills and small blue pansies, when---- + +FAUNA. + +There glided out of the intertwisted fibres of the blue-berries +a serpent---- + +ALCYONE. + +Grey, with black arrows down the spine, and a flat, diabolical +head---- + +FAUNA. + +And Cydippe never saw it, and stretched out her hand again, +and--see---- + +SILVANUS. + +The viper fixed his fangs here, in the blue division of the vein, +here in her translucent wrist. See, it swells, it darkens! + +FAUNA. + +And with a scream she fell, and swooned away, and died, turning +backwards, so that her hair caught in the springy herbage, and her +head rolled a little in her pain, so that her hair was loosened and +tightened, and look, there are still little tufts of blue-berry +leaves in her hair. + +SILVANUS. + +But here comes Æsculapius. + + [_They all greet_ ÆSCULAPIUS, _who enters from the left, with + his basket of remedies_.] + +PERSEPHONE. + +Ah! sage master of simples, this is a problem beyond thy solution, +a case beyond thy cure. + +ÆSCULAPIUS [_to the goddesses_]. + +You think that Cydippe is dead? + +MAIA. + +Unquestionably. The savage viper has slain her. + +ÆSCULAPIUS. + +Then prepare to behold what should seem a greater miracle to you +than to me. But, first, Silvanus, bind a strip of clothing very +tightly round the upper part of her arm, for no more than we can +help of those treasonable messengers must fly posting from the +wound to Cydippe's heart. + +PERSEPHONE [_sententiously_]. + +It can receive no more such messages. + +ÆSCULAPIUS. + +I think you are mistaken. And now, Fauna, a few drops of water +in this cup from the trickling spring yonder. That is well. Stand +farther away from Cydippe, all of you. + +PERSEPHONE. + +What are those pure white needles you drop into the water? How +quickly they dissolve. Ah! he lays the mixture to Cydippe's wound. +She sighs; her eyelids close; her heart is beating. What is this +magic, Æsculapius? + +ÆSCULAPIUS. + +Do not tell your husband, Persephone, or he will complain to Zeus +that I am depriving him of his population. But if there is magic +in this, there is no miracle. [_To the others._] Take her softly +into the house and lay her down. She will take a long sleep, and +will wake at the end of it with no trace of the poison or +recollection of her suffering. + + [_They carry_ CYDIPPE _forth_. PERSEPHONE, MAIA, _and_ + ÆSCULAPIUS _remain_.] + +MAIA. + +Then--she was not dead? + +ÆSCULAPIUS. + +No; it was but the poison-swoon, which precedes death, if it be +not arrested. + +MAIA. + +How rejoiced I am! + +PERSEPHONE. + +One would say your joy had disappointed you. + +MAIA. + +No, indeed, for I am attached to Cydippe, but oh! Persephone, it +is strange to be at the very threshold of the mystery---- + +PERSEPHONE. + +And to have the opening door shut in our faces? Perhaps ... next +time ... they may not be able to find Æsculapius. + + + + +IX + + +[_The terrace, as in the first scene_; ZEUS _enters from the house, + conducted by_ HEBE _and several of the lesser divinities_.] + +HEBE. + +Will your Majesty be pleased to descend to the lower boskage? + +ZEUS. + +No! Place my throne here, out of the wind, in the sun, which seems +to have very little fire left in it, but some pleasant light still. +The sea down there is bright again to-day; the carrying of our +unfortunate person upon its surface was probably the source of +immense alarm to it. It quaked and blackened continuously. Now we +are removed, it regains something of its normal quiescence. I trust +that the land hereabouts is dowered with a less painful +susceptibility. + +GANYMEDE. + +A priest, sire, the only one who saved his musical instrument +through our calamities, stands within. Is your Majesty disposed to +be sung to? + +ZEUS. + +No, certainly not. Which is he? [_The_ PRIEST _is pointed out_.] +What an odd-looking person! Yes, he may give me a specimen of his +art--a short one. + + [_The_ PRIEST _comes forward; he is dressed in wild Thessalian + raiment. He approaches with uncouth gestures, and a mixture + of servility and self-consciousness. On receiving a nod + from_ ZEUS, _he tunes his instrument and sings as follows_:] + + _Wild swans winging + Through the blue, + Spiders springing + To a clue, + Till the sparkling drops renew + All that ever + Youth's endeavour + Had determined to undo. + White and blue are hoards of treasure, + For the panting hands of pleasure + To go dropping, dropping, dropping, + Without measure + Through and through._ + +ZEUS. + +Very pretty, I must say. Would you repeat it again? + +[PRIEST _repeats it again_.] + +ZEUS. + +What does it ... exactly _mean_? I think it quite pretty, you +understand. + +PRIEST. + +Does your Majesty receive any impression from it? + +ZEUS. + +Well, I don't know that I could precisely parse it. But it is very +pretty. Yes, I think I gain a certain impression from it. + +PRIEST. + +Do you not feel, sire, a peculiar sense of flush, of spring-tide--a +direct juvenile ebullience? + +ZEUS. + +Ah, no doubt, no doubt. And a kind of nostalgia, or harking-back to +happier days, a sense of their rapid passage, and their +irrecoverability. Is that right? + +PRIEST. + +It is a positive divination! + +ZEUS. + +I am conscious of the agreeable recollection of an incident---- + +PRIEST [_with rapture_]. + +Ah!