The Twilight of the Gods, and Other Tales - Richard Garnett
Elenko sped back to bear tidings of the threatened collision to
Prometheus. As she approached his chamber she heard with astonishment two
voices in eager conversation, and discovered with still greater amazement
that their dialogue was carried on in Greek. The second speaker, moreover,
was evidently a female. A jealous pang shot through Elenko's breast; she
looked cautiously in, and discerned the same mysterious veiled woman whose
demeanour had already been an enigma to her. But the veil was thrown back,
and the countenance went far to allay Elenko's disquiet. It bore indeed
traces of past beauty, but was altogether that of one who had known better
days; worn and faded, weary and repining. Elenko's jealousy vanished,
though her surprise redoubled, when she heard Prometheus address the
stranger as "Sister."
"A pretty brother I have got," rejoined the lady, in high sharp tones: "to
leave me in want! Never once to inquire after me!"
"Nay, sister, or sister-in-law," responded Prometheus, "if it comes to
that, where were you while I was on Caucasus? The Oceanides ministered to
me, Hermes came now and then, even Hercules left a card; but I never saw
Pandora."
"How could I compromise Epimetheus, Prometheus?" demanded Pandora.
"Besides, my attendant Hope was always telling me that all would come
right, without any meddling of mine."
"Let her tell you so now," retorted Prometheus.
"Tell me now! Do you pretend not to know that the hussey forsook Olympus
ten years ago, and has turned Christian?"
"I am sure I am very sorry to hear it. Somehow, she never forsook _me_. I
can't imagine how you Gods get on without her."
"Get on! We are getting off. Except Eros and Plutus, who seem as usual, and
the old Fates, who go on spinning as if nothing had happened, none of us
expects to last for another ten years. The sacrifices have dwindled down to
nothing. Zeus has put down his eagle. Hera has eaten her peacocks. Apollo's
lyre is never heard--pawned, no doubt. Bacchus drinks water, and
Venus--well, you can imagine how she gets on without him and Ceres. And
here you are, sleek and comfortable, and never troubling yourself about
your family. But you had better, or I swear I will tell Zeus; and we shall
see whether these Christians will keep you with your ante-chamber full of
starving gods. Take a day to think of what I have been saying!"
And away she flounced, not noticing Elenko. Long and earnestly did the pair
discuss the perils that menaced them, and at the end of their deliberations
Elenko sought the Bishop, and briefly imparted the Princess Miriam's
ultimatum.
"It is painful to a spiritual man," replied the prelate, "to be accessory
to a murder. It is also repugnant to his feelings to deny a beloved niece
anything on which she has set her heart. To avoid such grievous dilemma, I
judge it well that ye both ascend to heaven without further ceremony."
That night the ascent of Prometheus and Elenko was witnessed by divers
credible persons. The new church was consecrated shortly afterwards. It was
amply stored with relics from the wardrobe of Prometheus and what remained
of the eagle. The damsels of the capital regained their admirers, and
those who had become enamoured of Prometheus mostly transferred their
affections to the Bishop. Everybody was satisfied except the Princess
Miriam, who never ceased to deplore her indulgence in giving Elenko the
chance of first speech with her uncle.
"If I had been five minutes beforehand with the minx!" she said.
IV
The heaven to which Prometheus and Elenko had ascended was situated in a
sequestered valley of Laconia. A single winding path led into the glen,
which was inhabited only by a few hunters and shepherds, who still observed
the rites of the ancient faith; and sometimes, deeming but to show kindness
to a mortal, refreshed or sheltered a forlorn and hungry Deity. Saving at
the entrance the vale was walled round by steep cliffs, for the most part
waving with trees, but here and there revealing the naked crag. It was
traversed by a silvery stream, in its windings enclosing Prometheus's and
Elenko's cottage, almost as in an island. The cot, buried in laurel and
myrtle, had a garden where fig and mulberry, grape and almond, ripened in
their season. A few goats browsed on the long grass, and yielded their milk
to the household. Bread and wine, and flesh when needed, were easily
procured from the neighbours. Beyond necessary furniture, the cottage
contained little but precious scrolls, obtained by Elenko from Athens and
the newly founded city of Constantine. In these, under her guidance,
Prometheus read of matters that never, while he dwelt on Olympus, entered
the imagination of any God.
