<SPAN name="startofbook"></SPAN>
<h1>THE TEMPTATION OF ST. ANTHONY</h1>
<h3>BY</h3>
<h2>GUSTAVE FLAUBERT</h2>
<h4>TRANSLATED BY</h4>
<h2>LAFCADIO HEARN</h2>
<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS by ODILON REDON</h2>
<p class="center" style="font-size: 0.8em;">(Added especially for this PG e-book.)</p>
<h5>THE ALICE HARRIMAN COMPANY</h5>
<h5>NEW YORK AND SEATTLE</h5>
<h5>1910</h5>
<hr class="full" />
<p><SPAN href="#CONTENTS">Contents</SPAN></p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[Pg i]</SPAN></span></p>
<h4><SPAN name="INTRODUCTION" id="INTRODUCTION">INTRODUCTION</SPAN></h4>
<p>It was at some period between 1875 and 1876 that Lafcadio Hearn—still
a "cub" reporter on a daily paper in Cincinnati—began his translation
of Flaubert's "Temptation of St. Anthony." The definitive edition of
the work, over which the author had laboured for thirty years, had
appeared in 1874.</p>
<p>Hearn was, in his early youth, singularly indifferent to the work of
the Englishmen of the Victorian period. Though he knew the English
masterpieces of that epoch, their large, unacademic freedom of manner
awakened no echoes in his spirit. His instinctive taste was for the
exquisite in style: for "that peculiar kneading, heightening, and
recasting" which Matthew Arnold thought necessary for perfection.
Neither did the matter, more than the manner of the Victorians appeal
to him. The circumstances of his life had at so many points set him
out of touch with his fellows that the affectionate<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[Pg ii]</SPAN></span> mockery of
Thackeray's pictures of English society were alien to his interest.
The laughing heartiness of Dickens' studies of the man in the street
hardly touched him. Browning's poignant analyses of souls were too
rudely robust of manner to move him. Before essaying journalism Hearn
had served for a while as an assistant in the Public Library, and
there he had found and fallen under the spell, of the great Frenchman
of the Romantic School of the '30's—that period of rich flowering of
the Gallic genius. Gautier's tales of ancient weirdnesses fired his
imagination. The penetrating subtleties of his verse woke in the boy
the felicitous emotions which the virtuoso knows in handling cameos
and enamellings by hands which have long been dust. So, also, Hugo's
revivals of the passions and terrors of the mediæval world stirred the
young librarian's eager interest. But most of all his spirit leapt
to meet the tremendous drama of the "Temptation." He comprehended at
once its large significance, its great import, and in his enthusiastic
recognition of its value and meaning he set at once about giving it a
language understood of the people of his own tongue.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Tunison tells of the little shy, shabby, half-blind boy—the long
dull day of police reporting done—labouring at his desk into the
small hours, with the flickering gas jet whistling overhead, and his
myopic eyes bent close to the papers which he covered with beautiful,
almost microscopic characters—escaping thus from the crass, raw world
about him to delicately and painstakingly turn into English stories
of Cleopatra's cruel, fantastic Egyptian Night's Entertainment.
Withdrawing himself to transliterate tales of pallid beautiful vampires
draining the veins of ardent boys: of lovely faded ghosts of great
ladies descending from shadowy tapestries to coquette with romantic
dreamers; or to find an English voice for the tragedy of the soul of
the Alexandrian cenobite.</p>
<p>It was in such dreams and labours that he found refuge from the
environment that was so antipathetic to his tastes, and in his
immersion in the works of these virtuosos of words, in his passionate
search for equivalents of the subtle nuances of their phrases, he
developed his own style. A style full of intricate assonances, of a
texture close woven and iridescent.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[Pg iv]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"One of Cleopatra's Night's"—a translation of some of Gautier's tales
of glamour—was issued in 1882, but at "The Temptation of St. Anthony"
the publishers altogether balked. The manuscript could not achieve even
so much as a reading. America had in the '70's just begun to emerge
from that state of provincial propriety in which we were accused of
clothing even our piano legs in pantelettes. The very name of the work
was sufficient to start modest shivers down the spine of all well
regulated purveyors of books. It was largely due to the painters'
conceptions of the nature of the hermit's trials that the story of
Saint Anthony's spiritual struggle aroused instinctive terrors in all
truly modest natures. The painters—who so dearly love to display their
skill in drawing legs and busts—had been wont to push the poor old
saint into the obscure of the background, and fill all the foreground
with ladies of obviously the very lightest character, in garments
still lighter, if possible. What had reputable American citizens to do
with such as these jades? More especially such jades as seen through
a French imagination! That Flaubert had brushed aside the gross and
jejune<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</SPAN></span> conceptions of the painters the publishers would not even take
the pains to learn.</p>
<p>It is amusing now to recall the nervous, timid proprieties of those
days. At the time Hearn failed to see the laughable side of it. He was
then too young and earnest, too passionate and too melancholy to have a
sense of its humours.</p>
<p>He had brought his unfinished manuscript from Cincinnati to New
Orleans, and had continued to work upon it in strange lodgings in
gaunt, old half-ruined Creole houses; at the tables of odd little
French cafés, or among the queer dishes in obscure Spanish and Chinese
restaurants. He had snatched minutes for it amidst the reading and
clipping of exchanges in a newspaper office; had toiled drippingly
over it in the liquifying heats of tropic nights; had arisen from the
"inexpungable langours" of yellow fever to complete its last astounding
pages.</p>
<p>I can remember applauding, with ardent youthful sympathy, his tirades
against the stultifying influence of blind puritanism upon American
literature. I recall his scornful mocking at the inconsistency which
complacently accepted the vulgar seduction, and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</SPAN></span> the theatrical Brocken
revels of Faust, while shrinking piously from Flaubert's grim story of
the soul of man struggling to answer the riddle of the universe. He
had however an almost equal contempt for the author's countrymen, who
received with eager interest and pleasure the deliberate analysis—in
<i>Madame Bovary</i>—of a woman's degradation and ruin, while they yawned
over the amazing history of humanity's tremendous spiritual adventures.
Hearn's own sensitiveness shrank in pain from the cold insight which
uncovered layer by layer the brutal squalour of a woman's moral
disintegration. But he was moved and astounded by the revelation, in
St. Anthony, of the tragedy and pathos of man's long search for some
body of belief or philosophy by which he could explain to himself
the strange great phenomena of life and death, and the inscrutable
cruelties of Nature. The young translator was filled with a sort of
astonished despair at his inability to make others see the book as
he did—not realizing, in his youthful impatience, that the average
mind clings to the concrete, and is puzzled and terrified by outlines
of thought too large for its range of vision; that the commonplace<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</SPAN></span>
intelligence cannot "see the wood for the trees," and becomes confused
and over-weighted when confronted with the huge outlines of so great a
picture as that drawn by Flaubert in his masterpiece.</p>
<p>There were many points of resemblance between Lafcadio Hearn and the
grandson of the French veterinary. A resemblance rather in certain
qualities of the spirit than in social conditions and physical
endowments. Flaubert, born in 1821, was the son of a surgeon. His
father was long connected with the Hôtel Dieu of Rouen, in which the
boy was born, and in which he lived until his eighteenth year, when he
went to Paris to study law. One of the friends of his early Parisian
days describes him as "a young Greek. Tall, supple, and as graceful as
an athlete. He was charming, <i>mais un peu farouche.</i> Quite unconscious
of his physical and mental gifts; very careless of the impression he
produced, and entirely indifferent to formalities. His dress consisted
of a red flannel shirt, trousers of heavy blue cloth, and a scarf of
the same colour drawn tight about his slender waist. His hat was worn
'any how' and often he abandoned it altogether. When I spoke to<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</SPAN></span> him of
fame or influence.... he seemed superbly indifferent. He had no desire
for glory or gain.... What was lacking in his nature was an interest in
<i>les choses extérieures, choses utiles.</i>" ...</p>
<p>One who saw him in 1879 found the young Greek athlete—now close upon
sixty, and having in the interval created some of the great classics
of French literature—"a huge man, a tremendous old man. His long,
straggling gray hair was brushed back. His red face was that of a
soldier, or a sheik—divided by drooping white moustaches. A trumpet
was his voice, and he gesticulated freely ... the colour of his eyes a
bit of faded blue sky."</p>
<p>The study of the law did not hold Flaubert long. It was one of those
<i>choses extérieures, choses utiles</i> to which he was so profoundly
indifferent. Paris bored him. He longed for Rouen, and for his little
student chamber. There he had lain upon his bed whole days at a time;
apparently as lazy as a lizard; smoking, dreaming; pondering the large,
inchoate, formless dreams of youth.</p>
<p>In 1845 his father died, and in the following year he lost his sister
Caroline, whom he had<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</SPAN></span> passionately loved, and for whom he grieved
all his life. He rejoined his mother, and they established themselves
at Croisset, near Rouen, upon a small inherited property. It was an
agreeable house, pleasantly situated in sight of the Seine. Flaubert
nourished with pleasure a local legend that Pascal had once inhabited
the old Croisset homestead, and that the Abbé Prevost had written
<i>Manon Lescaut</i> within its walls. Near the house—now gone—he built
for himself a pavilion to serve as a study, and in this he spent the
greater portion of the following thirty-four years in passionate,
unremitting labour.</p>
<p>He made a voyage to Corsica in his youth; one to Brittany, with Maxime
du Camp, in 1846; and spent some months in Egypt, Palestine, Turkey,
and Greece in 1849. This Oriental experience gave him the most intense
pleasure, and was the germ of <i>Salammbo</i>, and of the <i>Temptation of St.
Anthony.</i> He never repeated it, though he constantly talked of doing
so. He nursed a persistent, but unrealized dream of going as far as
Ceylon, whose ancient name, Taprobana, he was never weary of repeating;
utterance of its melifluous syllables becoming a positive <i>tic</i>
with him.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</SPAN></span> Despite these yearnings he remained at home. Despite his
full-blooded physique he would take no more exercise than his terrace
afforded, or an occasional swim in the Seine. He smoked incessantly,
and for months at a stretch worked fifteen hours out of the twenty-four
at his desk. Three hundred volumes might be annotated for a page of
facts. He would write twenty pages, and reduce these by exquisite
concisions, by fastidious rejections to three; would search for hours
for the one word that perfectly conveyed the colour of his thought, and
would—as in the case of the <i>Temptation</i>—wait fifteen years for a
sense of satisfaction with a manuscript before allowing it to see the
light. To Maxime du Camp, who urged him to hasten the completion of his
book in order to take advantage of a favourable opportunity, he wrote
angrily:</p>
<p>"Tu me parais avoir à mon endroit un tic ou vice rédhibitoire. Il
ne m'embête pas; n'aie aucune crainte; mon parti est pris là-dessus
depuis long temps. Je te dirai seulement que tous ces mots; <i>se
dépêcher, c'est le moment, place prise, se poser, ...</i> sont pour moi un
vocabulaire vide de sens...."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[Pg xi]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>In one of his letters he says that on occasion he worked violently for
eight hours to achieve one page. He endeavoured never to repeat a word
in that page, and tried to force every phrase to respond to a rhythmic
law. Guy do Maupassant, his nephew and pupil, says that to ensure this
rhythm Flaubert "prenait sa feuille de papier, relevait à la hauteur du
regard et, s'appuyant sur un coude, déclaimait, d'une voix mordant et
haute. Il écoutait la rythme de sa prose, s'arrêtait comme pour saisir
une sonorité fuyant, combinait les tons, éloignait les assonances,
disposait les virgules avec conscience, commes les haltes d'un long
chemin." ...</p>
<p>Flaubert said himself, "une phrase est viable quand elle correspond
à toutes les nécessités de respiration. Je sais qu'elle est bonne
lorsqu'elle peut être lu tout haut."</p>
<p>Henry Irving used to say of himself that it was necessary he should
work harder than other actors because nature had dowered him with
flexibility of neither voice nor feature, and Faguet says that Flaubert
was forced to this excessive toil and incessant watchfulness because
he did not write well naturally. Nevertheless Flaubert's work did not
smell<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[Pg xii]</SPAN></span> of the lamp. Whatever shape his ideas may have worn at birth
when full grown they moved with large classic grace and freedom,
simple, sincere, and beautiful in form. François Coppée calls him "the
Beethoven of French prose."</p>
<p>So conscientious a workman, so laborious and self-sacrificing an artist
had a natural attraction for Lafcadio Hearn, who even in boyhood began
to feel his vocation as "a literary monk." The whole tendency of his
tastes prepared him to understand the true importance of Flaubert's
masterpiece, fitted him especially of all living writers to turn that
masterpiece into its true English equivalent. The two men had much in
common. Both were proud and timid. Both had a fundamental indifference
to <i>choses extérieures, choses utiles.</i> Both were realists of the soul.
Actions interested each but slightly; the emotions from which actions
sprung very much. To both stupidity was even more antipathetic than
wickedness, because each realized that nearly all cruelty and vice have
their germ in ignorance and stupidity rather than in innate rascality.
Flaubert declared, with a sort of rage, that "la bêtise entre dans<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[Pg xiii]</SPAN></span>
mes pores." He might too have been speaking for Hearn when he said
that the grotesque, the strange, and the monstrous had for him an
inexplicable charm. "It corresponds," he says, "to the intimate needs
of my nature—it does not cause me to laugh, but to dream long dreams."
Hearn, however, mixed with this triste interest a quality that Flaubert
seemed almost wholly to lack—a great tenderness for all things humble,
feeble, ugly and helpless. Both from childhood were curious of poignant
sensations, of the sad, the mysterious and the exotic. And for both the
tropics had an irresistible fascination. Flaubert says, in one of his
letters:</p>
<p>"I carry with me the melancholy of the barbaric races, with their
instincts of migration, and their innate distaste of life, which forced
them to quit their homes in order to escape from themselves. They loved
the sun, all those barbarians who came to die in Italy; they had a
frenzied aspiration toward the light, toward the blue skies, toward an
ardent existence.... Think that perhaps I will never see China, will
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_xiv" id="Page_xiv">[Pg xiv]</SPAN></span>never be rocked to sleep by the cadenced footsteps of camels ... will
never see the shine of a tiger's eyes in the forest.... You can treat
all this as little worthy of pity, but I suffer so much when I think of
it ... as of something lamentable and irremediable."</p>
<p>This is the nostalgia for the strange, for the unaccustomed, that all
born wanderers know. Fate arranges it for many of them that their lives
shall be uneventful, passed in dull, provincial narrowness; but behind
these bars the clipped wings of their spirit are always flutteringly
spread for flight. They know not what they seek, what desire drives
them, but a sense of "the great adventure" unachieved keeps them
restless until they die. It is such as these, these <i>voyageurs
empassionés</i>, when condemned by fortune to a static existence—who find
their outlet in mental wanderings amid the unusual, the grotesque,
and the monstrous. Hearn and Flaubert both were at heart nomads,
seekers of the unaccustomed; stretching toward immensities of space
and time, toward the ghostly, the hidden, the unrealized. Like that
wild fantastic <i>Chimera</i> of the "Temptation" each such soul declares
"<i>je cherche des parfums<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_xv" id="Page_xv">[Pg xv]</SPAN></span> nouveaux, des fleurs plus large, des plaisirs
inéprouvés.</i>"</p>
<p>Flaubert was but twenty-six when the first suggestion of his
masterpiece came to him. For <i>La Tentation de St. Antoine</i>, it is
coming to be understood, is his masterpiece; is one of the greatest
literary achievements of the French mind. <i>Madame Bovary</i> is more
widely famous and popular, but Flaubert himself always deeply resented
this preference, and was always astonished at the comparative
indifference of the world to the "Temptation." He, too, found it
difficult to realize how hardly the average mind is awakened to an
interest in the incorporeal; how surely cosmic generalizations escape
the grasp of the commonplace intelligence.</p>
<p>Wagner waited a lifetime before the world was dragged reluctantly and
resentfully up to a point from which it could discern the superiority
of the tremendous finale of the Götterdämmerung to the Christmas-card
chorus of angels chanting "<i>Âme chaste et pure</i>" to the beatified
Marguerite. The whole prodigious structure of Wagner's dramatic and
musical thought might have remained a mere adumbration in the soul of
one<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_xvi" id="Page_xvi">[Pg xvi]</SPAN></span> German had chance not set a mad genius upon the throne of Bavaria.