---- + +ZEUS. + +A little event?---- + +PRIEST. + +You make my heart beat so high, sire, that I can hardly speak. +Deign, sire, to recall that incident. + +ZEUS [_with extreme affability_]. + +It was hardly an incident.... I merely happened, while you were +reciting your song, to remember an occasion on which--on which +Iris, at the rampart of our golden wall, bending back, was caught +by the wind, and--and the contours were delicious. + +PRIEST. + +Oh! the word, the word! + +ZEUS [_with slight hauteur_]. + +I do not follow you. Her rainbow---- + +PRIEST. + +Ah! yes, sire, the rainbow, the rainbow! O what an art of +incontestable divination! + +ZEUS [_much animated_]. + +But you did not say anything about a rainbow, nor describe one, +nor ever mention the elements of such a bow. + +PRIEST. + +Ah! no, sire. That is the art of the New Poetry. It names nothing, +it describes nothing. All that it designs to do is to place the +mind of the listener--of the august and perspicacious listener--in +such an attitude as that the unnamed, the undescribed object rises +full in vision. The poet flings forth his melody, and to the gross +ear it seems a mere tinkle of inanity. That is simply because the +crowd who worship at the shrine of the Sminthean Apollo have been +accustomed by an old-fashioned and ridiculously incompetent +priesthood to look for an instant and mechanical relation between +sound and sense. I would not exaggerate, sire; but the kind of +poetry lately cultivated, not only at Delphi, but in Delos also, +is simply obsolete. + +ZEUS [_suspiciously_]. + +Again I am not sure that I quite follow you. + +PRIEST. + +To your Majesty, at least, the New Poetry opens its casket as +widely as the rose-bud does to the zephyr. + +ZEUS. + +I can follow that--but it rather reminds me of the Old Poetry. + +PRIEST. + +It was intended to do so. What promptitude of mind! What divine +penetration! + +ZEUS [_affably_]. + +I have always believed that if I had enjoyed leisure from public +life, I should have excelled in my judgment of the fine arts. [_To +the_ PRIEST, _with gravity_.] You are a gifted young man. Be sure +that you employ your talents with discretion. Such an intellect as +yours carries responsibility with it. I shall be quite pleased to +permit you to recite "The Rainbow" to me again. [_The_ PRIEST +_prepares to recite it_.] + +ZEUS. + +Oh, not now! Some other time! [_Graciously dismisses the_ PRIEST.] + +ZEUS [_after a long pause_]. + +The attitude of my family, in these ambiguous circumstances, +is everything that could be desired. My original feeling of +irritability has passed away. I should have supposed it to be +what Pallas calls "fatigue," a confusion or discord of the +nerve-centres, which she tells me is incident to mortality. +What Pallas can possibly know about it is more than I can guess, +especially, as there were not infrequent occasions on Olympus +itself on which my Supreme Godhead was disturbed by flashes of +what I should be forced to describe as exasperation, states of +mind in which I formed--and indeed executed--the sudden project +of breaking something. These were, I believe, simply the result +of an excessive sense of responsibility. I am not one of those +who conceive that the duty of deity is to sit passive beside the +cup of nectar. Here on this island, in the permanent absence of +that refreshment, I reflect (I perceive that I shall have very +frequent opportunities for reflection) that I was perhaps only +too anxious to preserve the harmony of heaven. My sense of +decorum--may it not have been excessive? From below, as I +imagine, from the stations occupied--I will not say by the +inanimate or half-animate creation, such as insects, or men, or +minerals--but by the demi-gods, I take it that the dignity and +orbic beauty of our court appeared sublimely immaculate. In the +inner circle, alas! no one knows better than I do that there +were--well, dissensions. I will go further, in candour to myself, +and admit that these occasionally led to excesses. I cannot +charge my recollection with my having done anything to excuse +or encourage these. The personal conduct of the Sovereign +was always, I cannot but believe, above reproach. But the +eccentricities--if I may style them so--of certain of my children +were sometimes regrettable. I wonder that they did not age me; +they would do so immediately in my present condition. But in this +island, where we are to swarm like animalcules in a drop of +water, I shall be relieved of all responsibility. Where there +is no one to notice that errors are committed, no errors _are_ +committed. As the person of most experience in the whole world, +I do not mind stating my ripe opinion that a fault which has no +effect upon political conditions is in no sensible degree a fault +at all. Pallas would contend the point, I suppose, but I am at +ease. I shall not allow the conduct of my children, except as it +shall regard myself, to affect my good-humour in the slightest +degree. + + [PHOEBUS _enters, slowly pacing across the terrace_.] + +ZEUS. + +Your planet seems to have recovered something of its tone, +Phoebus. + +PHOEBUS. + +If, father, you regard--as you have every right to do--your +venerable person as the centre of my interests, I