It is a chief happiness of lovers that each possesses treasures wholly
their own, which they may yet make fully the possession of the other. These
treasures are of divers kinds, beauty, affection, memory, hope. But never
were such treasures of knowledge shared between lovers as between
Prometheus and Elenko. Each possessed immeasurable stores, hitherto
inaccessible to the other. How trifling seemed the mythical lore which
Elenko had gleaned as the minister of Phoebus to that now imparted by
Prometheus! The Titan had seen all, and been a part of all that he had
seen. He had bowed beneath the sceptre of Uranus, he had witnessed his
fall, and marked the ocean crimson with his blood. He remembered hoary
Saturn a brisk active Deity, pushing his way to the throne of Heaven, and
devouring in a trice the stone that now resists his fangs for millenniums.
He had heard the shields of the Corybantes clash around the infant Zeus; he
described to Elenko how one day the sea had frothed and boiled, and
undraped Aphrodite had ascended from it in the presence of the gazing and
applauding amphitheatre of cloud-cushioned gods. He could depict the
personal appearance of Cybele, and sketch the character of Enceladus. He
had instructed Zeus, as Chiron had instructed Achilles; he remembered
Poseidon afraid of the water, and Pluto of the dark. He called to mind and
expounded ancient oracles heretofore unintelligible: he had himself been
told, and had disbelieved, that the happiest day of his own life would be
that on which he should feel himself divested of immortality. Of the
younger gods and their doings he knew but little; he inquired with interest
whether Bacchus had returned in safety from his Indian expedition, and
whether Proserpine had a family of divine imps.
Much more, nevertheless, had Elenko to teach Prometheus than she could
learn from him. How trivial seemed the history of the gods to what he now
heard of the history of men! Were these indeed the beings he had known
"like ants in the sunless recesses of caves, dwelling deep-burrowing in the
earth, ignorant of the signs of the seasons," to whom he had given fire and
whom he had taught memory and number, for whom he had "brought the horse
under the chariot, and invented the sea-beaten, flaxen-winged chariot of
the sailor?" And now, how poorly showed the gods beside this once wretched
brood! What Deity could die for Olympus, as Leonidas had for Greece? Which
of them could, like Iphigenia, dwell for years beside the melancholy sea,
keeping a true heart for an absent brother? Which of them could raise his
fellows nearer to the source of all Deity, as Socrates and Plato had raised
men? Who could portray himself as Phidias had portrayed Athene? Could the
Muses speak with their own voices as they had spoken by Sappho's? He was
especially pleased to see his own moral superiority to Zeus so eloquently
enforced by AEschylus, and delighted in criticising the sentiments which
the other poets had put into the mouths of the gods. Homer, he thought,
must have been in Olympus often, and Aristophanes not seldom. When he read
in the Cyclops of Euripides, "Stranger, I laugh to scorn Zeus's
thunderbolts," he grew for a moment thoughtful. "Am I," he questioned,
"ending where Polyphemus began?" But when he read a little further on:
The wise man's only Jupiter is this,
To eat and drink during his little day,
And give himself no care--
"No," he said, "the Zeus that nailed me to the rock is better than this
Zeus. But well for man to be rid of both, if he does not put another in
their place; or, in dropping his idolatry, has not flung away his religion.
Heaven has not departed with Zeus." And, taking his lyre, he sang:
What floods of lavish splendour
The lofty sun doth pour!
What else can Heaven render?
What room hath she for more?
Yet shall his course be shortly done,
And after his declining
The skies that held a single Sun
With thousands shall be shining.
V
It was not long ere the gods began to find their way to Prometheus's
earthly paradise, and who came once came again. The first was Epimetheus,
who had probably suffered least of all from the general upset, having in
truth little to lose since his ill-starred union with Pandora. He had
indeed reason for thankfulness in his practical divorce from his spouse,
who had settled in Caucasia, and gave Greek lessons to the Princess
Miriam. Would Prometheus lend him half a talent? a quarter? a tenth? a
hundredth? Thanks, thanks. Prometheus might rely upon it that his residence
should not be divulged on any account. Notwithstanding which assurance, the
cottage was visited next day by eleven gods and demigods, mostly Titans.
Elenko found it trying, and was really alarmed when by and by the Furies,
having made over their functions to the Devil, strolled up to take the air,
and dropped in for a chat, bringing Cerberus. But they behaved exceedingly
well, and took back a message from Elenko to Eurydice. Ere long she was on
most intimate terms with all the dethroned divinities, celestial, infernal,
and marine.