The bourgeoisie would—lacking this royal bullying—have continued to
prefer Goethe and Gounod. Flaubert's great work unfortunately failed of
such patronage.</p>
<p>It was in 1845 that an old picture by Breughel, seen at Genoa, first
inspired Flaubert to attempt the story of St. Anthony. He sought
out an engraving of this conception of Peter the Younger (surnamed
"Hell-Breughel" for his fondness for such subjects), hung it on his
walls at Croisset, and after three years of brooding upon it began,
May 24, 1848, <i>La Tentation de St. Antoine.</i> In twelve months he had
finished the first draught of the work, which bulked to 540 pages. It
was laid aside for "Bovary," and a second version of the "Temptation"
was completed in 1856, but this time the manuscript had been reduced
to 193 pages, and the "blazing phrases, the jewelled words, the
turbulence, the comedy, the mysticism" of the first version had been
superseded by a larger, more dramatic conception. In 1872 he made still
a new draught, and by this time it had shrunk to 136 pages. He even
then<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_xvii" id="Page_xvii">[Pg xvii]</SPAN></span> eliminated three chapters, and finally gave to the world in 1874
"this wonderful coloured panorama of philosophy, this Gulliver-like
travelling amid the master ideas of the antique and early Christian
worlds."</p>
<p>Faguet says, "In its primitive and legendary state the temptation
of St. Anthony was nothing more than the story of a recluse tempted
by the Devil through the flesh, by all the artifices at the Devil's
disposal. In the definite thought of Flaubert the temptation of St.
Anthony has become man's soul tempted by all the illusions of human
thought and imagination. St. Anthony to the eyes of the first naive
hagiologists is a second Adam, seduced by woman, who was inspired by
Satan. St. Anthony conceived by Flaubert is a more thoughtful Faust; a
Faust incapable of irony, not a Faust who could play with illusions and
with himself—secretly persuaded that he could withdraw when he chose
to give himself the trouble to do so—rather a Faust who approached,
accosted, caressed all possible forms of universal illusions."</p>
<p>Flaubert's studies for the "Temptation" were tremendous. For nearly
thirty years he touched and retouched, altered, enlarged,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_xviii" id="Page_xviii">[Pg xviii]</SPAN></span> condensed.
He kneaded into its substance the knowledge, incessantly sought, of
all religions and philosophies; of all the forms man's speculations
had taken in his endless endeavours to explain to himself Life and
Fate; humanity's untiring, passionate effort to find the meaning of its
mysterious origin and purpose, and final destiny. How terrible, how
naive, how fantastic, bloody, grovelling, and outrageous were most of
the solutions accepted, the gigantic panorama of the book startlingly
sets forth. What gory agonies, what mystic exaltations, what dark
cruelties, frenzied abandons, and inhuman self denials have marked
those puzzled gropings for light and truth are revealed as by lightning
flashes in the crowding scenes of the epic. For the Temptation of St.
Anthony is an epic. Not a drama of man's actions, as all previous
epics have been, but a drama of the soul. All its movement is in the
adventure and conflict of the spirit. St. Anthony remains always in
the one place, almost as moveless as a mirror. His vision—clarified
of the sensual and the actual by his fastings and macerations—becomes
like the surface of an unruffled lake. A lake reflecting<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_xix" id="Page_xix">[Pg xix]</SPAN></span> the aberrant
forms of thoughts that, like clouds, drift between man and the infinite
depths of knowledge. Clouds of illusion forever changing, melting,
fusing; assuming forms grotesque, monstrous, intolerable; until at
last the writhing mists of speculation and ignorance are drunk up
by the widening light of wisdom and the fogs and phantasms vanish,
leaving his consciousness aware, in poignant ecstasy, of the cloudless
deeps of truth. The temptation of the flesh is but a passing episode.
An eidolon of Sheba's queen offers him luxury, wealth, voluptuous
beauty, power, dainty delights of eye and palate in vain. Man has never
found his most dangerous seductions in the appetites. More lamentable
disintegration has grown from his attempts to pierce beyond the
body's veil. The parched and tortured saint is whirled by vertiginous
visions through cycles of man's straining efforts to know why, whence,
whither. He assists at the rites of Mithira, the prostrations of
serpent-and-devil-worshippers, worshippers of fire, of light, of the
Greeks' deified forces of nature; of the northern enthronement of brute
force and war. He is swept by the soothing breath of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_xx" id="Page_xx">[Pg xx]</SPAN></span> Quietism, plunges
into every heresy and philosophy, sees the orgies, the flagellations,
the self mutilations, the battles and furies of sects, each convinced
that it has found the answer at last to the Great Question, and
endeavouring to constrain the rest of humanity to accept the answer.
He meets the Sphinx—embodied interrogation—and the Chimera—the
simulacrum of the fantasies of the imagination—dashing madly about the
stolid querist.</p>
<p>Lucifer—spirit of doubt of all dogmatic solutions—mounts with Anthony
into illimitable space. They rise beyond these struggles and furies
into the cold uttermost of the universe; among innumerable worlds;
worlds yet vaguely forming in the womb of time, newly come to birth,
lustily grown to maturity; worlds dying, decaying, crumbling again into
atomic dust. Overcome by the intolerable Vast, Anthony sinks once more
to his cell, and Lucifer, who has shown him the macrocosm, opens to
him the equal immensity of the microcosm. Makes him see the swarming
life that permeates the seas, the earth and atmosphere, the incredible
numerousness of the invisible lives that people<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_xxi" id="Page_xxi">[Pg xxi]</SPAN></span> every drop of water,
every grain of sand, every breath of air. The unity of life dawns upon
him, and his heart, withered by dubiety, melts into joyousness and
peace. As the day dawns in gold he beholds the face of Christ.</p>
<p>Flaubert's Lucifer has no relation to the jejune Devil of man's
early conception of material evil, nor does he resemble Goethe's
Mephistopheles; embodiment of the Eighteenth Century's spirit
of sneering disbeliefs and negation. He is rather our own
tempter—Science. He is the spirit of Knowledge: Nature itself calling
us to look into the immensities and read just our dogmas by this new
and terrible widening of our mental and moral horizons. This last
experience of the Saint reproduces the spiritual experiences of the
modern man; cast loose from his ancient moorings, and yet finding at
last in his new knowledge a truer conception of the brotherhood of all
life in all its forms, and seeing still, in the growing light, the
benignant eyes of God.</p>
<p>It is not remarkable that Flaubert resented the banality, the dull
grossness of the reception of his work, or that Hearn shared his
amazement and bitterness. Even yet the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_xxii" id="Page_xxii">[Pg xxii]</SPAN></span> world wakes but slowly to the
true character of this masterpiece; this epic wrought with so great
a care and patience, so instinct with genius, dealing perhaps more
profoundly than any other mind has ever done with the Great Adventure
of humanity's eternal search for Truth.</p>
<p style="margin-left: 70%; font-size: 0.8em;">ELIZABETH BISLAND.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_xxiii" id="Page_xxiii">[Pg xxiii]</SPAN></span></p>
<h4><SPAN name="ARGUMENT" id="ARGUMENT">ARGUMENT</SPAN></h4>
<hr class="chap" />
<h5>FRAILTY</h5>
<p>Sunset in the desert. Enfeebled by prolonged fasting, the hermit
finds himself unable to concentrate his mind upon holy things. His
thoughts wonder; memories of youth evoke regrets that his relaxed will
can no longer find strength to suppress,—and, remembrance begetting
remembrance, his fancy leads him upon dangerous ground. He dreams of
his flight from home,—of Ammonaria, his sister's playmate,—of his
misery in the waste,—his visit to Alexandria with the blind monk
Didymus,—the unholy sights of the luxurious city.</p>
<p>Involuntarily he yields to the nervous dissatisfaction growing upon
him. He laments his solitude, his joylessness, his poverty, the
obscurity of his life; grace departs from him; hope burns low within
his heart. Suddenly revolting against his weakness, he seeks refuge
from distraction in the study of the Scriptures.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_xxiv" id="Page_xxiv">[Pg xxiv]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Vain effort! An invisible hand turns the leaves, placing perilous
texts before his eyes. He dreams of the Maccabees slaughtering
their enemies, and desires that he might do likewise with the
Arians of Alexandria;—he becomes inspired with admiration of King
Nebuchadnezzar;—he meditates voluptuously upon the visit of Sheba's
queen of Solomon;—discovers a text in the Acts of the Apostles
antagonistic to principles of monkish ascetism,—indulges in reveries
regarding the riches of Biblical kings and holy men. The Tempter comes
to tempt him with evil hallucinations for which the Saint's momentary
frailty has paved the way; and with the Evil One come also</p>
<h5>THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS</h5>
<p>Phantom gold is piled up to excite Covetousness; shadowy banquets
appear to evoke Gluttony. The scene shifts to aid the temptations of
Anger and of Pride....</p>
<p>Anthony finds himself in Alexandria, at the head of a wild army of
monks slaughtering the heretics and the pagans, without mercy for
age or sex. In fantastic obedience to the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_xxv" id="Page_xxv">[Pg xxv]</SPAN></span> course of his fancy while
reading the Scriptures a while before, and like an invisible echo of
his evil thoughts, the scene changes again. Alexandria is transformed
into Constantinople.</p>
<p>Anthony finds himself the honoured of the Emperor. He beholds the
vast circus in all its splendour, the ocean of faces, the tumult of
excitement. Simultaneously he beholds his enemies degraded to the
condition of slaves, toiling in the stables of Constantine. He feels
joy in the degradation of the Fathers of Nicæa. Then all is transformed.</p>
<p>It is no longer the splendour of Constantinople he beholds under the
luminosity of a Greek day; but the prodigious palace of Nebuchadnezzar
by night. He beholds the orgies, the luxuries, the abominations;—and
the spirit of Pride enters triumphantly into him as the spirit of
Nebuchadnezzar....</p>
<p>Awaking as from a dream, he finds himself again before his hermitage.
A vast caravan approaches, halts; and the Queen of Sheba descends to
tempt the Saint with the deadliest of all temptations. Her beauty is
enhanced by oriental splendour of adornment; her converse is a song of
withcraft. The<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_xxvi" id="Page_xxvi">[Pg xxvi]</SPAN></span> Saint remains firm.... The Seven Deadly Sins depart
from him.</p>
<h5>THE HERESIARCHS</h5>
<p>But now the tempter assumes a subtler form. Under the guise of a former
disciple of Anthony,—Hilarion,—the demon, while pretending to seek
instruction, endeavours to poison the mind of Anthony with hatred of
the fathers of the church. He repeats all the scandals amassed by
ecclesiastical intriguers, all the calumnies created by malice;—he
cites texts only to foment doubt, and quotes the evangels only to
make confusion. Under the pretext of obtaining mental enlightenment
from the wisest of men, he induces Anthony to enter with him into
a spectral basilica, wherein are assembled all the Heresiarchs of
the third century. The hermit is confounded by the multitude of
tenets,—horrified by the blasphemies and abominations of Elkes,
Corpocrates, Valentinus, Manes, Cerdo,—disgusted by the perversions of
the Paternians, Marcosians, Montanists, Serptians,—bewildered by the
apocryphal Gospels of Eve and of Judas, of the Lord, and of Thomas.</p>
<p>And Hilarion grows taller.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_xxvii" id="Page_xxvii">[Pg xxvii]</SPAN></span></p>
<h5>THE MARTYRS</h5>
<p>Anthony finds himself in the dungeons of a vast amphitheatre, among
Christians condemned to the wild beasts. By this hallucination the
tempter would prove to the Saint that martyrdom is not always suffered
for purest motives. Anthony finds the martyrs possessed by bigotry and
insincerity. He sees many compelled to die against their will; many
who would forswear their faith could it avail them aught. He beholds
heretics die for their heterodoxy more nobly than orthodox believers.</p>
<p>And he finds himself transported to the tombs of the martyrs. He
witnesses the meetings of Christian women at the sepulchres. He beholds
the touching ceremonies of prayer, change into orgies,—lamentations
give place to amorous dalliance.</p>
<h5>THE MAGICIANS</h5>
<p>Then the Tempter seeks to shake Anthony's faith in the excellence
and evidence of miracles. He assumes the form of a Hindoo<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_xxviii" id="Page_xxviii">[Pg xxviii]</SPAN></span> Brahmin,
terminating a life of wondrous holiness by self-cremation;—he appears
as Simon Magus and Helen of Tyre,—as Appollonius of Tyans, greatest of
all thaumaturgists, who claims superiority to Christ. All the marvels
related by Philostratus are embodied in the converse of Apollonius and
Damis.</p>
<h5>THE GODS</h5>
<p>Hilarion reappears taller than ever, growing more gigantic in
proportion to the increasing weakness of the Saint. Standing beside
Anthony he evokes all the deities of the antique world. They defile
before him in a marvellous panorama:—Gods of Egypt and India, Chaldea
and Hellas, Babylon and Ultima Thule,—monstrous and multiform, phallic
and ithyphallic, fantastic or obscene. Some intoxicate by their beauty;
others appall by their foulness. The Buddha recounts the story of his
wondrous life; Venus displays the rounded daintiness of her nudity;
Isis utters awful soliloquy. Lastly the phantom of Jehovah appears, as
the shadow of a god passing away forever.</p>
<p>Suddenly the stature of Hilarion towers to<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_xxix" id="Page_xxix">[Pg xxix]</SPAN></span> the stars; he assumes the
likeness and luminosity of Lucifer; he announces himself as</p>
<h5>SCIENCE</h5>
<p>And Anthony is lifted upon mighty wings and borne away beyond the
world, above the solar system, above the starry arch of the Milky Way.