rejoice to allow +that this seems to be the case. + +ZEUS [_with a touch of reserve_]. + +I meant that the sun shows a tendency to return to its forgotten +orbit. It is quite warm here out of the wind. [_More genially._] +But as to myself, I admit a great recovery in my spirits. I have +given up fretting for Iris, who was certainly lost on our way here, +and Pallas has been showing me a curious little jewel she brought +with her, which has created in me a kind of wistful cheeriness. I +do not remember to have experienced anything of the kind before. + +PHOEBUS. + +I declare I believe that you will adapt yourself as well as the +rest of us to this anomalous existence. + +ZEUS. + +We shall see; and I shall have so much time now, that I may +even--what I am sure ought to gratify you, Phoebus,--be able to +give my attention to the fine arts. A fallen monarch can always +defy adversity by forming a collection of curiosities. + +PHOEBUS. + +If you make the gem of which Pallas is so proud the nucleus of +your cabinet, I feel convinced that it will give you lasting +satisfaction. And we are so poor now that it can never be complete, +and therefore never become tiresome. But what was it that the +oracle of Nemea amused and puzzled us by saying, "To form a +collection is well, yet to take a walk is better"? I will attend +your Majesty to your apartments, and then wander in these extensive +woods. + + [_Exeunt._ + + + + +X + + + [_A dell below the house, with a white poplar-tree growing + alone. Under it_ HERACLES _sits, in an attitude of deep + dejection, his club fallen at his feet, a horn empty at + his side. To him enters_ EROS.] + +EROS. + +I have been congratulating our friends on their surpassing +cheerfulness. Even Zeus is displaying a marvellous longanimity in +his adverse state, and Pallas is positively frivolous. We must have +disembarked, however, upon the island of Paradox, for everything +goes by contraries; here I find you, Heracles, commonly so serene +and uplifted, sunken in the pit of depression. You should squeeze +the breath out of your melancholy, as you did out of Hera's snakes +so long ago. + +HERACLES. + +That was a foolish tale. Do you not recollect that I am not as the +rest of you? + +EROS. + +Come, man, brighten up! You look as sulky as you did when I broke +your bow and arrows, and set Aphrodite laughing at you. But I have +learned manners, and the goddesses only smile now. Cheer up! How is +your destiny a whit different from ours? + +HERACLES. + +That rude old story about Alcmena, Eros--it is impossible that you +can be the dupe of that? When I hunted lions on Cithaeron--that +really _was_ a gentlemanlike sport, my friend--when I hunted lions +I was not a god. Gods don't hunt lions, Eros; I have not gone +a-hunting since that curious affair on Mount OEta. You remember it? + +EROS. + +I have preferred to forget it. + +HERACLES. + +Only an immortal can afford wilfully to forget, and I--well, you +know as well as I do that I am only a mortal canonised. I never +understood the incident, I confess. I lay down among the ferns +to sleep, after an unusually heavy day's bag of monsters. It was +sultry weather; I woke to an oppressive sense of singeing, I found +myself enveloped in a blaze of leaves and brushwood.... But I bore +you, and what does it matter now? What does anything matter? + +EROS. + +No, no; pray continue! I am excessively interested. You throw a +light on something that has always puzzled me, something that---- + +HERACLES. + +A dense black smoke blinded and numbed me. The next moment, as it +seemed--perhaps it was the next day--I was hustled up through the +æther to Olympus, and dumped down at the foot of Zeus' throne. +Perhaps you remember? + +EROS. + +Yes, for I was there. + +HERACLES. + +All of you were there. And Zeus came down and took me by the +wrist. Olympus rang with shouts and the clapping of hands. I was +hailed with unanimity as an immortal; the ambrosia melted between +my charred lips; I rose up amongst you all, immaculate and fresh. +But when, or how, or wherefore I have never known. And now I shall +never care to know. + +EROS. + +You are a strange mixture, Heracles; strangely contradictory. You +never quailed before any scaly horror, you never spared a truculent +robber or a noisome beast, nor avoided a laborious act---- + +HERACLES. + +These might be quoted, I should have thought, as instances of my +consistency. + +EROS. + +Yes, but then (you must really forgive me) your weakness in the +matter of Omphale did seem, to those who knew you not, like want +of self-respect. I have the reputation of shrinking, in the pursuit +of pleasure, from no fantastic disguise, but I never sat spinning +in the garments of a servant-maid. You must have looked a strange +daughter of the plough, Heracles. I blush for you to think of it. + +HERACLES. + +It was odd, certainly. Yet if _you_ cannot comprehend it, Eros, I +despair of explaining it to anybody. I should never do it again. +You must admit I showed no want of firmness afterwards in dealing +with Hebe, but then, she never interested me. Is she here? But do +not reply, I am not anxious to learn. + +EROS. + +Your dejection passes beyond all bounds. You cannot have been +shown the singularly cheerful little jewel