Beautiful and blessed beyond most things is youthful enthusiasm, looking up
to something it feels or deems above itself. Beautiful, too, as autumn
sunshine is maturity looking down with gentleness on the ideal it has
surpassed, and reverencing it still for old ideas and associations. The
thought of beholding a Deity would once have thrilled Elenko with rapture,
if this had not been checked by awe at her own presumption. The idea that a
Deity, other than some disgraced offender like Prometheus, could be the
object of her compassion, would never have entered her mind. And now she
pitied the whole Olympian cohort most sincerely, not so much for having
fallen as for having deserved to fall. She could not conceal from herself
how grievously they were one and all behind the age. It was impossible to
make Zeus comprehend how an idea could be a match for a thunderbolt. Apollo
spoke handsomely of Homer, yet evidently esteemed the Iliad and Odyssey
but lightly in comparison with the blind bard's hymn to himself. Ceres
candidly admitted that her mind was a complete blank on the subject of the
Eleusinian mysteries. Aphrodite's dress was admirable for summer, but in
winter seemed obstinate conservatism; and why should Pallas make herself a
fright with her Gorgon helmet, now that it no longer frightened anybody?
Where Elenko would fain have adored she found herself tolerating, excusing,
condescending. How many Elenkos are even now tenderly nursing ancient
creeds, whose main virtue is the virtue of their professors!
One autumn night all the principal gods were assembled under Prometheus's
roof, doing justice to the figs and mulberries, and wine cooled with
Taygetan snow. The guests were more than usually despondent. Prometheus was
moody and abstracted, his breast seemed labouring with thought. "So looked
my Pythoness," whispered Apollo to his neighbour, "when about to deliver an
oracle."
And the oracle came--in lyric verse, not to infringe any patent of
Apollo's--
When o'er the towers of Constantine
An Orient Moon begins to shine,
Waning nor waxing aught, and bright
In daytide as in deep of night:
Then, though the fane be brought
To wreck, the God shall find,
Enthroned in human thought,
A temple in the mind.
"And what becomes of us while this prodigious moonshine is concocting?"
demanded Zeus, who had become the most sceptical of any of the gods.
"Go to Elysium," suggested Prometheus.
"There's an idea!" cried Zeus and Pallas together.
"To Elysium! to Elysium!" exclaimed the other gods, and all rose
tumultuously, saving two.
"I go not," said Eros, "for where Love is, there is Elysium. And yonder
rising moon tells me that my hour is come." And he flitted forth.
"Neither go I," said an old blind god, "for where Plutus is, Elysium is
not. Moreover, mankind would follow after me. But I too must away. Strange
that I should have abode so long under the roof of a pair of perfect
virtue." And he tottered out.
But the other gods swept forth into the moonlight, and were seen no more.
And Prometheus picked up the forsaken sandals of Hermes, and bound them on
his own feet, and grasped Elenko, and they rose up by a dizzy flight to
empty heaven. All was silent in those immense courts, vacant of everything
save here and there some rusty thunderbolt or mouldering crumb of ambrosia.
Above, around, below, beyond sight, beyond thought, stretched the still
deeps of aether, blazing with innumerable worlds. Eye could rove nowhither
without beholding a star, nor could star be beheld from which the Gods'
hall, with all its vastness, would not have been utterly invisible. Elenko
leaned over the battlements, and watched the racing meteors. Prometheus
stood by her, and pointed out in the immeasurable distance the little speck
of shining dust from which they had flown.
"There? or here?" he asked.
"There!" said Elenko.
THE POTION OF LAO-TSZE
And there the body lay, age after age,
Mute, breathing, beating, warm, and undecaying,
Like one asleep in a green hermitage,
With gentle sleep about its eyelids playing,
And living in its dreams beyond the rage
Of death or life; while they were still arraying
In liveries ever new the rapid, blind,
And fleeting generations of mankind.
In the days of the Tang dynasty China was long happy under the sceptre of a
good Emperor, named Sin-Woo. He had overcome the enemies of the land,
confirmed the friendship of its allies, augmented the wealth of the rich,
and mitigated the wretchedness of the poor. But most especially was he
admired and beloved for his persecution of the impious sect of Lao-tsze,
which he had well-nigh exterminated.
It was but natural that such an Emperor should congratulate himself upon
his goodness and worth; yet, as no human bliss is perfect, sorrow could not
fail to enter his mind.
"It is grievous to reflect," said he to his courtiers, "that if, as ye all
affirm, there hath not been any Emperor of equal merit with myself before
my time, neither will any such arise after me, my subjects must inevitably
be sufferers by my death."