All future discoveries of Astronomy are revealed to him. He is tempted
by the revelation of innumerable worlds,—by the refutation of all
his previous ideas of the nature of the Universe,—by the enigmas of
infinity,—by all the marvels that conflict with faith. Even in the
night of immensity the demon renews the temptation of reason: Anthony
wavers upon the verge of pantheism.</p>
<h5>LUST AND DEATH</h5>
<p>Anthony abandoned by the spirit of Science comes to himself in the
desert. Then the Tempter returns under a two-fold aspect: as the
Spirit of Lust and the Spirit of Destruction. The latter urges him to
suicide,—the former to indulgence of sense. They inspire him with
strong fancies of palingenesis, of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_xxx" id="Page_xxx">[Pg xxx]</SPAN></span> the illusion of death, of the
continuity of life. The pantheistic temptation intensified.</p>
<h5>THE MONSTERS</h5>
<p>Anthony in reveries meditates upon the monstrous symbols painted upon
the walls of certain ancient temples. Could he know their meaning
he might learn also something of the secret lien between Matter and
Thought. Forthwith a phantasmagoria of monsters commence to pass before
his eyes:—the Sphinx and the Chimera, the Blemmyes and Astomi, the
Cynocephali and all creatures of mythologie creation. He beholds the
fabulous beings of Oriental imagining,—the abnormities described
by Pliny and Herodotus, the fantasticalities to be later adopted by
heraldry,—the grotesqueries of future medieval illumination made
animate;—the goblinries and foulnesses of superstitious fancy,—the
Witches' Sabbath of abominations.</p>
<h5>METAMORPHOSIS</h5>
<p>The multitude of monsters melts away; the land changes into an Ocean;
the creatures of the briny abysses appear. And the waters in<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_xxxi" id="Page_xxxi">[Pg xxxi]</SPAN></span> turn
also change; seaweeds are transformed to herbs, forests of coral
give place to forests of trees, polypous life changes to vegetation.
Metals crystallize; frosts effloresce; plants become living things,
inanimate matter takes animate form, monads vibrate, the pantheism of
nature makes itself manifest. Anthony feels a delirious desire to unite
himself with the Spirit of Universal Being....</p>
<p>The vision vanishes. The sun arises. The face of Christ is revealed.
The temptation has passed; Anthony kneels in prayer.</p>
<p style="margin-left: 80%; font-size: 0.8em;">L. H.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_xxxii" id="Page_xxxii">[Pg xxxii]</SPAN><br/><SPAN name="Page_xxxiii" id="Page_xxxiii">[Pg xxxiii]</SPAN><br/><SPAN name="Page_xxxiv" id="Page_xxxiv">[Pg xxxiv]</SPAN><br/><SPAN name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</SPAN></span></p>
<h3><SPAN name="THE_TEMPTATION_OF_ST_ANTHONY" id="THE_TEMPTATION_OF_ST_ANTHONY">THE TEMPTATION OF ST. ANTHONY</SPAN></h3>
<hr class="chap" />
<h4><SPAN name="I"></SPAN>I</h4>
<p><i>It is in the Thebaid at the summit of a mountain, upon a platform,
rounded off into the form of a demilune, and enclosed by huge stones.</i></p>
<p><i>The Hermit's cabin appears in the background. It is built of mud and
reeds, it is flat-roofed and doorless. A pitcher and a loaf of black
bread can be distinguished within also, in the middle of the apartment
a large book resting on a wooden stela; while here and there, fragments
of basketwork, two or three mats, a basket, and a knife lie upon the
ground.</i></p>
<p><i>Some ten paces from the hut, there is a long cross planted in the
soil; and, at the other end of the platform, an aged and twisted<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</SPAN></span>
palm tree leans over the abyss; for the sides of the mountain are
perpendicular, and the Nile appears to form a lake at the foot of the
cliff.</i></p>
<p><i>The view to right and left is broken by the barrier of rocks. But
on the desert-side, like a vast succession of sandy beaches, immense
undulations of an ashen-blonde color extend one behind the other,
rising higher as they recede; and far in the distance, beyond the
sands, the Libyan chain forms a chalk-colored wall, lightly shaded by
violet mists. On the opposite side the sun is sinking. In the north the
sky is of a pearl-gray tint, while at the zenith purple clouds disposed
like the tufts of a gigantic mane, lengthen themselves against the blue
vault. These streaks of flame take darker tones; the azure spots turn
to a nacreous pallor; the shrubs, the pebbles, the earth, all now seem
hard as bronze; and throughout space there floats a golden dust so fine
as to become confounded with the vibrations of the light.</i></p>
<p><i>Saint Anthony, who has a long beard, long hair, and wears a tunic of
goatskin, is seated on the ground cross-legged, and is occupied in
weaving mats. As soon as the sun disappears,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</SPAN></span> he utters a deep sigh,
and, gazing upon the horizon, exclaims</i>:—</p>
<p>"Another day! another day gone! Nevertheless formerly I used not to
be so wretched. Before the end of the night I commenced my orisons;
then I descended to the river to get water, and remounted the rugged
pathway with the skin upon my shoulder, singing hymns on the way. Then
I would amuse myself by arranging everything in my hut. I would make my
tools; I tried to make all my mats exactly equal in size, and all my
baskets light; for then my least actions seemed to me duties in nowise
difficult or painful of accomplishment.</p>
<p>"Then at regular hours I ceased working; and when I prayed with my arms
extended, I felt as though a fountain of mercy were pouring from the
height of heaven into my heart. That fountain is now dried up. Why?"</p>
<p>(<i>He walks up and down slowly, within the circuit of the rocks.</i>)</p>
<p>"All blamed me when I left the house. My mother sank to the ground,
dying; my sister from afar off made signs to me to return; and the
other—wept, Ammonaria, the child<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</SPAN></span> whom I used to meet every evening
at the cistern, when she took the oxen to drink. She ran after me. Her
foot rings glittered in the dust; and her tunic, open at the hips,
fluttered loosely in the wind. The aged anchorite who was leading me
away called her vile names. Our two camels galloped forward without
respite; and I have seen none of my people since that day.</p>
<p>"At first, I selected for my dwelling place, the tomb of a Pharaoh. But
an enchantment circulates through all those subterranean palaces, where
the darkness seems to have been thickened by the ancient smoke of the
aromatics. From the depths of Sarcophagi, I heard doleful voices arise,
and call my name; or else, I suddenly beheld the abominable things
painted upon the walls live and move; and I fled away to the shore
of the Red Sea, and took refuge in a ruined citadel. There my only
companions were the scorpions dragging themselves among the stones, and
the eagles continually wheeling above my head, in the blue of heaven.
At night I was torn by claws, bitten by beaks; soft wings brushed
against me; and frightful demons, shrieking in my ears, flung me upon
the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</SPAN></span> ground. Once I was even rescued by the people of a caravan going
to Alexandria; and they took me away with them.</p>
<p>"Then I sought to obtain instruction from the good old man Didymus.
Although blind, none equalled him in the knowledge of the Scriptures.
When the lesson was finished, he used to ask me to give him my arm
to lean upon, that we might walk together. Then I would conduct him
to the Paneum, whence may be seen the Pharos and the open sea. Then
we would return by way of the post, elbowing men of all nations,
even Cimmerians clad in the skins of bears and Gymnosophists of the
Ganges anointed with cow-dung. But there was always some fighting in
the streets—either on account of the Jews refusing to pay taxes, or
of seditious people who wished to drive the Romans from the city.
Moreover, the city is full of heretics—followers of Manes; Valentinus,
Basilides, Arius—all seeking to engross my attention in order to argue
with me and to convince me.</p>
<p>"Their discourses often come back to my memory. Vainly do I seek to
banish them from my mind. They trouble me!</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"I took refuge at Colzin, and there lived a life of such penance that
I ceased to fear God. A few men, desirous of becoming anchorites,
gathered about me. I imposed a practical rule of life upon them,
hating, as I did, the extravagance of Gnosus and the assertions of the
philosophers. Messages were sent to me from all parts, and men came
from afar off to visit me.</p>
<p>"Meanwhile the people were torturing the confessors; and the thirst of
martyrdom drew me to Alexandria. The persecution had ceased three days
before I arrived there!</p>
<p>"While returning thence, I was stopped by a great crowd assembled
before the temple of Serapis. They told me it was a last example which
the Governor had resolved to make. In the centre of the portico, under
the sunlight, a naked woman was fettered to a column, and two soldiers
were flogging her with thongs; at every blow her whole body writhed.
She turned round, her mouth open; and over the heads of the crowd,
through the long hair half hiding her face, I thought that I could
recognize Ammonaria....</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="redon201"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/redon2_01.jpg" width-obs="600" alt="" /> <div class="caption"><p>... through the long hair half hiding her face, I thought that I could recognize Ammonaria ...</p>
</div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="p2">"Nevertheless ... this one was taller ... and beautiful ...
prodigiously beautiful!"</p>
<p>(<i>He passes his hands over his forehead.</i>)</p>
<p>"No! no! I must not think of it!</p>
<p>"Another time Athanasius summoned me to assist him against the Arians.
The contest was limited to invectives and laughter. But since that
time he has been calumniated, dispossessed of his see, obliged to fly
for safety elsewhere. Where is he now? I do not know! The people give
themselves very little trouble to bring me news. All my disciples have
abandoned me—Hilarion like the rest.</p>
<p>"He was perhaps fifteen years of age when he first came to me and his
intelligence was so remarkable that he asked me questions incessantly.
Then he used to listen to me with a pensive air, and whatever I needed
he brought it to me without a murmur—nimbler than a kid, merry enough
to make even the patriarchs laugh. He was a son to me."</p>
<p>(<i>The sky is red; the earth completely black. Long drifts of sand
follow the course of the gusts of wind, rising like great shrouds and
falling again. Suddenly against a bright space in the sky a flock of
birds pass, forming<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</SPAN></span> a triangular battalion, gleaming like one sheet of
metal, of which the edges alone seem to quiver.</i></p>
<p><i>Anthony watches them.</i>)</p>
<p>"Ah, how I should like to follow them.</p>
<p>"How often also have I enviously gazed upon those long vessels,
whose sails resemble wings—and above all when they were bearing
far away those I had received at my hermitage! What pleasant hours
we passed!—what out-pourings of feeling! No one ever interested me
more than Ammon: he told me of his voyage to Rome, of the Catacombs,
the Coliseum, the piety of illustrious women, and a thousand other
things!—and it grieved me to part with him! Wherefore my obstinacy
in continuing to live such a life as this? I would have done well to
remain with the monks of Nitria, inasmuch as they supplicated me to
do so. They have cells apart, and nevertheless communicate with each
other. On Sundays a trumpet summons them to assemble at the church,
where one may see three scourges hanging up, which serve to punish
delinquents, robbers, and intruders; for their discipline is severe.</p>
<p>"Nevertheless they are not without some<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</SPAN></span> enjoyments. The faithful bring
them eggs, fruits, and even instruments with which they can extract
thorns from their feet. There are vineyards about Prisperi; those
dwelling at Pabena have a raft on which they may journey when they go
to seek provisions.</p>
<p>"But I might have served my brethren better as a simple priest. As a
priest one may aid the poor, administer the sacraments, and exercise
authority over families.</p>
<p>"Furthermore, all laics are not necessarily damned, and it only
depended upon my own choice to become—for example—a grammarian, a
philosopher. I would then have had in my chamber a sphere of reeds,
and tablets always ready at hand, young men around me, and a wreath of
laurel suspended above my door, as a sign.</p>
<p>"But there is too much pride in triumphs such as those. A soldier's
life would have been preferable. I was robust and bold: bold enough to
fasten the cables of the military machines—to traverse dark forests,
or to enter, armed and helmeted, into smoking cities.... Neither was
there anything to have prevented me from purchasing with my money the
position of publican at the toll-office<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</SPAN></span> of some bridge; and travellers
would have taught me many strange things, and told me strange stories,
the while showing me many curious objects packed up among their
baggage....</p>
<p>"The merchants of Alexandria sail upon the river Canopus on holidays,
and drink wine in the chalices of lotus-flowers, to a music of
tambourines which makes the taverns along the shore tremble! Beyond,
trees, made cone-shaped by pruning, protect the quiet farms against
the wind of the south. The roof of the lofty house leans upon thin
colonettes placed as closely together as the laths of a lattice;
and through their interspaces the master, reclining upon his long
couch, beholds his plains stretching about him—the hunter among the
wheat-fields—the winepress where the vintage is being converted into
wine, the oxen treading out the wheat. His children play upon the floor
around him; his wife bends down to kiss him."</p>
<p>(<i>Against the grey dimness of the twilight, here and there appear
pointed muzzles, with straight, pointed ears and bright eyes. Anthony
advances toward them. There is a<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</SPAN></span> sound of gravel crumbling down; the
animals take flight. It was a troop of jackals.</i></p>
<p><i>One still remains, rising upon his hinder legs, with his body half
arched and head raised in an attitude full of defiance.</i>)</p>
<p>"How pretty he is! I would like to stroke his back gently!"</p>
<p>(<i>Anthony whistles to coax him to approach. The jackal disappears.</i>)</p>
<p>"Ah! he is off to join the others. What solitude! what weariness!"
(<i>Laughing bitterly.</i>)</p>
<p>"A happy life this indeed!—bending palm-branches in the fire to make
shepherds' crooks, fashioning baskets, stitching mats together—and
then exchanging these things with the Nomads for bread which breaks
one's teeth! Ah! woe, woe is me! will this never end? Surely death were
preferable! I can endure it no more! Enough! enough!"</p>
<p>(<i>He stamps his foot upon the ground, and rushes frantically to and fro
among the rocks; then pauses, out of breath, bursts into tears, and
lies down upon the ground, on his side.</i></p>
<p><i>The night is calm; multitudes of stars are palpitating; only the
crackling noise made by the tarantulas is audible.</i></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><i>The two arms of the cross make a shadow upon the sand; Anthony, who is
weeping, observes it.</i>)</p>
<p>"Am I, then, so weak, O my God! Courage, let me rise from here!"</p>
<p>(<i>He enters his hut, turns over a pile of cinders, finds a live ember,
lights his torch and fixes it upon the wooden desk, so as to throw a
light upon the great book.</i>)</p>
<p>"Suppose I take the Acts of the Apostles?—yes!—no matter where!"</p>
<p><i>'And he saw the heaven opened, and a certain vessel descending, as it
were a great linen sheet let down by the four corners from heaven to
the earth—wherein were all manner of four-footed beasts, and creeping
things of the earth and fowls of the air. And there came a voice to
him: Arise, Peter! Kill and eat!'</i><SPAN name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</SPAN></p>
<p>"Then the Lord desired that his apostle should eat of all things?...
while I...."</p>
<p>(<i>Anthony remains thoughtful, his chin resting against his breast. The
rustling of the pages, agitated by the wind, causes him to lift his
head again; and he reads</i>:)</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><i>'So the Jews made a great slaughter of their enemies with the sword,
and killed them, repaying according to what they had prepared to do to
them....</i><SPAN name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</SPAN></p>
<p>"Then, comes the number of people slain by them—seventy-five thousand.