which Pallas has brought +with her? It raises every one's spirits. + +HERACLES. + +It will not raise mine; for all of you, Eros, have been immortals +from the beginning, and your mortality is a new and pungent flavour +on the moral palate. But the taste of it was known of old to me, +and I am not its dupe. It simply carries me back to the ancient +weary round of ceaseless struggle, unending battle, incessant +renascence of the sprouting heads of Hydra; to all that from which +the windless Olympus was a refuge. Hope is presented--to one who +has tasted it and who knows that it is futile--without reawakening, +under such new conditions as we have here, any zest of adventure. +The jewel of Pandora may be exhilarating to fallen immortality; +it has no lustre whatever for a backsliding mortal. + + [_Sounds of laughter are heard, and steps ascending from the + shore._] + +EROS [_to_ HERACLES]. + +Draw your lion's skin about you less negligently, Heracles; I hear +visitants approaching. You are not in the woodways of OEta. + + [_The_ OCEANIDES _rush in from the lower woodlands. They are + carrying torches, and arrive in a condition of the highest + exhilaration._ EROS _proceeds a step or two to meet them, with + a smile and a mock reverence_. HERACLES, _brooding over his + knees, does not even raise his eyes at their clamorous entry_.] + +EROS. + +Are you proceeding to set our Father Zeus on fire, or do you intend +to repeat on our unwilling Heracles the rites of canonisation? +Have a care with those absurd flambeaux; you will put all the +underwood aflame. What are you doing with torches? + +AMPHITRITE. + +It was Hephæstus who gave them to us to hold. He is in a cave down +there by the sea, making the most ingenious things in the darkness. +He called us in to hold these lights---- + +DORIS. + +And oh, Eros, we had such fun, teasing him---- + +PITHO. + +He was quite angry at last---- + +AMPHITRITE. + +And threatened to nail us to the cliff---- + +PITHO. + +And off we ran, and left him in the dark. + +DORIS. + +He is coming after us. I never felt so frightened. + +AMPHITRITE. + +I never enjoyed myself anywhere so much. + +PITHO. + +Come away, come away! If he is going to pursue, let us give him +a long chase, and leave him panting at last! + + [_The_ OCEANIDES _escape, in a tumult of laughter, through the + upper woods, as_ HEPHÆSTUS, _limping heavily, and much out + of breath, appears from below_.] + +HEPHÆSTUS + +The rogues, the rogues! + +EROS. + +What a cataract of animal spirits! I am afraid, Hephæstus, that +you do not escape, even here, from the echoes of the laughter of +heaven. + +HERACLES [_savagely_]. + +Follow them, and strike them down. Take my club, Hephæstus, if +you have lost your hammer. + +HEPHÆSTUS. + +Strike them! Strike the darling rogues? I would as soon wrap your +too-celebrated tunic about a little playful marmozet. What is the +matter with you, Heracles? + +HERACLES. + +What change, indeed, has come over _you_, you sulky artificer? +Time was when your pincers would have met in the flesh of maid or +man who disturbed you in your work. Have you left your forge to +cool for the mere pleasure of clambering after these ridiculous +children! Go back to it, Hephæstus, go back and be ashamed. + +HEPHÆSTUS. + +You do not seem deeply engaged yourself. You look sourer and idler +than the lion's head that dangles at your shoulder. The days are +long here, though not too long. My handicraft will spare me for +half an hour to sport with these exquisite and affable fragilities. +I rather enjoy being laughed at. On Olympus I was rarely troubled +by such teasing attentions. The little ones seem to enjoy +themselves in their exile, and, to say true, so do I. My work +was carried on, I admit, much more smoothly and surely than it +can be here, and my hand, I am afraid, in crossing the sea, has +lost much of its infallible cunning. But I enjoy the exercise, +and I look onward to the art as I never did before, and I seem +to have more leisure. Can you explain it, Eros? + +EROS. + +I do not attempt to do so, but I feel a similar and equally +surprising serenity. Heracles is insensible to it, it seems, and +he gives me a sort of reason. + +HEPHÆSTUS. + +What is it? + +EROS. + +Well ... I am not sure that.... Perhaps I ought to leave him to +explain it. + +HERACLES. + +You would not be able to comprehend me. I am not sure that I +myself---- + + [_Two of the_ OCEANIDES _re-enter, much more seriously than + before, and with an eager importance of gesture_.] + +AMPHITRITE. + +We are not playing now. We have a message from Zeus, Hephæstus. He +says that he is waiting impatiently for the sceptre you are making +for him. + +DORIS. + +Yes, you must hurry back to your cave. And we are longing to see +what ornament you are putting on the sceptre. Let us come with +you. We will hold the torches for you as steadily as if we were +made of marble. + +HEPHÆSTUS. + +Come, then, come. Let us descend together. I hope that my science +has not quitted me. We will see whether even on this rugged shore +and with these uncouth instruments, I cannot prove to Zeus that I +am still an artist. Come, I am in a hurry to begin. Give me your +hands, Amphitrite and Doris. + + [_Exeunt._ + + + + +XI + + +[_The glen, through which the