Hypolympia Part 22

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 G.o.ds resume their seats in silence._ ZEUS _rises from his throne, and the G.o.ds perceive that the mist has now almost entirely evaporated around them, and that the entire scene is luminous with morning radiance. All the G.o.ds 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 G.o.ds, 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 s.h.i.+ps are coming out of the east, and the waves glide away at their wake in widening gla.s.sy 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.

HEPHaeSTUS.

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 s.h.i.+ps fleet closer. They are like monstrous fishes of living silver. I confess this is not what I antic.i.p.ated. 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 sh.o.r.e 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 gra.s.sy green which flutter in the cordage of the three s.h.i.+ps?

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 l.u.s.tre, and now it is arched to our sh.o.r.e, 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 G.o.ds take their places as before.

The air is now translucent, the sky cloudless, while the beechwoods flash with the l.u.s.tre of dew, and the sea beyond the white s.h.i.+ps is like a floor of turquoise._ IRIS _is seen to rise from the sh.o.r.e, 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 G.o.ds. 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 G.o.ds 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?