They had suffered so much! Moreover, their enemies were the enemies of
the true God. And how they must have delighted in avenging themselves
thus by the massacre of idolaters! Doubtless the city must have been
crammed with the dead! There must have been corpses at the thresholds
of the garden gates, upon the stairways, in all the chambers, and piled
up so high that the doors could no longer move upon their hinges!...
But lo! here I am permitting my mind to dwell upon ideas of murder and
of blood!..."</p>
<p>(<i>He opens the book at another place.</i>)</p>
<p><i>'Then King Nabuchodonosor fell on his face, and worshipped
Daniel....</i>'<SPAN name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</SPAN></p>
<p>"Ah! that was just! The <i>Most High</i> exalts his prophets above Kings;
yet that monarch spent his life in banqueting, perpetually drunk with
pleasure and pride. But God, to<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</SPAN></span> punish him, changed him into a beast!
He walked upon four feet!"</p>
<p>(<i>Anthony begins to laugh; and in extending his arms, involuntarily
disarranges the leaves of the book with the tips of his fingers. His
eyes fell upon this phrase</i>:—)</p>
<p><i>'And Ezechias rejoiced at their coming, and he showed them the house
of his aromatical spices, and the gold and the silver, and divers
precious odours and ointments, and the house of his vessels, and all
that he had in his treasures....'</i><SPAN name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</SPAN></p>
<p>"I can imagine that spectacle; they must have beheld precious stones,
diamonds and darics heaped up to the very roof. One who possesses so
vast an accumulation of wealth is no longer like other men. While
handling his riches he knows that he controls the total result of
innumerable human efforts—as it were the life of nations drained by
him and stored up, which he can pour forth at will. It is a commendable
precaution on the part of Kings. Even the <i>Wisest</i> of all did not
neglect it. His navy brought him elephants' teeth and apes.... Where is
that passage?"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>(<i>He turns the leaves over rapidly.</i>)</p>
<p>"Ah! here it is:"</p>
<p><i>'And the Queen of Saba, having heard of the fame of Solomon in the
name of the Lord, came to try him with hard questions.'</i><SPAN name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</SPAN></p>
<p>"How did she hope to tempt him? The <i>Devil</i> indeed sought to tempt
Jesus! But Jesus triumphed because he was God; and Solomon, perhaps,
owing this knowledge of magic! It is sublime—that science! For the
world—as a philosopher once explained it to me, forms a whole, of
which all parts mutually influence one another, like the organs of one
body. It is science which enables us to know the natural loves and
natural repulsions of all things, and to play upon them?... Therefore,
it is really possible to modify what appears to be the immutable order
of the universe?"</p>
<p>(<i>Then the two shadows formed behind him by the arms of the cross,
suddenly lengthen and project themselves before him. They assume the
form of two great horns. Anthony cries out</i>:—)</p>
<p>"Help me! O my God!"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="redon02"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/redon_02.jpg" width-obs="600" alt="" /> <div class="caption"><p>Saint Anthony: Help me, O my God!</p> </div>
</div>
<p class="p2">(<i>The shadows shrink back to their former place.</i>)</p>
<p>"Ah!... it was an illusion ... nothing more. It is needless for me to
torment my mind further! I can do nothing!—absolutely nothing."</p>
<p>(<i>He sits down and folds his arms.</i>)</p>
<p>"Nevertheless ... it seems to me that I felt the approach of.... But
why should <i>He</i> come? Besides, do I not know all his artifices? I
repulsed the monstrous anchorite who laughingly offered me little
loaves of warm, fresh bread, the centaur who sought to carry me away
upon his croup, and that black child who appeared to me in the midst of
the sands, who was very beautiful, and who told me that he was called
the Spirit of Lust!"</p>
<p>(<i>Anthony rises and walks rapidly up and down, first to the right, then
to the left.</i>)</p>
<p>"It was by my order that this multitude of holy retreats was
constructed—full of monks all wearing sackcloth of camel's hair
beneath their garments of goatskin, and numerous enough to form an
army. I have cured the sick from afar off; I have cast out demons;
I have passed the river in the midst of crocodiles;<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</SPAN></span> the Emperor
Constantine wrote me throe letters; Balacius, who had spat upon mine,
was torn to pieces by his own horses; when I reappeared the people of
Alexandria fought for the pleasure of seeing me, and Athanasius himself
escorted me on the way back. But what works have I not accomplished
Lo! for these thirty years and more I have been dwelling and groaning
unceasingly in the desert! Like Eusebius, I have carried thirty-eight
pounds of bronze upon my loins; like Macarius, I have exposed my body
to the stings of insects; like Pacomus, I have passed fifty-three
nights without closing my eyes; and those who are decapitated, tortured
with red hot pincers, or burned alive, are perhaps less meritorious
than I, seeing that my whole life is but one prolonged martyrdom."
(<i>Anthony slackens his pace.</i>)</p>
<p>"Assuredly there is no human being in a condition of such unutterable
misery! Charitable hearts are becoming scarcer. I no longer receive
aught from any one. My mantle is worn out. I have no sandals—I have
not even a porringer!—for I have distributed all I possessed to the
poor and to my family, without retaining so much as one obolus. Yet<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</SPAN></span>
surely I ought to have a little money to obtain the tools indispensable
to my work? Oh, not much! a very small sum.... I would be very saving
of it....</p>
<p>"The fathers of Nicæa, clad in purple robes, sat like magi, upon
thrones ranged along the walls; and they were entertained at a great
banquet and overwhelmed with honours, especially Paphnutius, because he
is one-eyed and lame, since the persecution of Diocletian! The Emperor
kissed his blind eye several times; what foolishness! Besides, there
were such infamous men members of that Council! A bishop of Scythia,
Theophilus! another of Persia, John! a keeper of beasts, Spiridion!
Alexander was too old. Athanasius ought to have shown more gentleness
towards the Arians, so as to have obtained concessions from them.</p>
<p>"Yet would they have made any? They would not hear me! The one who
spoke against me—a tall young man with a curly beard—uttered the
most captious objections to my argument; and while I was seeking words
to express my views they all stared at me with their wicked faces,
and barked like hyenas. Ah! why cannot I have them all exiled<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</SPAN></span> by the
Emperor! or rather have them beaten, crushed, and see them suffer! I
suffer enough myself."</p>
<p>(<i>He leans against his cabin in a fainting condition.</i>)</p>
<p>"It is because I have fasted too long; my strength is leaving me. If I
could eat—only once more—a piece of meat." (<i>He half closes his eyes
with languor.</i>)</p>
<p>"Ah! some red flesh—a bunch of grapes to bite into ... curdled milk
that trembles on a plate!...</p>
<p>"But what has come upon me? What is the matter with me? I feel my heart
enlarging like the sea, when it swells before the storm. An unspeakable
feebleness weighs down upon me, and the warm air seems to waft me
the perfume of a woman's hair. No woman has approached this place;
nevertheless?—"</p>
<p>(<i>He gazes toward the little pathway between the rocks.</i>)</p>
<p>"That is the path by which they come, rocked in their litters by the
black arms of the eunuchs. They descend and joining their hands,
heavy with rings, kneel down before me. They relate to me all their
troubles.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</SPAN></span> The desire of human pleasure tortures them; they would
gladly die; they have seen in their dreams God calling to them ... and
all the while the hems of their robes fall upon my feet. I repel them
from me. 'Ah! no!' they cry, 'not yet! What shall I do?' They gladly
accept any penitence I impose on them. They ask for the hardest of all;
they beg to share mine and to live with me.</p>
<p>"It is now a long time since I have seen any of them! Perhaps some of
them will come! why not? If I could only hear again, all of a sudden,
the tinkling of mule-bells among the mountains. It seems to me...."</p>
<p>(<i>Anthony clambers upon a rock at the entrance of the pathway, and
leans over, darting his eyes into the darkness.</i>)</p>
<p>"Yes! over there, far off I see a mass moving, like a band of
travellers seeking the way. <i>She</i> is there!... They are making a
mistake." (<i>Calling.</i>)</p>
<p>"This way! Come! Come!"</p>
<p>(<i>Echo repeats: Come! Come! he lets his arms fall, stupefied.</i>)</p>
<p>"What shame for me! Alas! poor Anthony."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>(<i>And all of a sudden he hears a whisper:—"Poor Anthony"!</i>)</p>
<p>"Who is there? Speak!"</p>
<p>(<i>The wind passing through the intervals between the rocks, makes
modulations; and in those confused sonorities he distinguishes Voices,
as though the air itself were speaking. They are low, insinuating,
hissing.</i>)</p>
<p><i>The First</i>: "Dost thou desire women?"</p>
<p><i>The Second</i>: "Great heaps of money, rather!"</p>
<p><i>The Third</i>: "A glittering sword?" (<i>and</i>)</p>
<p><i>The Others</i>: "All the people admire thee! Sleep!"</p>
<p>"Thou shalt slay them all, aye, thou shalt slay them!"</p>
<p>(<i>At the same moment objects become transformed. At the edge of the
cliff, the old palm tree with its tuft of yellow leaves, changes into
the torso of a woman leaning over the abyss, her long hair waving in
the wind.</i></p>
<p><i>Anthony turns toward his cabin; and the stool supporting the great book
whose pages are covered with black letters, seems to him changed into a
bush all covered with nightingales.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"It must be the torch which is making this strange play of light....
Let us put it out!"</p>
<p>(<i>He extinguishes it; the obscurity becomes deeper, the darkness
profound.</i></p>
<p><i>And suddenly in the air above there appear and disappear
successively—first, a stretch of water; then the figure of a
prostitute; the corner of a temple, a soldier; a chariot with two white
horses, prancing.</i></p>
<p><i>These images appear suddenly, as in flashes—outlined against the
background of the night, like scarlet paintings executed upon ebony.</i></p>
<p><i>Their motion accelerates. They defile by with vertiginous rapidity.
Sometimes again, they pause and gradually pale and melt away; or else
float off out of sight, to be immediately succeeded by others.</i></p>
<p><i>Anthony closes his eyelids.</i></p>
<p><i>They multiply, surround him, besiege him. An unspeakable fear takes
possession of him; and he feels nothing more of living sensation, save
a burning contraction of the epigastrium. In spite of the tumult in
his brain, he is aware of an enormous silence which separates him from
the world. He tries to speak;—impossible!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</SPAN></span> He feels as though all the
bands of his life were breaking and dissolving;—and, no longer able to
resist, Anthony falls prostrate upon his mat.</i>)</p>
<hr class="r5" />
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></SPAN> Acts X: 11-13—T.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></SPAN> Esther IX: 5—T.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></SPAN> Daniel II: 46.—T.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></SPAN> Kings XX: 13 (Vulg.).—T.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></SPAN> III Kings X: I (Vulg.).—T.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h4><SPAN name="II" id="II">II</SPAN></h4>
<p>(<i>Then a great shadow, subtler than any natural shadow, and festooned
by other shadows along its edges, defines itself upon the ground.</i></p>
<p><i>It is the Devil, leaning upon the roof of the hut, and bearing beneath
his wings—like some gigantic bat suckling its little ones—the Seven
Deadly Sins, whose grimacing heads are dimly distinguishable.</i></p>
<p><i>With eyes still closed, Anthony yields to the pleasure of inaction;
and stretches his limbs upon the mat.</i></p>
<p><i>It seems to him quite soft, and yet softer—so that it becomes as if
padded; it rises up; it becomes a bed. The bed becomes a shallop; water
laps against its sides.</i></p>
<p><i>To right and left rise two long tongues of land, overlooking low
cultivated plains, with a sycamore tree here and there. In the distance
there is a tinkling of bells, a sound of drums and of singers. It is a
party going to<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</SPAN></span> Canopus to sleep upon the temple of Serapis, in order
to have dreams. Anthony knows this; and impelled by the wind, his boat
glides along between the banks. Papyrus-leaves and the red flowers of
the nymphæa, larger than the body of a man, bend over him. He is lying
at the bottom of the boat; one oar at the stem, drags in the water.
From time to time, a lukewarm wind blows; and the slender reeds rub one
against the other, and rustle. Then the sobbing of the wavelets becomes
indistinct. A heavy drowsiness falls upon him. He dreams that he is a
Solitary of Egypt.</i></p>
<p><i>Then he awakes with a start.</i>)</p>
<p>"Did I dream? It was all so vivid that I can scarcely believe I was
dreaming! My tongue burns. I am thirsty."</p>
<p>(<i>He enters the cabin, and gropes at random in the dark.</i>)</p>
<p>"The ground is wet; can it have been raining? What can this mean! My
pitcher is broken into atoms! But the goatskin?" (<i>He finds it.</i>)</p>
<p>"Empty!—completely empty! In order to get down to the river, I should
have to walk for at least three hours; and the night is so dark that I
could not see my way.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"There is a gnawing in my entrails. Where is the bread!"</p>
<p>(<i>After long searching, he picks up a crust not so large as an egg.</i>)</p>
<p>"What? Have the jackals taken it? Ah! malediction!"</p>
<p>(<i>And he flings the bread upon the ground with fury.</i></p>
<p><i>No sooner has the action occurred than a table makes its appearance,
covered with all things that are good to eat.</i></p>
<p><i>The byssus cloth, striated like the bandelets of the sphinx, produces
of itself luminous undulations. Upon it are enormous quarters of red
meats; huge fish; birds cooked in their plumage, and quadrupeds in
their skins; fruits with colors and tints almost human in appearance;
while fragments of cooling ice, and flagons of violet crystal reflect
each other's glittering. Anthony notices in the middle of the table
a boar smoking at every pore—with legs doubled up under its belly,
and eyes half closed—and the idea of being able to eat so formidable
an animal greatly delights him. Then many things appear which he has
never seen before—black hashes, jellies, the color of gold, ragouts in
which<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</SPAN></span> mushrooms float like nenuphars upon ponds, dishes of whipt cream
light as clouds.</i></p>
<p><i>And the aroma of all this comes to him together with the salt smell of
the ocean, the coolness of mountains, the great perfumes of the woods.
He dilates his nostrils to their fullest extent; his mouth waters; he
thinks to himself that he has enough before him for a year, for ten
years, for his whole life!</i></p>
<p><i>As he gazes with widely-opened eyes at all these viands, others
appear; they accumulate, forming a pyramid crumbling at all its angles.