stream, slightly flooded by a night's + rain, runs faintly turbid._ DIONYSUS, _earnestly engaged in + angling, does not hear the approach of_ ÆSCULAPIUS.] + +ÆSCULAPIUS [_in a high, voluble key_]. + +It is not to me but to you, O ruddy son of Semele, that the crowds +of invalids will throng, if you cultivate this piscatory art so +eagerly, since to do nothing, serenely, in the open air, without +becoming fatigued, is to storm the very citadel of ill-health, +and---- + +DIONYSUS [_testily, without turning round_]. + +Hush! hush!... I felt a nibble. + +ÆSCULAPIUS [_in a whisper, flinging himself upon the grass_]. + +It was in such a secluded spot as this that Apollo heard the trout +at Aroanius sing like thrushes. + +DIONYSUS. + +How these poets exaggerate! The trout sang, I suppose, like the +missel-thrush. + +ÆSCULAPIUS. + +What song has the missel-thrush? + +DIONYSUS. + +It does not sing at all. Nor do trout. + +ÆSCULAPIUS. + +You are sententious, Dionysus. + +DIONYSUS. + +No, but closely occupied. I am intent on the subtle movements of my +rod, round which my thoughts and fancies wind and blossom till they +have made a thyrsus of it. Now, however, I shall certainly catch no +more fish, and so I may rest and talk to you. Are you searching for +simples in this glen? + +ÆSCULAPIUS. + +To tell you the plain truth, I am waiting for Nike. She has given +me an appointment here. + +DIONYSUS. + +I have not seen her since we arrived on this island. + +ÆSCULAPIUS. + +You have seen her, but you have not recognised her. She goes about +in a perpetual incognito. Poor thing, in our flight from Olympus +she lost all her attributes--her wings dropped off, her laurel was +burned, she flung her armour away, and her palm-tree obstinately +refused to up-root itself. + +DIONYSUS. + +No doubt at this moment it is obsequiously rustling over the odious +usurper. + +ÆSCULAPIUS. + +It was always rather a poor palm-tree. What Nike misses most are +her wings. She was excessively dejected when we first arrived, but +Pallas very kindly allowed her to take care of the jewel for half +an hour. Nike--if still hardly recognisable--is no longer to be +taken for Niobe. + +DIONYSUS [_rising to his feet_]. + +I shall do well, however, to go before she comes. + +ÆSCULAPIUS. + +By no means. I should prefer your staying. Nike will prefer it, +too. In the old days she always liked you to be her harbinger. + +DIONYSUS. + +Not always; sometimes my panthers turned and bit her. But my +panthers and my vines are gone to keep her laurels and her +palm-tree company. I think I will not stay, Æsculapius. But what +does Nike want with you? + + [_Slowly and pensively descending from the upper woods_, NIKE + _enters_.] + +DIONYSUS. + +I was excusing myself, Nike, to our learned friend here for not +having paid my addresses to you earlier. You must have thought me +negligent? + +NIKE. + +Oh! Dionysus, I assure you it is not so. Your temperament is one of +violent extremes--you are either sparkling with miraculous rapidity +of apprehension, or you are sunken in a heavy doze. These have +doubtless been some of your sleepy days. And I ... oh! I am very +deeply changed. + +DIONYSUS. + +No, not at all. Hardly at all. [_He scarcely glances at her, but +turns to_ ÆSCULAPIUS.] But farewell to both of you, for I am going +down to the sea-board to watch for dolphins. That long melancholy +plunge of the black snout thrills me with pleasure. It always did, +and the coast-line here curiously reminds me of Naxos. Be kind to +Æsculapius, Nike. + + [_He descends along the water-course, and exit._ NIKE _smiles + sadly, and half holds out her arms towards_ ÆSCULAPIUS.] + +NIKE. + +It is for you, O brother of Hermes, to be kind to _me_. How altered +we all are! Dionysus is not himself.... As I came here, I passed +below the little grey precipice of limestone---- + +ÆSCULAPIUS. + +Where the marchantias grow? Yes? + +NIKE. + +And three girls in white dresses, with wreaths of flowers on their +shoulders, were laughing and chatting there in the shade of the +great yew-tree. Who do you suppose they were, these laughing girls +in white? + +ÆSCULAPIUS. + +Perhaps three of the Oceanides, bright as the pure foam of the wave? + +NIKE. + +Æsculapius, they were not girls. They were the terrible and ancient +Eumenides, black with the curdled blood of Uranus. They were the +inexorable Furies, who were wont to fawn about my feet, with the +adders quivering in their tresses, tormenting me for the spoils +of victory. What does it mean? Why are they in white? As we came +hither in the dreadful vessel, they were huddled together at the +prow, and their long black raiment hung overboard and touched the +brine. They were mumbling and crooning hate-songs, and pointing +with skinny fingers to the portents in the sky. What is it that has +changed their mood? What is it that can have turned the robes of +the Eumenides white, and enamelled their wrinkled flesh with youth? + +ÆSCULAPIUS. + +Is it not because a like strange metamorphosis has invaded your own +nature that you have come to meet me here? + +NIKE [_after a pause_]. + +I am bewildered, but I am not unhappy. I come because the secrets +of life are known to you. I come because it was you whom Zeus sent +to watch over Cadmus and Harmonia