To which the courtiers unanimously responded, "O Emperor, live for ever!"
"Happy thought!" exclaimed the Emperor; "but wherewithal shall it be
executed?"
The Prime Minister looked at the Chancellor, the Chancellor looked at the
Treasurer, the Treasurer looked at the Chamberlain, the Chamberlain looked
at the Principal Bonze, the Principal Bonze looked at the Second Bonze,
who, to his great surprise, looked at him in return.
"When the turn comes to me," murmured the inferior functionary, "I would
say somewhat."
"Speak!" commanded the Emperor.
"O Uncle of the stars," said the Bonze, "there are those in your Majesty's
dominions who possess the power of lengthening life, who have, in fact,
discovered the Elixir of Immortality."
"Let them be immediately brought hither," commanded the Emperor.
"Unhappily," returned the Bonze, "these persons, without exception, belong
to the abominable sect of Lao-tsze, whose members your Majesty long ago
commanded to cease from existence, with which august order they have for
the most part complied. In my own diocese, where for some years after your
Majesty's happy accession we were accustomed to impale twenty thousand
annually, it is now difficult to find twenty, with the utmost diligence on
the part of the executioners."
"It has of late sometimes appeared to me," said the Emperor, "that there
may be more good in that sect than I have been led to believe by my
counsellors."
"I have always thought," said the Prime Minister, "that they were rather
misguided than wilfully wicked."
"They are a kind of harmless lunatics," said the Chancellor; "they should,
I think, be made wards in Chancery."
"Their money does not appear different from other men's," said the
Treasurer.
"I," said the Chamberlain, "have known an old woman who had known another
old woman who belonged to this sect, and who assured her that she had been
very good when she was a little girl."
"If," said the Emperor, "it appears that his Grace the Principal Bonze hath
in any respect misled us, his property will necessarily be confiscated to
the Imperial Treasury, and the Second Bonze will succeed to his office. It
is needful, however, to ascertain before all things whether this sect does
really possess the Elixir of Immortality, for on that the entire question
of its deserts obviously depends. Our Counsellor the Second Bonze having,
next to myself, the greatest interest in the matter, I desire him to make
due inquiries and report to us at the next council, when I shall be
prepared to state what fine will be imposed upon him, should he not have
succeeded."
That night all the members of the Lao-tsze sect inhabiting prisons under
the jurisdiction of the Principal Bonze were decapitated, and the P.B. laid
his own head upon his pillow with some approach to peace of mind, trusting
that the knowledge of the Elixir of Immortality had perished with them.
The Second Bonze, having a different object to attain, proceeded in a
different manner. He sent for his captives, and discoursed to them touching
the evil arts of unprincipled courtiers, and the facility with which they
mislead even the best intentioned princes. For years had he, the Second
Bonze, pleaded the cause of toleration at court; and had at length
succeeded in enlightening his Majesty to such an extent that there was
every prospect of an edict of indulgence being shortly promulgated,
provided always that the Elixir of Life was previously forthcoming.
The unfortunate heretics would have been only too thankful to prolong the
Emperor's life indefinitely in consideration of securing peace for their
own, but they could only inform the Bonze of the general tradition of their
sect. This was that the knowledge of Lao-tsze's secret was confined to
certain adepts, most of whom were plunged into so deep a trance that any
communication with them was impossible. For the administration of the
miraculous draught, it appeared, was attended with this inconvenience, that
it threw the partaker into a deep sleep, lasting any time between ten years
and eternity, according to the depth of his potation. During its
continuance the ordinary operations of nature were suspended, and the
patient awoke with precisely the same bodily constitution, old or young, as
he had possessed on falling into his lethargy; and though still liable to
wounds and accidents, he or she continued to enjoy undiminished health and
vigour for a period equal to the duration of the trance, after which he
sank back into the ranks of mortality, unless he could repeat the potion.
All the adepts who had come to life under his present Majesty's most
clement reign had immediately emigrated: the only persons, therefore,
capable of giving information were now buried in slumber, and of course
would only speak when they should awake. They were mostly concealed in the
recesses of caverns, those inhabited by wild beasts being usually preferred
for the sake of better security, as no tiger or bear would harm a follower
of Lao-tsze. The witnesses, therefore, advised the Bonze to ascertain the
residences of the most ferocious tigers in his diocese, and to wait upon
them personally, in the hope of thus discovering what he sought.