The wines begin to flow over—the fish palpitate—the blood seethes in
the dishes—the pulp of the fruit protrudes like amorous lips—and the
table rises as high as his breast, up to his very chin at last—now
bearing only one plate and a single loaf of bread, placed exactly in
front of him.</i></p>
<p><i>He extends his hand to seize the loaf. Other loaves immediately
present themselves to his grasp.</i>)</p>
<p>"For me!... all these! But ..." (<i>Anthony suddenly draws back.</i>)</p>
<p>"Instead of one which was there, lo! there are many! It must be a
miracle, then, the same as our Lord wrought!</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Yet for what purpose?... Ah! all the rest of these things are equally
incomprehensible! Demon, begone from me! depart! begone!"</p>
<p>(<i>He kicks the table from him. It disappears.</i>)</p>
<p>"Nothing more?—no!" (<i>He draws a lung breath.</i>)</p>
<p>"Ah! the temptation was strong! But how well I delivered myself from
it!"</p>
<p>(<i>He lifts his head, and at the same time stumbles over some sonorous
object.</i>)</p>
<p>"Why! what can that be?" (<i>Anthony stoops down.</i>)</p>
<p>"How! a cup! Some traveller must have lost it here. There is nothing
extraordinary...."</p>
<p>(<i>He wets his finger, and rubs.</i>)</p>
<p>"It glitters!—metal! Still, I cannot see very clearly...."</p>
<p>(<i>He lights his torch, and examines the cup.</i>)</p>
<p>"It is silver, ornamented with ovules about the rim, with a medal at
the bottom of it."</p>
<p>(<i>He detaches the medal with his nail!</i>)</p>
<p>"It is a piece of money worth about seven or eight drachmas—not more!
It matters<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</SPAN></span> not! even with that I could easily buy myself a sheepskin."</p>
<p>(<i>A sudden flash of the torch lights up the cup.</i>)</p>
<p>"Impossible! gold? Yes, all gold, solid gold!"</p>
<p>(<i>A still larger piece of money appears at the bottom. Under it he
perceives several others.</i>)</p>
<p>"Why, this is a sum ... large enough to purchase three oxen ... and a
little field!"</p>
<p>(<i>The cup is now filled with pieces of gold.</i>)</p>
<p>"What! what!... a hundred slaves, soldiers, a host ... enough to
buy...."</p>
<p>(<i>The granulations of the rim, detaching themselves form a necklace of
pearls.</i>)</p>
<p>"With such a marvel of jewelry as that, one could win even the wife of
the Emperor!"</p>
<p>(<i>By a sudden jerk, Anthony makes the necklace slip down over his
wrist. He holds the cup in his left hand, and with his right lifts
up the torch so as to throw the light upon it. As water streams
overflowing from the basin of a fountain, so diamonds, carbuncles, and
sapphires, all mingled with broad<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</SPAN></span> pieces of gold bearing the effigies
of Kings, overflow from the cup in never ceasing streams, to form a
glittering hillock upon the sand.</i>)</p>
<p>"What! how! Staters, cycles, dariacs, aryandics; Alexander, Demetrius,
the Ptolemies, Cæsar!—yet not one of them all possessed so much!
Nothing is now impossible! no more suffering for me! how these
gleams dazzle my eyes! Ah! my heart overflows! how delightful it is!
yes—yes!—more yet! never could there be enough! Vainly I might
continually fling it into the sea, there would always be plenty
remaining for me. Why should I lose any of it? I will keep all, and say
nothing to any one about it; I will have a chamber hollowed out for me
in the rock, and lined with plates of bronze, and I will come here from
time to time to feel the gold sinking down under the weight of my heel;
I will plunge my arms into it as into sacks of grain! I will rub my
face with it, I will lie down upon it!"</p>
<p>(<i>He flings down the torch in order to embrace the glittering heap, and
falls flat upon the ground.</i></p>
<p><i>He rises to his feet. The place is wholly empty.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"What have I done!</p>
<p>"Had I died during those moments, I should have gone to hell—to
irrevocable damnation."</p>
<p>(<i>He trembles in every limb.</i>)</p>
<p>"Am I, then, accursed? Ah! no; it is my own fault! I allow myself
to be caught in every snare! No man could be more imbecile, more
infamous! I should like to beat myself, or rather to tear myself out
of my own body! I have restrained myself too long. I feel the want of
vengeance—the necessity of striking, of killing!—as though I had a
pack of wild beasts within me! Would that I could hew my way with an
axe, through the midst of a multitude.... Ah, a poniard!..."</p>
<p>(<i>He perceives his knife, and rushes to seize it. The knife slips from
his hand; and Anthony remains leaning against the wall of his hut, with
wide-open mouth, motionless, cataleptic.</i></p>
<p><i>Everything about him has disappeared.</i></p>
<p><i>He thinks himself at Alexandria, upon the Paneum—an artificial
mountain in the centre of the city, encircled by a winding stairway.</i></p>
<p><i>Before him lies Lake Mareolis; on his right hand is the sea, on his
left the country; and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</SPAN></span> immediately beneath him a vast confusion of
flat roofs, traversed from north to south and from east to west by
two streets which intercross, and which offer throughout their entire
length the spectacle of files of porticoes with Corinthian columns. The
houses overhanging this double colonnade have windows of stained glass.
Some of them support exteriorly enormous wooden cages, into which the
fresh air rushes from without.</i></p>
<p><i>Monuments of various architecture tower up in close proximity.
Egyptian pylons dominate Greek temples. Obelisks appear like lances
above battlements of red brick. In the middle of public squares there
are figures of Hermes with pointed ears, and of Anubis with the head of
a dog. Anthony can distinguish the mosaic pavements of the courtyards,
and tapestries suspended from the beams of ceilings.</i></p>
<p><i>He beholds at one glance, the two ports (the Great Port and the
Eunostus), both round as circuses, and separated by a mole connecting
Alexandria with the craggy island upon which the Pharos-tower
rises—quadrangular, five hundred cubits high, nine storied,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</SPAN></span> having at
its summit a smoking heap of black coals.</i></p>
<p><i>Small interior ports open into the larger ones. The mole terminates at
each end in a bridge supported upon marble columns planted in the sea.
Sailing vessels pass beneath it, while heavy lighters overladen with
merchandise, thalamegii<SPAN name="FNanchor_1_6" id="FNanchor_1_6"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_1_6" class="fnanchor">[1]</SPAN> inlaid with ivory, gondolas covered with
awnings, triremes, biremes, and all sorts of vessels are moving to and
fro, or lie moored at the wharves.</i></p>
<p><i>About the Great Port extends an unbroken array of royal construction:
the palace of the Ptolomies, the Museum, the Posidium, the Cæsareum,
the Timonium where Mark Anthony sought refuge, the Soma which contains
the tomb of Alexander; while at the other extremity of the city, beyond
the Eunostus, the great glass factories, perfume factories, and papyrus
factories may be perceived in a suburban quarter.</i></p>
<p><i>Strolling peddlers, porters, ass-drivers run and jostle together.
Here and there one observes some priest of Isis wearing a panther skin
on his shoulders, a Roman soldier with<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</SPAN></span> his bronze helmet, and many
negroes. At the thresholds of the shops women pause, artisans ply their
trades; and the grinding noise of chariot wheels puts to flight the
birds that devour the detritus of the butcher-shops and the morsels of
fish left upon the ground.</i></p>
<p><i>The general outline of the streets seems like a black network flung
upon the white uniformity of the houses. The markets stocked with
herbs make green bouquets in the midst of it; the drying-yards of the
dyers, blotches of color; the golden ornaments of the temple-pediments,
luminous points—all comprised within the oval enclosure of the grey
ramparts, under the vault of the blue heaven, beside the motionless
sea.</i></p>
<p><i>But suddenly the movement of the crowd ceases; all turn their
eyes toward the west, whence enormous whirlwinds of dust are seen
approaching.</i></p>
<p><i>It is the coming of the monks of the Thebaid, all clad in goatskins,
armed with cudgels, roaring a canticle of battle and of faith with the
refrain</i>:</p>
<p>"Where are they? Where are they?"</p>
<p><i>Anthony understands that they are coming to kill the Arians.</i></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><i>The streets are suddenly emptied—only flying feet are visible.</i></p>
<p><i>The Solitaries are now in the city. Their formidable cudgels, studded
with nails, whirl in the air like suns of steel. The crash of things
broken in the houses is heard. There are intervals of silence. Then
great screams arise.</i></p>
<p><i>From one end of the street to the other there is a continual eddy of
terrified people.</i></p>
<p><i>Many grasp pikes. Sometimes two bands meet, rush into one; and this
mass of men slips upon the pavement—fighting, disjointing, knocking
down. But the men with the long hair always reappear.</i></p>
<p><i>Threads of smoke begin to escape from the corners of edifices! folding
doors burst open. Portions of walls crumble down. Architraves fall.</i></p>
<p><i>Anthony finds all his enemies again, one after the other. He even
recognizes some whom he had altogether forgotten; before killing them
he outrages them. He disembowels—he severs throats—he fells as in
a slaughter house—he hales old men by the beard, crushes children,
smites the wounded. And vengeance is taken upon luxury, those<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</SPAN></span> who
do not know how to read tear up hooks; others smash and deface the
statues, paintings, furniture, caskets,—a thousand dainty things
the use of which they do not know, and which simply for that reason
exasperates them. At intervals they pause, out of breath, in the work
of destruction; then they recommence.</i></p>
<p><i>The inhabitants moan in the courtyards where they have sought refuge.
The women raise their tearful eyes and lift their naked arms to heaven.
In hope of moving the Solitaries they embrace their knees; the men cast
them off and fling them down, and the blood gushes to the ceilings,
falls back upon the walls like sheets of rain, streams from the trunks
of decapitated corpses, fills the aqueducts, forms huge red pools upon
the ground.</i></p>
<p><i>Anthony is up to his knees in it. He wades in it; he sucks up the
blood-spray on his lips; he is thrilled with joy as he feels it upon
his limbs, under his hair-tunic which is soaked through with it.</i></p>
<p><i>Night comes. The immense uproar dies away.</i></p>
<p><i>The Solitaries have disappeared.</i></p>
<p><i>Suddenly, upon the outer galleries corresponding<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</SPAN></span> to each of the nine
stories of the Pharos, Anthony observes thick black lines forming, like
lines of crows perching. He hurries thither; and soon finds himself at
the summit.</i></p>
<p><i>A huge mirror of brass turned toward the open sea, reflects the forms
of the vessels in the offing.</i></p>
<p><i>Anthony amuses himself by watching them; and while he watches, their
number increases.</i></p>
<p><i>They are grouped together within a gulf which has the form of a
crescent. Upon a promontory in the background, towers a new city of
Roman architecture, with cupolas of stone, conical roofs, gleams of
pink and blue marbles, and a profusion of brazen ornamentation applied
to the volutes of the capitals, to the angles of the cornices, to the
summits of the edifices. A cypress-wood overhangs the city. The line of
the sea is greener, the air colder. The mountains lining the horizon
are capped with snow.</i></p>
<p><i>Anthony is trying to find his way, when a man approaches him, and
says</i>:</p>
<p>"Come! they are waiting for you."</p>
<p><i>He traverses a forum, enters a great court, stoops beneath a low
door; and he arrives before<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</SPAN></span> the facade of the palace, decorated
with a group in wax, representing Constantine overcoming a dragon.
There is a porphyry basin, from the centre of which rises a golden
conch-shell full of nuts. His guide tells him that he may take some of
them. He does so. Then he is lost, as it were, in a long succession of
apartments.</i></p>
<p><i>There are mosaics upon the walls representing generals presenting
the Emperor with conquered cities, which they hold out upon the
palms of their hands. And there are columns of basalt everywhere,
trellis-work in silver filigree, ivory chairs, tapestries embroidered
with pearls. The light falls from the vaults above; Anthony still
proceeds. Warm exhalations circulate about him; occasionally he hears
the discreet clapping sound of sandals upon the pavement. Posted in
the anti-chambers are guards, who resemble automata, holding wands of
vermillion upon their shoulders.</i></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="redon03"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/redon_03.jpg" width-obs="600" alt="" /> <div class="caption"><p>And there are columns of basalt everywhere,... The light falls from the vaults above</p>
</div>
</div>
<p class="p2"><i>At last he finds himself in a great hall, with hyacinth-colored
curtains at the further end. They part, and display the Emperor seated
on a throne, clad in a violet tunic, and wearing red shoes striped with
bands of black.</i></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><i>A diadem of pearls surround his head; his locks are arranged
symmetrically in rouleaux. He has a straight nose, drooping eyelids,
a heavy and cunning physiognomy. At the four corners of the dais
stretched above his head are placed four golden doves; and at the foot
of the throne are two lions in enamel crouching. The doves begin to
sing, the lions to roar. The Emperor rolls his eyes; Anthony advances;
and forthwith, without preamble, they commence to converse about
recent events. In the cities of Antioch, Ephesus, and Alexandria,
the temples have been sacked, and the statues of the gods converted
into pots and cooking utensils; the Emperor laughs heartily about it.
Anthony reproaches him with his tolerance toward the Novations. But the
Emperor becomes vexed. Novations, Arians or Meletians—he is sick of
them all! Nevertheless, he admires the episcopate; for inasmuch as the
Christians maintain bishops, who depend for their position upon five or
six important personages, it is only necessary to gain over the latter,
in order to have all the rest on one's side. Therefore he did not fail
to furnish them with large<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</SPAN></span> sums. But he detests the Fathers of the
Council of Nicæa.</i></p>
<p>"Let us go and see them!"</p>
<p><i>Anthony follows him.</i></p>
<p><i>And they find themselves on a terrace, upon the same floor.</i></p>
<p><i>It overlooks a hippodrome thronged with people, and surmounted by
porticoes where other spectators are walking to and fro. From the
centre of the race-course rises a narrow platform of hewn stone,
supporting a little temple of Mercury, the statue of Constantine, and
three serpents of brass twisted into a column; there are three huge
wooden eggs at one end, and at the other a group of seven dolphins with
their tails in the air.</i></p>
<p><i>Behind the imperial pavilion sit the Prefects of the Chambers, the
Counts of the Domestics, and the Patricians—in ranks rising by tiers
to the first story of a church whose windows are thronged with women.
On the right is the tribune of the Blue Faction; on the left, that of
the Green; below, a picket of soldiers is stationed; and on a level
with the arena is a row of Corinthian arches, forming the entrances to
the stables.</i></p>
<p><i>The races are about to commence; the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</SPAN></span> horses are drawn up in line.