when their dread and comfortable +change came over them. They were weary with grief and defeat, tired +of being for ever overwhelmed by the ever-mounting wave of mortal +fate. I am weary---- + +ÆSCULAPIUS [_slowly_]. + +Of what, Nike? Be true to yourself. Of what are you weary? + +NIKE. + +I come to you that you may tell. I know no better than the snake +knows when his skin withers and bloats. I feel distress, +apprehension, no pain, a little fear. + +ÆSCULAPIUS. + +You speak of Cadmus and Harmonia; but is not your case the opposite +of theirs? They were saved from defeat; is it not your unspoken hope +to be saved from victory, saved from what was your essential self? + +NIKE. + +Can it be so? I find, it is true, that I look back upon my rush +and blaze of battle with no real regret. What a vain thing it was, +the perpetual clash and resonance of a victory that no one could +withstand; the mockery that conquest must be to an immortal whom no +one can ever really oppose;--no veritable difficulty to overcome, +no genuine resistance to meet, nothing positively tussled with and +thrown, nothing but ghostly armies shrinking and melting a little +way in front of my advancing eagles! That can never happen again, +and even through the pang of losing my laurel and my wings, I did +not genuinely deplore it. Nothing but the sheer intoxication of my +immortality had kept me at the pitch. And now that it is gone, oh +wisest of the gods, it is for you to tell me how, in this mortal +state, I can remain happy and yet be _me_. + +ÆSCULAPIUS. + +You are on the high road to happiness; you see its towers over +the dust, for you dare to know yourself. + +NIKE. + +Myself, Æsculapius? + +ÆSCULAPIUS. + +Yes; you have that signal, that culminating courage. + +NIKE. + +But it is because I do _not_ know my way that I come to you. + +ÆSCULAPIUS. + +To recognise the way is one thing, it is much; but to recognise +yourself is infinitely more, and includes the way. + +NIKE. + +Ah! I see. I think I partly see. The element of real victory was +absent where no defeat could be. + +ÆSCULAPIUS [_eagerly_]. + +Dismal, sooty, raven-coloured robes of the Eumenides! + +NIKE. + +And it may be present even where no final conquest can ensue? + +ÆSCULAPIUS. + +Ah! how white they grow! How the serpents drop out of their +tresses. + +NIKE. + +I am feeling forward with my finger-tips, like a blind woman +searching.... And the real splendour of victory may consist in the +helpless mortal state; may blossom there, while it only budded in +our immortality? + +ÆSCULAPIUS. + +May consist, really, of the effort, the desire, the act of +gathering up the will to make the plunge. This will be victory +now, it will be the drawing of the bow-string and not the mere +cessation of the arrow-flight. + + + + +XII + + + [_The main terrace, soon after dawn. In the centre_ ZEUS _sits + alone, throned and silent. One by one the Gods come out of + the house, and arrange themselves in a semicircle, to the + left and right, each as he passes making obeisance to_ ZEUS. + _It is a perfectly still morning, and a dense white mist + hangs over the woods, completely hiding the sea and the + farther shore. When all are seated._] + +ZEUS [_in a very slow voice_]. + +My children, since we came here I have not been visited until +to-night by even a shadow of those forebodings which, in the form +of divine prescience, illuminated my plans and your fortunes in +Olympus. [_A pause, while the gods lean towards him in deepest +attention._] But a dream came close to my pillow last night and +whispered to me strange, disquieting words.... I have no longer the +art of clairvoyance, but I find I am not wholly dark. Still can I +faintly divine the forms of the future, as we may all divine the +roll of the woods before us, and the cleft which leads down to the +shore, although this impalpable vapour shrouds our world.... And, +from the dream, or from my faint perceptions, I am made aware that +another mighty change is approaching us. + + [_A silence._] + +HERACLES. + +Can you indicate to us the nature of this change? [_Looking round +the semicircle._] If it is permitted to us to do so we would +repudiate it. [_The gods in silence signify their assent._] + +ZEUS [_not replying to_ HERACLES]. + +When we fled hither from the consuming malignity of the traitor, +it was communicated to me that this island on the very uttermost +border of the world was left us as a home from which we should +never be dislodged. Here we were to dwell in peace, and here ... to +grow old, and ... die. Here, in the meantime, new interests, humble +wishes, cheerful curiosities have already twined about us, and we +have gazed upon Pandora's jewel, and are no more the same. + +PERSEPHONE. + +Are we to be driven hence still farther towards the confines of +immensity, father? + +ZEUS. + +I know not. + +KRONOS. + +More journeys, more weary, weary journeys? + +ZEUS. + +I know but what I tell you ... that I foresee a change. [_A +silence._] How breathless is the air. Not the outline of a leaf is +shaken against the sky. + +PHOEBUS. + +But the mist grows thinner, and high up in it I see a faint +blueness. + +ZEUS. + +I do not--nothing but the bewildering woolly whiteness, that chills +my eyeballs.... [_With a sudden