Hypolympia Part 11

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 wors.h.i.+ppers 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 wors.h.i.+ppers.

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 G.o.d.

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 wors.h.i.+p 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 a.s.sisting at a process of rustic wors.h.i.+p, 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 b.u.t.terfly 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 b.u.t.terfly re-enters from the right, and, after towering upwards, and wheeling in every direction, settles on a cl.u.s.ter 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._]