Lofty plumes, fastened between their ears, bend to the wind like
saplings; and with every restive bound, they shake their chariots
violently, which are shell-shaped, and conducted by charioteers clad
in a sort of multi-colored cuirass, having sleeves tight at the wrist
and wide in the arms; their legs are bare; their beards, faces and
foreheads are shaven after the manner of the Huns.</i></p>
<p><i>Anthony is at first deafened by the billowy sound of voices. From
the summit of the hippodrome to its lowest tiers, he sees only faces
painted with rouge, garments checkered and variegated with many colors,
flashing jewelry; and the sand of the arena, all white, gleams like a
mirror.</i></p>
<p><i>The Emperor entertains him. He confides to him many matters of high
importance, many secrets; he confesses the assassination of his son
Criopus, and even asks Anthony for advice regarding his health.</i></p>
<p><i>Meanwhile Anthony notices some slaves in the rear portion of the
stables below. They are the Fathers of Nicæa, ragged and abject. The
martyr Paphnutius is brushing the mane of one horse; Theophilus is
washing the legs<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</SPAN></span> of another; John is painting the hoofs of a third;
Alexander is collecting dung in a basket.</i></p>
<p><i>Anthony passes through the midst of them. They range themselves on
either side respectfully; they beseech his intercession; they kiss his
hands. The whole assemblage of spectators hoots at them; and he enjoys
the spectacle with immeasurable pleasure. Lo! he is now one of the
grandees of the Court—the Emperor's confidant—the prime minister!
Constantine places his own diadem upon his brows. Anthony allows it to
remain upon his head, thinking this honor quite natural.</i></p>
<p><i>And suddenly in the midst of the darkness a vast hall appears,
illuminated by golden candelabra.</i></p>
<p><i>Candles so lofty that they are half lost in the darkness, stretch away
in huge files beyond the lines of banquet-tables, which seem to extend
to the horizon, where through a luminous haze loom superpositions of
stairways, suites of arcades, colossi, towers, and beyond all a vague
border of palace walls, above which rise the crests of cedars, making
yet blacker masses of blackness against the darkness.</i></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><i>The guests, crowned with violet wreaths, recline upon very low couches
and are leaning upon their elbows. Along the whole length of this
double line of couches, wine is being poured out from amphoræ, and at
the further end, all alone, coiffed with the tiara and blazing with
carbuncles, King Nebuchadnezzar eats and drinks.</i></p>
<p><i>On his right and left, two bands of priests in pointed caps are
swinging censers. On the pavement below crawl the captive kings whose
hands and feet have been cut off; from time to time he flings them
bones to gnaw. Further off sit his brothers, with bandages across their
eyes, being all blind.</i></p>
<p><i>From the depths of the ergastula arise moans of ceaseless pain. Sweet
slow sounds of a hydraulic organ alternate with choruses of song; and
one feels that all about the palace without extends an immeasurable
city—an ocean of human life whose waves break against the walls. The
slaves run hither and thither carrying dishes. Women walk between the
ranks of guests, offering drinks to all; the baskets groan under their
burthen of loaves; and a dromedary, laden with perforated water-skins:
passes and repasses through<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</SPAN></span> the hall, sprinkling and cooling the
pavement with vervain.</i></p>
<p><i>Lion tamers are leading tamed lions about. Dancing girls—their
hair confined in nets—balance themselves and turn upon their hands,
emitting fire through their nostrils; negro boatmen are juggling; naked
children pelt each other with pellets of snow, which burst against the
bright silverware. There is an awful clamor as of a tempest; and a huge
cloud hangs over the banquet—so numerous are the meats and breaths.
Sometimes a flake of fire torn from the great flambeaux by the wind,
traverses the night like a shooting star.</i></p>
<p><i>The king wipes the perfumes from his face with his arm. He eats from
the sacred vessels—then breaks them; and secretly reckons up the
number of his fleets, his armies, and his subjects. By and by, for a
new caprice, he will burn his palace with all its guests. He dreams of
rebuilding the tower of Babel, and dethroning God.</i></p>
<p><i>Anthony, from afar off, reads all these thoughts upon his brow. They
penetrate his own brain, and he becomes Nebuchadnezzar. Immediately he
is cloyed with orgiastic excesses,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</SPAN></span> sated with fury of extermination;
and a great desire comes upon him to wallow in vileness. For the
degradation of that which terrifies men is an outrage inflicted upon
their minds—it affords yet one more way to stupefy them; and as
nothing is viler than a brute, Anthony goes upon the table on all
fours, and bellows like a bull.</i></p>
<p><i>He feels a sudden pain in his hand—a pebble has accidentally wounded
him—and he finds himself once more in front of his cabin.</i></p>
<p><i>The circle of the rocks is empty. The stars are glowing in the sky.
All is hushed.</i>)</p>
<p>"Again have I allowed myself to be deceived! Why these things? They
come from the rebellion of the flesh. Ah! wretch!"</p>
<p>(<i>He rushes into his cabin, and seizes a bunch of thongs, with metallic
hooks attached to their ends, strips himself to the waist and, lifting
his eyes to heaven exclaims</i>:)</p>
<p>"Accept my penance, O my God: disdain it not for its feebleness. Render
it sharp, prolonged, excessive! It is time, indeed!—to the work!"</p>
<p>(<i>He gives himself a vigorous lash—and shrieks.</i>)</p>
<p>"No! no!—without mercy it must be."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>(<i>He recommences.</i>)</p>
<p>"Oh! oh! oh! each lash tears my skin, rends my limbs! It burns me
horribly!"</p>
<p>"Nay!—it is not so very terrible after all!—one becomes accustomed to
it. It even seems to me...."</p>
<p>(<i>Anthony pauses.</i>)</p>
<p>"Continue, coward! continue! Good! good!—upon the arms, on the back,
on the breast, on the belly—everywhere! Hiss, ye thongs! bite me!
tear me! I would that my blood could spurt to the stars!—let my bones
crack!—let my tendons be laid bare! O for pincers, racks, and melted
lead! The martyrs have endured far worse; have they not, Ammonaria?"</p>
<p>(<i>The shadow of the Devil's horns reappears.</i>)</p>
<p>"I might have been bound to the column opposite to thine,—face to
face—under thy eyes—answering thy shrieks by my sighs; and our pangs
might have been interblended, our souls intermingled."</p>
<p>(<i>He lashes himself with fury.</i>)</p>
<p>"What! what! again. Take that!—But how strange a titillation thrills
me! What punishment! what pleasure! I feel as though<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</SPAN></span> receiving
invisible kisses; the very marrow of my bones seems to melt. I die...."</p>
<p><i>And he sees before him three cavaliers, mounted upon onagers, clad in
robes of green—each holding a lily in his hand, and all resembling
each other in feature.</i></p>
<p><i>Anthony turns round, and beholds three other cavaliers exactly
similar, riding upon similar onagers, and preserving the same attitude.</i></p>
<p><i>He draws back. Then all the onagers advance one pace at the same time,
and rub their noses against him, trying to bite his garment. Voices
shout</i>:—</p>
<p>"Here! here! this way!"</p>
<p><i>And between the clefts of the mountain, appear standards,—camels'
heads with halters of red silk—mules laden with baggage, and women
covered with yellow veils, bestriding piebald horses.</i></p>
<p><i>The panting beasts lie down; the slaves rush to the bales and
packages, motley-striped carpets are unrolled; precious glimmering
things are laid upon the ground.</i></p>
<p><i>A white elephant, caparisoned with a golden net, trots forward,
shaking the tuft of ostrich plumes attached to his head-band.</i></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><i>Upon his back, perched on cushions of blue wool, with her legs
crossed, her eyes half closed, her comely head sleepily nodding, is a
woman so splendidly clad that she radiates light about her. The crowd
falls prostrate; the elephant bends his knees; and</i></p>
<p class="smcap" style="text-align: center;">The Queen of Sheba</p>
<p><i>letting herself glide down from his shoulder upon the carpets spread
to receive her, approaches Saint Anthony.</i></p>
<p><i>Her robe of gold brocade, regularly divided by furbelows of pearls,
of jet, and of sapphires, sheaths her figure closely with its
tight-fitting bodice, set off by colored designs representing the
twelve signs of the Zodiac. She wears very high pattens—one of which
is black, and sprinkled with silver stars, with a moon crescent; the
other, which is white, is sprinkled with a spray of gold, with a golden
sun in the middle.</i></p>
<p><i>Her wide sleeves, decorated with emeralds and bird-plumes, leave
exposed her little round bare arms, clasped at the wrist by ebony
bracelets; and her hands, loaded with precious rings, are terminated by
nails so<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</SPAN></span> sharply pointed that the ends of her fingers seem almost like
needles.</i></p>
<p><i>A chain of dead gold, passing under her chin, is caught up on either
side of her face, and spirally coiled about her coiffure, whence,
redescending, it grazes her shoulders and is attached upon her bosom
to a diamond scorpion, which protrudes a jewelled tongue between her
breasts. Two immense blond pearls depend heavily from her ears. The
borders of her eyelids are painted black. There is a natural brown spot
upon her left cheek; and she opens her mouth in breathing, as if her
corset inconvenienced her.</i></p>
<p><i>She shakes, as she approaches, a green parasol with an ivory handle,
and silver-gilt bells attached to its rim; twelve little woolly-haired
negro-boys support the long train of her robe, whereof an ape holds the
extremity, which it raises up from time to time. She exclaims</i>:</p>
<p>"Ah! handsome hermit! handsome hermit!—my heart swoons!</p>
<p>"By dint of stamping upon the ground with impatience, callosities have
formed upon my heel, and I have broken one of my nails. I sent out
shepherds, who remained upon the mountain tops, shading their eyes with
their<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</SPAN></span> hands—and hunters who shouted thy name in all the forests—and
spies who travelled along the highways, asking every passer-by:</p>
<p>"'Hast thou seen him?'</p>
<p>"By night I wept, with my face turned to the wall. And at last my tears
made two little holes in the mosaic, like two pools of water among the
rocks;—for I love thee!—oh! how I love thee!"</p>
<p>(<i>She takes him by the beard.</i>)</p>
<p>"Laugh now, handsome hermit! laugh! I am very joyous, very gay: thou
shalt soon see! I play the lyre; I dance like a bee; and I know a host
of merry tales to tell, each more diverting than the other.</p>
<p>"Thou canst not even imagine how mighty a journey we have made. See!
the onagers upon which the green couriers rode are dead with fatigue!"</p>
<p>(<i>The onagers are lying motionless upon the ground.</i>)</p>
<p>"For three long moons they never ceased to gallop on with the same
equal pace, holdings flints between their teeth to cut the wind, their
tails ever streaming out behind them, their sinews perpetually strained
to the uttermost, always galloping, galloping. Never<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</SPAN></span> can others be
found like them. They were bequeathed me by my paternal grand-father,
the Emperor Saharil, son of Iakhschab, son of Iaarab, son of Kastan.
Ah! if they were still alive, we should harness them to a litter that
they might bear us back speedily to the palace! But ... what ails
thee?—of what art thou dreaming?"</p>
<p>(<i>She stares at him, examines him closely.</i>)</p>
<p>"Ah, when thou shalt be my husband, I will robe thee, I will perfume
thee, I will depilate thee."</p>
<p>(<i>Anthony remains motionless, more rigid than a stake, more pallid
than a corpse.</i>)</p>
<p>"Thou hast a sad look—is it because of leaving thy hermitage? Yet I
have left everything for thee—even King Solomon, who, nevertheless,
possesses much wisdom, twenty thousand chariots of war, and a beautiful
beard. I have brought thee my wedding gifts. Choose!"</p>
<p>(<i>She walks to and fro among the ranks of slaves and the piles of
precious goods.</i>)</p>
<p>"Here is Genezareth balm, incense from Cape Gardefui, labdanum,
cinnamon, and silphium—good to mingle with sauces. In that bale are
Assyrian embroideries, ivory<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</SPAN></span> from the Ganges, purple from Elissa;
and that box of snow contains a skin of chalybon, the wine, which
is reserved for the Kings of Assyria, and which is drunk from the
horn of a unicorn. Here are necklaces, brooches, nets for the hair,
parasols, gold powder from Baasa, cassiteria from Tartessus, blue wood
from Pandio, white furs from Issidonia, carbuncles from the Island
Palæsimondus, and toothpicks made of the bristles of the tachas—that
lost animal which is found under the earth. These cushions come from
Emath, and these mantle-fringes from Palmyra. On this Babylonian carpet
there is.... But come hither! come! come!"</p>
<p>(<i>She pulls Saint Anthony by the sleeve. He resists. She continues</i>:)</p>
<p>"This thin tissue which crackles under the finger with a sound as of
sparks, is the famous yellow cloth which the merchants of Bactria bring
us. I will have robes made of it for thee, which thou shalt wear in the
house. Unfasten the hooks of that sycamore box, and hand me also the
little ivory casket tied to my elephant's shoulder."</p>
<p>(<i>They take something round out of a box—something covered with a
cloth—and also<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</SPAN></span> bring a little ivory casket covered with carving.</i>)</p>
<p>"Dost thou desire the buckler of Dgian-ben-Dgian, who built the
pyramids?—behold it!—It is formed of seven dragon-skins laid one over
the other, tanned in the bile of parricides, and fastened together by
adamantine screws. Upon one side are represented all the wars that have
taken place since the invention of weapons; and upon the other, all the
wars that will take place until the end of the world. The lightning
itself rebounds from it like a ball of cork. I am going to place it
upon thy arm; and thou wilt carry it during the chase.</p>
<p>"But if thou didst only know what I have in this little box of mine!