vivacity._] Ah! yes ... it is the +sea! Is Poseidon here? + +POSEIDON. + +I went down to the shore very early indeed this morning, before +there was an atom of mist in the air. I called upon the glassy, +oily sea, and I could not but fancy that, although there was little +motion in the wave, it did roll faintly to my foot, and fawn at me +in its reply. To me also, father, it seemed as though my element +was burdened with a secret which it knew not how to convey to me. + +[_A silence._] + +APHRODITE [_aside to_ PALLAS]. + +If we must be driven forth again, let us at least cling to such +new gifts as we have secured here. + +PALLAS [_in an eager whisper_]. + +I should like to know what you consider them to be. Do you hold +introspection as one of them? + +APHRODITE. + +I certainly do. The analysis of one's own feelings, and the sense +of watching the fluctuating symptoms of one's individuality, form +one of the principal consolations of our mortal state. + +PALLAS. + +I think I should give it another name. + +HERMES [_who has come up behind them, and bending forward has + overheard the conversation_]. + +My name for it would be the indulgence of personal vanity. + +APHRODITE [_speaks louder, while the conversation becomes general, + except that_ ZEUS _takes no part in it_]. + +You may call it so, if you please, but it is a source of genuine +pleasure to us. + +PHOEBUS. + +Ignorance is doubtless another of these consolations--ignorance +chemically modified by a few drops of the desire for knowledge.... +[_Enthusiastically._] And all the chastened forms of recollection, +how delightful they are, and how they add to our satisfaction here! + +NIKE. + +It would be interesting to me to understand what you mean by +chastened forms of recollection. I don't think that is my +experience. + +PALLAS. + +I conceive memory as a pure, unbiased emotion, an image of past +life cast upon an unflawed mirror. Why do you say "chastened"? + +PHOEBUS. + +That memory which is nothing but a plain reproduction on the mirror +of the mind is a tame concern, Pallas. It transfers, without +modification, all that is dull, and squalid, and unessential. The +only memory which is worthy of those who have tasted immortality is +that which has in some degree been fortified. To recollect with +enjoyment is to select certain salient facts from an experience and +to be oblivious of the rest; or else it is to heighten the exciting +elements of an event out of all proportion with historic fact; or +it even is to place what should be in the seat of what precisely +was.... But this must be done firmly, logically, with no timidity +in reminiscence, so that the mind shall rest in a perfectly +artistic conviction that what it recollects is all the truth and +nothing but the truth. This is chastened, or, if you prefer it, +civilised memory. But Zeus is about to speak. + + [_The Gods resume their seats in silence._ ZEUS _rises from his + throne, and the Gods perceive that the mist has now almost + entirely evaporated around them, and that the entire scene + is luminous with morning radiance. All the Gods lean forward + to gaze on_ ZEUS, _who gazes over and beyond them to the sea_.] + +ZEUS. + +The whole bay heaves in one vast wave of unbroken pearl.... And in +the east something flashes ... something moves ... approaches. + + [_All the Gods, except_ KRONOS _and_ RHEA, _rise and follow with + their gaze the extended hand of_ ZEUS. POSEIDON _steps forward + to the front of the scene and shouts_.] + +POSEIDON. + +See! Three huge white ships are coming out of the east, and the +waves glide away at their wake in widening glassy hues. How they +speed! How they speed, without oar or sail! + +KRONOS. + +No rest, no sleep for us. Leave us here behind you, Zeus. We never +have any rest. + +RHEA. + +Yes; do not drag us farther in the wearisome train of your +misfortunes. + +ZEUS [_benignly, turning to them._] + +Be not afraid, Rhea and Kronos. But we must not abandon you. For +the old sakes' sake we will hold together to the end. + +ARES. + +Shall we not collect our forces in unison, mortal as they are, +and die together in resisting this invasion? + +DIONYSUS. + +The kind barbarians are with us. They will fight at our side. + +HEPHÆSTUS. + +Yes, let us fight and die. + +ZEUS. + +You have no forces to collect, my sons. We cannot take toll of the +blood of the barbarians. We cannot resist, we can but submit and +withdraw.... The ships fleet closer. They are like monstrous fishes +of living silver. I confess this is not what I anticipated. This +is not what my faint dream seemed to indicate. What inspires the +implacable destroyer to pursue us, and with this imposing and +miraculous navy, to the shore of that harmless exile in which we +were endeavouring to forget his existence, I know not. But let us +at least preserve that dignity which has survived our deity. +Whatever may be now in store for us--if the worst of all things +be now hurrying to complete our annihilation--let us meet it with +simplicity. Let us meet it with an even mind. + +CIRCE. + +Oh, see! what are those filaments of blue and violet and grassy +green which flutter in the cordage of the three ships? + +PHOEBUS. + +They leap forward, though no wind is blowing. + +CIRCE. + +They are arranged