This suggestion was exceedingly unpalatable to the Bonze, who felt almost
equally unwilling to venture himself into a wild beast's den or to give any
other person the chance of making the discovery. While he hesitated in
unspeakable perplexity he was informed that an old man, about to expire at
the age of an hundred and twenty years, desired to have speech with him.
Thinking so venerable a personage likely to have at least a glimmering of
the great secret, the Bonze hurried to his bedside.
"Our master, Lao-tsze," began the old man, "forbids us to leave this world
with anything undisclosed which may contribute to the advantage of our
fellow-creatures. Whether he deemed the knowledge of the cup of immortality
conducive to this end I cannot say, but the question doth not arise, for I
do not possess it. Hear my tale, nevertheless. Ninety years ago, being a
hunter, it was my hap to fall into the jaws of an enormous tiger, who bore
me off to his cavern. I there found myself in the presence of two ladies,
one youthful and of surpassing loveliness, the other haggard and wrinkled.
The younger lady expostulated with the tiger, and he forthwith released me.
My gratitude won the women's confidence, and I learned that they were
disciples of Lao-tsze who had repaired to the cavern to partake of the
miraculous draught, which they were just about to do. They were, it
appeared, mother and daughter, and I distinctly remember that the
composition of the beverage was known to the daughter only. This impressed
me, for I should naturally have expected the contrary. The tiger escorted
me home. I forswore hunting, and became, and have secretly continued, a
disciple of Lao-tsze. I will now indicate the position of the cavern to
thee: whether the ladies will still be found in it is beyond my power to
say."
And having pointed out the direction of the cavern, he expired.
The thing had to be done. The Bonze dressed himself up as much like a
votary of Lao-tsze as possible, provided himself with a body-guard of _bona
fide_ disciples, and, accompanied by a small army of huntsmen and warriors
as well, marched in quest of the den of the tiger. It was discovered about
nightfall, and having tethered a small boy near the entrance, that his
screams when being devoured might give notice of the tiger's issue from or
return to his habitation, the Bonze and his myrmidons took up a flank
position and awaited the dawn. The distant howls of roaming beasts of prey
entirely deprived the holy man of his rest, but nothing worse befell him,
and when in the morning the small boy, instead of providing the tiger with
a breakfast, was heard crying for his own, the besiegers mustered up
courage to enter the cavern. The glare of their torches revealed no tiger:
but, to the Bonze's inexpressible delight, two females lay on the floor of
the cave, corresponding in all respects to the description of the old man.
Their costume was that of the preceding century. One was wrinkled and
hoary; the inexpressible loveliness of the other, who might have seen
seventeen or eighteen summers, extorted a universal cry of admiration,
followed by a hush of enraptured silence. Warm, flexible, fresh in colour,
breathing naturally as in slumber, the figures lay, the younger woman's arm
underneath the elder woman's neck, and her chin nestling on the other's
shoulder. The countenance of each seemed to indicate happy dreams.
"Can this indeed be but a trance?" simultaneously questioned several of the
Bonze's followers.
"_Fiat experimentum in corpore vili!_" exclaimed the Bonze; and he thrust
his long hunting spear into the elder woman's bosom. Blood poured forth
freely, but there was no change in the expression of the countenance. No
struggle announced dissolution; not until the body grew chill and the limbs
stiff could they be sure the old woman was indeed dead.
"Carry the young woman like porcelain," ordered the priest, and like the
most fragile porcelain the exquisite young beauty was borne from the cavern
smiling in her trance and utterly unconscious, while the corpse of her aged
companion was abandoned to the hyaenas. So often did the bearers pause to
look on her beauty that it was found necessary to drape the countenance
entirely, until reaching the closed sedan in which, vigilantly watched by
the Bonze, she was transported to the Imperial palace.
And so she was brought to the Emperor, and he worshipped her. She was laid
on a couch of cloth of gold in the Imperial apartments. Wonderful was the
contrast between her youthful beauty, so still in its repose, and the old
haggard Emperor, fevered with the lust of beauty and love of life.
"O Majesty," said his wisest counsellor, "is there any sect in thy
dominions that possesses the secret of perpetual youth?"
And the Emperor made proclamation, but no such sect could be found. And he
mourned exceedingly, and caused strong perfumes to be burned around the
sleeper, and conches to be blown and gongs beaten in her ears, hoping that
she would awake ere he was dead or wholly decrepit. But she stirred not.
And he shut himself up with her and passed his time praying to Fo for her
awakening.