Turn it over and over again! try to open it! No one could ever succeed
in doing that. Kiss me! and I will tell thee how to open it."</p>
<p>(<i>She takes Saint Anthony by both cheeks. He pushes her away at arms'
length.</i>)</p>
<p>"It was one night that King Solomon lost his head. At last we concluded
a bargain. He arose, and stealing out on tiptoe...."</p>
<p>(<i>She suddenly executes a pirouette.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Ah, ah! comely hermit, thou shalt not know it! thou shalt not know!"</p>
<p>(<i>She shakes her parasol, making all its little bells tinkle.</i>)</p>
<p>"And I possess many other strange things—oh! yes! I have treasures
concealed in winding galleries where one would lose one's way, as
in a forest. I have summer-palaces constructed in trellis-work of
reeds, and winter-palaces all built of black marble. In the midst of
lakes vast as seas, I have islands round as pieces of silver, and all
covered with mother-of-pearl,—islands whose shores make music to
the lapping of tepid waves upon the sand. The slaves of my kitchens
catch birds in my aviaries, and fish in my fishponds. I have engravers
continually seated at their benches to hollow out my likeness in hard
jewel-stones, and panting molders forever casting statues of me, and
perfumers incessantly mingling the sap of rare plants with vinegar,
or preparing cosmetic pastes. I have female dressmakers cutting out
patterns in richest material, goldsmiths cutting and mounting jewels of
price, and careful painters pouring upon my palace wainscoting boiling
resins, which they subsequently cool with<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</SPAN></span> fans. I have enough female
attendants to form a harem, eunuchs enough to make an army. I have
armies likewise; I have nations! In the vestibule of my palace I keep a
guard of dwarfs—all bearing ivory trumpets at their backs." (<i>Anthony
sighs.</i>)</p>
<p>"I have teams of trained gazelles; I have elephant quadrigæ; I have
hundreds of pairs of camels, and mares whose manes are so long that
their hoofs become entangled therein when they gallop, and herds of
cattle with horns so broad that when they go forth to graze the woods
have to be hewn down before them. I have giraffes wandering in my
gardens; they stretch their heads over the edge of my roof, when I take
the air after dinner.</p>
<p>"Seated in a shell drawn over the waters by dolphins, I travel
through the grottoes, listening lo the dropping of the water from the
stalactites. I go down to the land of diamonds, where my friends the
magicians allow me to choose the finest: then I reascend to earth and
return to my home."</p>
<p>(<i>She utters a sharp whistle; and a great bird, descending from the
sky, alights upon<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</SPAN></span> her hair, from which it makes the blue powder fall.</i></p>
<p><i>Its orange-colored plumage seems formed of metallic scales. Its little
head, crested with a silver tuft, has a human face.</i></p>
<p><i>It has four wings, the feet of a vulture, and an immense peacock's
tail which it spreads open like a fan.</i></p>
<p><i>It seizes the Queen's parasol in its beak, reels a moment ere
obtaining its balance; then it erects all its plumes, and remains
motionless.</i>)</p>
<p>"Thanks! my beautiful Simorg-Anka!—thou didst tell me where the loving
one was hiding! Thanks! thanks! my heart's messenger!</p>
<p>"He flies swiftly as Desire! He circles the world in his flight. At eve
he returns; he perches at the foot of my couch and tells me all he has
seen—the seas that have passed far beneath him with all their fishes
and ships, the great void deserts he has contemplated from the heights
of the sky, the harvests that were bowing in the valleys, and the
plants that were growing upon the walls of cities abandoned."</p>
<p>(<i>She wrings her hands, languorously.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Oh! if thou wast willing! if thou wast willing!... I have a pavilion
on a promontory in the middle of an isthmus dividing two oceans. It is
all wain-scoted with sheets of glass, and floored with tortoise shell,
and open to the four winds of heaven. From its height I watch my fleets
come in, and my nations toiling up the mountain-slopes with burthens
upon their shoulders. There would we sleep upon downs softer than
clouds; we would drink cool draughts from fruit-shells, and we would
gaze at the sun through emeralds! Come!" ...</p>
<p>(<i>Anthony draws back. She approaches him again, and exclaims in a tone
of vexation</i>:—)</p>
<p>"How? neither the rich, nor the coquettish, nor the amorous woman can
charm thee: is it so? None but a lascivious woman, with a hoarse voice
and lusty person, with fire-colored hair and superabundant flesh? Dost
thou prefer a body cold as the skin of a serpent, or rather great dark
eyes deeper than the mystic caverns?—behold them, my eyes!—look into
them!"</p>
<p>(<i>Anthony, in spite of him, gazes into her eyes.</i>)</p>
<p>"All the women thou hast ever met—from<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</SPAN></span> the leman of the cross-roads,
singing under the light of her lantern, even to the patrician lady
scattering rose-petals abroad from her litter,—all the forms thou hast
ever obtained glimpses of—all the imaginations of thy desire thou hast
only to ask for them! I am not a woman: I am a world! My cloak has only
to fall in order that thou mayest discover a succession of mysteries."
(<i>Anthony's teeth chatter.</i>)</p>
<p>"Place but thy finger upon my shoulder: it will be as though a stream
of fire shot through all thy veins. The possession of the least part
of me will fill thee with a joy more vehement than the conquest of an
Empire could give thee! Approach thy lips: there is a sweetness in my
kisses as of a fruit dissolving within thy heart. Ah! how thou wilt
lose thyself beneath my long hair, inhale the perfume of my bosom,
madden thyself with the beauty of my limbs: and thus, consumed by the
fire of my eyes, clasped within my arms as in a whirlwind...."</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="redon04"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/redon_04.jpg" width-obs="600" alt="" /> <div class="caption"><p>there is a sweetness in my kisses as of a fruit dissolving within thy heart ...</p>
</div>
</div>
<p class="p2">(<i>Anthony makes the sign of the cross.</i>)</p>
<p>"Thou disdainest me! farewell!"</p>
<p>(<i>She departs, weeping; then, suddenly turning round</i>:—)</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Art quite sure?—so beautiful a woman...."</p>
<p>(<i>She laughs, and the ape that bears her train, lifts it up.</i>)</p>
<p>"Thou wilt regret it, my comely hermit! thou wilt yet weep! thou wilt
again feel weary of thy life; but I care not a whit! La! la! la!—oh!
oh! oh!"</p>
<p>(<i>She takes her departure, hopping upon one foot and covering her face
with her hands.</i></p>
<p><i>All the slaves file off before Saint Anthony—the horses, the
dromedaries, the elephant, the female attendants, the mules (which
have been reloaded), the negro boys, the ape, the green couriers each
holding his broken lily in his hand; and the Queen of Sheba departs,
uttering a convulsive hiccough at intervals, which might be taken
either for a sound of hysterical sobbing, or the half-suppressed
laughter of mockery.</i>)</p>
<hr class="r5" />
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_1_6" id="Footnote_1_6"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_1_6"><span class="label">[1]</span></SPAN> <i>Thalamegii</i>—pleasure-boats having
apartments.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h4><SPAN name="III" id="III">III</SPAN></h4>
<p>(<i>When she has disappeared in the distance, Anthony observes a child
seated upon the threshold of his cabin.</i>)</p>
<p>"It is one of the Queen's servants, no doubt," (<i>he thinks</i>).</p>
<p>(<i>This child is small like a dwarf, and nevertheless squat of build,
like one of the Cabiri; deformed withal, and wretched of aspect. His
prodigiously large head is covered with white hair; and he shivers
under a shabby tunic, all the while clutching a roll of papyrus. The
light of the moon passing through a cloud falls upon him.</i>)</p>
<p class="smcap" style="text-align: center;">Anthony</p>
<p>(<i>watches him from a distance, and is afraid of him.</i>) "Who art thou?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Child</span> (<i>replies</i>). "Thy ancient disciple, Hilarion."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Thou liest! Hilarion hath<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</SPAN></span> been dwelling in Palestine for
many long years."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "I have returned! It is really I!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>draws near and examines him closely</i>). "Yet his face was
radiant as the dawn, candid, joyous. This face is the face of one
gloomy and old."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "Long and arduous labor hath wearied me!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "The voice is also different. It hath an icy tone."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "Because I have nourished me with bitter things!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "And those white hairs?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "I have endured many woes!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>aside</i>). "Could it be possible?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "I was not so far from thee as thou doest imagine. The hermit
Paul visited thee this year, during the month of Schebar. It is just
twenty days since the Nomads brought thee bread. Thou didst tell a
sailor, the day before yesterday, to send thee three bodkins."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "He knows all!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "Know further more that I have never left thee. But there are
long periods<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</SPAN></span> during which thou hast no knowledge of my presence."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "How can that be? Yet it is true that my head is so much
troubled—this night especially."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "All the Capital Sins came hither. But their wretched snares
can avail nothing against such a Saint as thou."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Oh! no!—no! I fall at every moment! Why am I not of those
whose souls are ever intrepid, whose minds are always firm,—for
example, the great Athanasius?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "He was illegally ordained by seven bishops."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "What matter if his virtue...."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "Go to!—a most vainglorious and cruel man, forever involved
in intrigues, and exiled at last as a monopolist."<SPAN name="FNanchor_1_7" id="FNanchor_1_7"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_1_7" class="fnanchor">[1]</SPAN></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Calumny!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "Thou wilt not deny that he sought to corrupt Eustates, the
treasurer of largesses?"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "It is affirmed, I acknowledge."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "Through vengeance he burned down the house of Arsenius."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Alas!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "At the council of Nicæa he said in speaking of Jesus: 'The
man of the Lord.'"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Ah! that is a blasphemy!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "So limited in understanding, moreover, that he confesses he
comprehends nothing of the nature of the "Word!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>smiling with gratification</i>). "In sooth his intelligence is
not ... very lofty."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "Hypocrite! burying thyself in solitude only in order the
more fully to abandon thyself to the indulgence of thy envious desires!
What if thou dost deprive thyself of meats, of wine, of warmth, of
bath, of slaves, or honours?—dost thou not permit thy imagination to
offer thee banquets, perfumes, women, and the applause of multitudes?
Thy chastity is but a more subtle form of corruption, and thy contempt
of this world is but the impotence of thy hatred against it! Either
this it is that makes such as thyself<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</SPAN></span> so lugubrious, or else 'tis
doubt. The possession of truth giveth joy. Was Jesus sad? Did he not
travel in the company of friends, repose beneath the shade of olive
trees, enter the house of the publican, drink many cups of wine, pardon
the sinning woman, and assuage all sorrows? Thou!—thou hast no pity
save for thine own misery! It is like a remorse that gnaws thee, a
savage madness that impels thee to repel the caress of a dog or to
frown upon the smile of a child."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>bursting into tears</i>). "Enough! enough! thou dost wound my
heart deeply."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "Shake the vermin from thy rags! Rise up from thy filth! Thy
God is not a Moloch who demands human flesh in sacrifice!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Yet suffering is blessed. The cherubim stoop to receive the
blood of confessors."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "Admire, then, the Montanists!—they surpass all others."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "But it is the truth of the doctrine which makes the
martyrdom."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "How can martyrdom prove the excellence of the doctrine,
inasmuch as it bears equal witness for error?"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "Silence!—thou viper!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Perhaps martyrdom is not so difficult as thou dost imagine!
The exhortations of friends, the pleasure of insulting the people,
the oath one has taken, a certain dizzy excitement, a thousand
circumstances all aid the resolution of the martyrs...."</p>
<p>(<i>Anthony turns his back upon Hilarion, and moves away from him.
Hilarion follows him.</i>)</p>
<p>" ... Moreover this manner of dying often brings about great disorders.
Dionysius, Cyprian and Gregory fled from it. Peter of Alexandria has
condemned it; and the council of Elvira...."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>stops his ears</i>). "I will listen to thee no longer!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span> (<i>raising his voice</i>). "Lo! thou fallest again into the
habitual sin, which is sloth! Ignorance is the foam of pride. One says,
forsoth:—'My conviction is formed! wherefore argue further?'—and one
despises the doctors, the philosophers, tradition itself, and even the
text of the law whereof one is ignorant! Dost thou imagine that thou
dost hold all wisdom in the hollow of thy hand?"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "I hear him still! His loud words fill my brain."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "The efforts of others to comprehend God are mightier than
all thy mortifications to move Him. We obtain merit only by our thirst
for truth. Religion alone cannot explain all things; and the solution
of problems ignored by thee can render faith still more invulnerable
and noble. Therefore, for our salvation we must communicate with our
brethren—otherwise the Church, the assembly of the faithful, would
be a meaningless word—and we must listen to all reasoning, despising
nothing, nor any person. The magician Balaam, the poet Aeschylus,
and the Sybil of Cumæ—all foretold the Saviour. Dionysius, the
Alexandrian, received from heaven the command to read all books. Saint
Clement orders us to cultivate Greek letters. Hennas was converted by
the illusion of a woman he had loved...."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "What an aspect of authority! It seems to me thou art growing
taller...."</p>
<p>(<i>And, in very truth, the stature of Hilarion is gradually increasing;
and Anthony shuts his eyes, that he may not see him.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "Reassure thyself, good Hermit. Let us seat ourselves there,
upon that great stone, as we used to do in other years, when, at the
first dawn of day, I was wont to salute thee with the appellation,
'Clear star of morning'—and thou wouldst therewith commence to
instruct me. Yet my instruction is not yet completed. The moon gives us
light enough. I am prepared to hear thy words."</p>
<p>(<i>He has drawn a calamus from his girdle, and seating himself
cross-legged upon the ground, with the papyrus roll still in his hand,
he lifts his face toward Saint Anthony, who sits near him, with head
bowed down.</i></p>
<p><i>After a moment of silence Hilarion continues</i>:—)</p>
<p>"Is not the word of God confirmed for us by miracles? Nevertheless
the magicians of Pharaoh performed miracles; other imposters can
perform them; one may be thereby deceived. What then is a miracle?
An event which seems to us outside of nature. But do we indeed know
all of Nature's powers; and because a common occurrence causes us no
astonishment, does it therefore follow that we understand it."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "It matters little! We must believe the Scriptures!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "Saint Paul, Origen, and many others did not understand
the Scriptures in a literal sense: yet if Holy Writ be explained by
allegories it becomes the portion of a small number, and the evidence
of the truth disappears. What must we do?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "We must rely upon the Church!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "Then the Scriptures are useless?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "No! no! although I acknowledge that in the Old Testament
there are some ... some obscurities. But the New shines with purest
light."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "Nevertheless, the Angel of the annunciation, in Matthew,
appears to Joseph; while, in Luke, he appears to Mary. The anointing
of Jesus by a woman takes place, according to the first Gospel, at the
commencement of his public life; and, according to the other three, a
few days before his death. The drink offered to him on the cross, is,
in Matthew, vinegar mixed with gall; in Mark, it is wine and myrrh.
According to Luke and Matthew, the apostles should take<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</SPAN></span> with them
neither money nor scrip for their journey—not even sandals nor staff;
in Mark, on the contrary, Jesus bids them take nothing with them,
except sandals and a staff. I am thereby bewildered!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>in amazement</i>). "Aye, indeed!... in fact...."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "At the contact of the woman who had an issue of blood, Jesus
turned and said, 'Who hath touched my garments?' He did not know, then,
who had touched him? That contradicts the omniscience of Jesus! If the
tomb was watched by guards, the women need have felt no anxiety about
finding help to roll away the stone from the tomb. Therefore there
were no guards, or the holy women were not there. At Emmaus, he eats
with his disciples and makes them feel his wounds. It is a human body,
a material and ponderable object; and nevertheless it passes through
walls! Is that possible?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "It would require much time to answer thee properly!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "Why did he receive the Holy Spirit, being himself Son of
the Holy Spirit? What need had he of baptism if he was the Word? How
could the Devil have tempted<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</SPAN></span> him, inasmuch as he was God? Have these
thoughts never occurred to thee?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Yes!... often! Sometimes torpid, sometimes furious—they
remain forever in my conscience. I crush them; they rise again, they
stifle me; and sometimes I think that I am accursed."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "Then it is needless for thee to serve God?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "I shall always need to adore Him."</p>
<p>(<i>After a long silence Hilarion continues</i>:)</p>
<p>"But aside from dogma, all researches are allowed us. Dost thou desire
to know the hierarchy of the Angels, the virtue of the Numbers, the
reason of germs and of metamorphoses?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Yes! yes! my thought struggles wildly to escape from its
prison. It seems to me that by exerting all my force I might succeed.