in order, and they bend upwards and now outwards. + +HERA. + +The colours of them are those which adorn my bird. + +PALLAS. + +Ah! wonder of wonders! These have joined one another, see, and now +they shoot forward together in a vibrating ribband of delicious +lustre, and now it is arched to our shore, and descends at the +lowest of these our woodland stairs. + +ZEUS. + +A vast rainbow from the three white vessels to this island!... And +behold, a figure steps from it. She is robed to the feet in palest +watchet blue, and her face is like a rosy star, and she waves her +violet wings in the incommunicable speed of her ascent. My +children, it is Iris, our lost daughter, our ineffable messenger. +Let us await in silence the tidings which she brings. + + [ZEUS _seats himself, and the Gods take their places as before. + The air is now translucent, the sky cloudless, while the + beechwoods flash with the lustre of dew, and the sea beyond + the white ships is like a floor of turquoise._ IRIS _is seen + to rise from the shore, through the gorge in the woods. She + approaches, half flying, half climbing, with incredible + velocity. She appears, in her splendour, at the top of the + stairs, and looks round upon the Gods. Without exception, in + the magnificence of her presence they look grey and old and + dim. She hesitates a moment, and then kneels before the + throne of_ ZEUS.] + +IRIS. + +Father and lawgiver! Imperial Master of Heaven! The rebellion in +Olympus is over. The usurper has fallen under the weight of his +own presumption, lower than the lowest chasms of Hades, chained for +all eternity by the fetters of his own insolence and madness. It +is not needful for you, Zeus, to punish or to be clement. Under +the inevitable rebound of his impious frenzy, himself has sealed +his doom for ever and ever. It is now for the Father of Heaven, and +these his children, to resume their immortality and to regain their +incomparable abodes. Be it my reward for the joyous labour of +bringing the good news, to be the first to kiss these awful and +eternal feet. + + [IRIS _flings herself before_ ZEUS _in adoration, and folds her + wings about her face. As she touches him, his deity blazes + forth from him. When_ IRIS _rises again, she glances round + at the Gods with gratified astonishment, for all of them + have become brilliant and young_.] + +ZEUS. + +Lead the way, Iris. This is no longer a place for us. Lead on and +we will follow. Lead on, that we may resume our immortality. + + [IRIS _flies down to the sea, and_ ZEUS _descends the steps. + He is followed by all the other deities._] + +CIRCE. + +Were we really happy among these trees? I can scarcely credit it, +they seem so common and so frail. + +NIKE. + +Ha, my palm and my laurel and my wings. How can I have breathed +without them for an hour? + +APHRODITE [_to_ EROS]. + +Shall we recollect this little episode when we walk up the golden +street presently to our houses? + +EROS. + +I cannot think so, mother. That refinement of memory of which +Phoebus was speaking will seem the most ridiculous of illusions +there. + +PHOEBUS. + +Yes; to cultivate illusion, to live in the past, to resuscitate +experience, may be the amusements of mortality, but they mean +nothing now to us. When Selene re-enters her orb, she will not +disquiet herself about the disorders of its interregnum. + +PALLAS [_hastily reascending_]. + +I have left Pandora's jewel behind me. I must fetch it. + +HERMES [_the last to descend_]. + +Let me confess that I took it from you. One of the barbarians was +weeping, and I wished, I cannot tell why, to see her smile. I gave +your jewel to her. + +PALLAS. + +It is of no moment. It would be an inconspicuous ornament in that +blaze of the heart's beauty to which the white ships are about to +carry us. + +HERMES. + +Come, then, Pallas, and let us linger here no more. + + [_They descend and disappear._] + + + + + THE END. + + + + +Printed by +BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO. +London & Edinburgh + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +Transcriber's Note + +Variant spellings in this ebook have been retained to match the +original document. + +The use of an ae-ligature in the name 'Hephæstus' has been +regularized. The oe-ligature is represented by 'oe' in the text +version of this ebook, and retains the oe-ligature in the HTML +version. Ellipses have been regularized. + +The original text contained duplicate headers for Acts; these +duplications have been omitted in this ebook. + +The following typographical corrections were made to this text: + + Page 16: Added missing period (EROS.) + + Page 16: Changed em-dash to long dash to match style of text + + Page 16: Changed casket to caskets (all the empty caskets) + + Page 28: Added missing comma (he answered, "Pray don't) + + Page 101: Changed 'o' to 'of' (It is kind of) + + Page 132: Added missing period (CHLORIS.) + + Page 140: Changed 'o' to 'of' (degradation, instead of) + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HYPOLYMPIA*** + + +******* This file should be named 28270-8.txt or 28270-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/8/2/7/28270 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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