Sometimes, for an instant, brief as a lightning flash, I even feel
myself as thought uplifted,—then I fall back again!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "The secret thou wouldst obtain is guarded by sages. They
dwell in a distant land; they are seated beneath giant trees; they
are robed in white; they are calm<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</SPAN></span> as Gods! A warm air gives them
sufficient nourishment. All about them, leopards tread upon grassy
turf. The murmuring of fountains and the neighing of unicorns mingle
with their voices. Thou shalt hear them; and the face of the Unknown
shall be unveiled!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>sighing</i>). "The way is long; and I am old."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "Oh! oh! wise men are not rare! there are some even very nigh
thee!—here! Let us enter!"</p>
<hr class="r5" />
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_1_7" id="Footnote_1_7"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_1_7"><span class="label">[1]</span></SPAN> Gibbon, a sincere admirer of Athanasius, gives a curious
history of these charges, and expresses his disbelief in their
truth. The story regarding the design to intercept the corn-fleet of
Alexandria is referred to in the use of the word "monopolist."</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h4><SPAN name="IV" id="IV">IV</SPAN></h4>
<p>(<i>And Anthony beholds before him a vast basilica.</i></p>
<p><i>The light gushes from the further end, marvellous as a multi-colored
sun. It illuminates the innumerable heads of the crowd that fills the
nave, and that eddies about the columns toward the side-aisles—where
can be perceived, in wooden compartments, altars, beds, little chains
of blue stones linked together, and constellations painted upon the
walls.</i></p>
<p><i>In the midst of the throng there are groups which remain motionless.
Men standing upon stools harangue with fingers uplifted; others are
praying, with arms outstretched in form of a cross; others are lying
prostrate upon the pavement, or singing hymns, or drinking wine; others
of the faithful, seated about a table, celebrate their agape;<SPAN name="FNanchor_1_8" id="FNanchor_1_8"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_1_8" class="fnanchor">[1]</SPAN>
martyrs are unbandaging their limbs in order to show their wounds; and
aged men, leaning upon staffs, recount their voyages.</i></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><i>There are some from the country of the Germans, from Thrace also, and
from the Gauls, from Scythia and from the Indies, with snow upon their
beards, feathers in their hair; thorns in the fringe of their garments;
the sandals of some are black with dust, their skins are burnt by the
sun. There is a vast confusion of costumes, mantles of purple and
robes of linen, embroidered dalmaticas, hair shirts, sailors' caps,
bishops' mitres. Their eyes fulgurate strangely. They have the look of
executioners, or the look of eunuchs.</i></p>
<p><i>Hilarion advances into their midst. All salute him. Anthony, shrinking
closer to his shoulder, observes them. He remarks the presence of a
great many women. Some of these are attired like men, and have their
hair cut short. Anthony feels afraid of them.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "Those are Christian women who have converted their husbands.
Besides, the women were always upon the side of Jesus, even the
idolatrous ones, for example, Procula, the wife of Pilate, and Poppæa,
the concubine of Nero. Do not tremble!—come on."</p>
<p>(<i>And others are continually arriving.</i></p>
<p><i>They seem to multiply, to double themselves<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</SPAN></span> by self-division, light
as shadows—all the while making an immense clamour, in which yells of
rage, cries of love, canticles and objurgations intermingle.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>in a low voice</i>). "What do they desire?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "The Lord said: 'I have yet many things to say to you....
'<SPAN name="FNanchor_2_9" id="FNanchor_2_9"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_2_9" class="fnanchor">[2]</SPAN> They possess the knowledge of those things."</p>
<p>(<i>And he pushes Anthony forward to a golden throne approached by five
steps, whereon—surrounded by ninety-five disciples, all very thin and
pale, and anointed with oil—sits the prophet Manes. He is beautiful
as an archangel, immobile as a statue; he is clad in an Indian robe;
carbuncles gleam in his plaited hair; at his left hand lies a book of
painted images; his right reposes upon a globe. The images represent
the creatures that erst slumbered in Chaos. Anthony bends forward to
look upon them. Then——</i>)</p>
<p class="smcap" style="text-align: center;">Manes</p>
<p>(<i>makes his globe revolve; and regulating the tone of his words by a
lyre which gives forth crystalline sounds, exclaims</i>:—)</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"The celestial earth is at the superior extremity; the terrestrial
earth at the inferior extremity. It is sustained by two angels—the
Angel Splenditeneus, and Omophorus, whose faces are six.</p>
<p>"At the summit of the highest heaven reigns the impassible Divinity;
below, face to face, are the Son of God and the Prince of Darkness.</p>
<p>"When the darkness had advanced even to his kingdom, God evolved from
his own essence a virtue which produced the first man; and he environed
him with the five elements. But the demons of darkness stole from him a
part; and that part is the soul.</p>
<p>"There is but one soul, universally diffused, even as the waters of
a river divided into many branches. It is this universal soul that
sighs in the wind—that shrieks in the marble under the teeth of the
saw—that roars in the voice of the sea—that weeps tears of milk when
the leaves of the fig tree are torn off.</p>
<p>"The souls that leave this world emigrate to the stars, which are
themselves animated beings."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>bursts into a laugh</i>). "Ah! ah! what an absurd imagination!"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">A Man</span> (<i>having no beard, and of a most austere aspect</i>). "Wherefore
absurd?"</p>
<p>(<i>Anthony is about to reply when Hilarion tells him in a low voice
that the questioner is none other than the tremendous Origen himself;
and</i>:—)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Manes</span> (<i>continues</i>). "But first they remain awhile in the Moon, where
they are purified. Then they rise into the sun."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>slowly</i>). "I do not know of anything ... which prevents us
... from believing it."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Manes</span>. "The proper aim of every creature is the deliverance of the ray
of celestial light imprisoned within matter. It finds easier escape
through the medium of perfumes, spices, the aroma of warmed wine, the
light things which resemble thoughts. But the acts of life retain it
within its prison. The murderer shall be born again in the form of a
celephus; he that kills an animal shall become that animal; if thou
plantest a vine, thou shalt be thyself bound within its boughs. Food
absorbs the celestial light.... Therefore abstain! fast!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "Thou seest, they are temperate!"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Manes</span>. "There is much of it in meats, less of it in herbs. Moreover
the Pure Ones, by means of their great merits, despoil vegetation of
this luminous essence; and, thus liberated, it reascends to its source.
But through generation, animals keep it imprisoned within the flesh!
Therefore, avoid women!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "Admire their continence."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Manes</span>. "Or rather contrive that they shall not create..............<SPAN name="FNanchor_3_10" id="FNanchor_3_10"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_3_10" class="fnanchor">[3]</SPAN></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Oh—abomination!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "What signifies the hierarchy of turpitudes? The Church has,
forsooth, made marriage a sacrament!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Saturninus</span> (<i>in Syrian costume</i>). "He teaches a most dismal system of
the universe!... The Father, desiring to punish the angels who had
revolted, ordered them to create the world. Christ came, in order that
the God of the Jews, who was one of those angels...."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "He an angel! the Creator!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Cerdo</span>. "Did he not seek to kill Moses, to deceive his own prophets, to
seduce nations?—did<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</SPAN></span> he not sow falsehood and idolatry broadcast?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Marcion</span>. "Certainly, the Creator is not the true God!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Saint Clement of Alexandria</span>. "Matter is eternal!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bardesanes</span> (<i>in the costume of the Babylonian magi</i>). "It was formed by
the Seven Planetary Spirits."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Hermians</span>. "Souls were made by the angels."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Priscillianists</span>. "It was the Devil who made the world."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>rushing back from the circle</i>). "Horror!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span> (<i>supporting him</i>). "Thou despairest too hastily!—thou dost
misapprehend their doctrine! Here is one who received his teaching
directly from Theodas, the friend of St. Paul. Hearken to him."</p>
<p>(<i>And at a sign from Hilarion</i></p>
<p><span class="smcap" style="text-align: center;">Valentinus</span></p>
<p><i>appears in a tunic of cloth of silver; his skull is pointed at its
summit; his voice has a wheezing sound.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"The world is the work of a God in delirium!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>bending his head down</i>). "The work of a God in delirium!..."</p>
<p>(<i>After a long silence</i>): "How can that be?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Valentine</span>. "The most perfect of beings, and of the Æons, the Abyss;
dwelt in the womb of the Deep together with Thought. By their union was
begotten Intelligence, to whom Truth was given as a companion.</p>
<p>"Intelligence and Truth engendered the Word and Life, who in their turn
begat Man and the Church; and that doth make eight Æons!"</p>
<p>(<i>He counts upon his fingers.</i>)</p>
<p>"The Word and Truth also produced ten other Æons—which is to say, five
couples. Man and the Church had begotten twelve more—among these the
Paraclete and Faith, Hope and Charity, Perfection and Wisdom—Sophia.</p>
<p>"The union of these thirty Æons constitutes the Pleroma, or
Universality of God. Thus, even as the echo of a passing voice, as the
effluvia of a perfume evaporating, as the fires of the setting sun,
the Powers that<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</SPAN></span> emanated from the Principle, forever continue to grow
weaker.</p>
<p>"But Sophia, desirous to know the Father, darted from the Pleroma;
and the Word then made another couple, Christ and the Holy Ghost, who
reunited all the Æons; and all together formed Jesus, the flower of the
Pleroma.</p>
<p>"But the effort of Sophia to flee away had left in the void an image of
her—an evil substance, Acharamoth.<SPAN name="FNanchor_4_11" id="FNanchor_4_11"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_4_11" class="fnanchor">[4]</SPAN> The Saviour took pity upon her,
freed her from all passion; and from the smile of Acharamoth redeemed,
light was born; her tears formed the waters; by her sorrow was dark
matter begotten.</p>
<p>"Of Acharamoth was born the Demiurgos,—the fabricator of worlds,
the creator of the heaven and of the Devil. He dwells far below the
Pleroma—so far that he cannot behold it—so that he deems himself to
be the true God, and repeats by the mouths of his prophets—'There is
no other God but I.' Then he made man, and instilled into his soul the
immaterial Seed which was the Church—a<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</SPAN></span> reflection of the other Church
established in the Pleroma.</p>
<p>"One day Acharamoth shall reach the highest region and unite herself
with the Saviour; the fire that is hidden in the world shall annihilate
all matter, and shall even devour itself and men, becoming pure
spirits, shall espouse the angels!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Origen</span>. "Then shall the Demon be over-thrown and the reign of God
commence!"</p>
<p>(<i>Anthony expresses a cry, and forthwith</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Basilides</span> (<i>taking him by the elbow, exclaims</i>:—)</p>
<p>"The Supreme Being with all the infinite emanations is called
Abraxas; and the Saviour with all his virtues, Kaulakau—otherwise,
line-upon-line, rectitude upon rectitude.</p>
<p>"The power of Kaulakau is obtained by the aid of certain words, which
are inscribed upon this chalcedony to help the memory."</p>
<p>(<i>And he points to a little stone suspended at his neck, upon which
stone fantastic characters are graven.</i>)</p>
<p>"Then thou wilt be transported into the Invisible and placed above all
law; thou shalt contemn all things—even virtue!</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"We, the Pure, must flee from pain, after the example of Kaulakau."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "What! and the cross?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Elkhesaites</span> (<i>in robes of hyacinth answers him</i>). "The woe and
the degradation, the condemnation and oppression of my fathers<SPAN name="FNanchor_5_12" id="FNanchor_5_12"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_5_12" class="fnanchor">[5]</SPAN> are
blotted out, through the mission which has come.</p>
<p>"One may deny the inferior Christ, the man—Jesus; but the other Christ
must be adored—whose personality was evolved under the brooding of the
Dove's wings.</p>
<p>"Honor marriage; the Holy Spirit is feminine!"</p>
<p>(<i>Hilarion has disappeared; and Anthony, carried along by the crowd,
arrives in the presence of</i>—)</p>
<p class="smcap" style="text-align: center;">The Carpocratians</p>
<p>(<i>reclining with women upon scarlet cushions.</i>)</p>
<p>"Before entering into the Only thou shalt pass through a series of
conditions and of actions. To free thyself from the powers of darkness,
thou must at once accomplish their<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</SPAN></span> works. The husband shall say to the
wife: 'Have charity for thy brother'—and she will kiss thee."</p>
<p class="smcap" style="text-align: center;">The Nicolaitans</p>
<p>(<i>gathered about a mass of smoking meats</i>:)</p>
<p>"This is a portion of the meat offered to idols;—partake of it!
Apostasy is permissible when the heart is pure. Gorge thy flesh with
all that it demands. Seek to exterminate it by dint of debauchery!
Prounikos, the Mother of Heaven, wallowed in ignominies."</p>
<p class="smcap" style="text-align: center;">The Marcosians</p>
<p>(<i>wearing rings of gold, and glistening with precious balm and
unguents</i>:)</p>
<p>"Enter among us that thou mayst unite thyself to the Spirit! Enter
among us that thou mayst quaff the draught of immortality!"</p>
<p>(<i>And one of them shows him, behind a tapestry-hanging, the body of a
man terminated by the head of an ass. This represents Sabaoth, father
of the Devil. He spits upon the image in token of detestation.</i></p>
<p><i>Another shows him a very low bed, strewn with flowers, exclaiming</i>:)</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"The spiritual marriage is about to be consummated."</p>
<p>(<i>A third, who holds a cup of glass, utters an invocation;—blood
suddenly appears in the cup</i>:)</p>
<p>"Ah! behold it! behold it!—the blood of Christ!"</p>
<p>(<i>Anthony withdraws, but finds himself be-spattered by water splashed
from a cistern.</i>)</p>
<p class="smcap" style="text-align: center;">The Helvidians</p>
<p>(<i>are flinging themselves into it head foremost, muttering</i>:—)</p>
<p>"The man regenerated by baptism is impeccable!"</p>
<p>(<i>Then he passes by a great fire at which the Adamites are warming
themselves—all completely naked in imitation of the purity of
Paradise; and he stumbles over</i>)</p>
<p class="smcap" style="text-align: center;">The Messalines</p>
<p>(<i>wallowing upon the pavement, half-slumbering, stupid</i>:)</p>
<p>"Oh! crush us if thou wilt! we shall not move! Work is crime; all
occupation is evil."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>(<i>Behind these, the abject</i>)</p>
<p class="smcap" style="text-align: center;">Paternians</p>
<p>(<i>—men, women, and children lying pell mell upon a heap of filth, lift
their hideous faces, wine-besmeared, and they cry aloud</i>:)</p>
<p>"The inferior parts of the body, which were created by the Devil,
belong to him! Let us eat, drink, and sin!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Ætius</span>. "Crimes are necessities beneath the notice of God!"</p>
<p>(<i>But suddenly</i>—)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">A Man</span> (—<i>clad in a Carthaginian mantle, bounds into their midst,
brandishing a scourge of thongs in his hand; and strikes violently and
indiscriminately at all in his path</i>:)</p>
<p>"Ah! imposters! simonists, heretics and demons!—vermin of the
schools!—dregs of hell! Marcion, there, is a sailor of Sinopus
excommunicated for incest;—Carpocrates was banished for being a
magician; Ætius stole his concubine; Nicholas prostituted his wife;
and this Manes, who calls himself the Buddha, and whose real name is
Cubricus, was flayed alive with the point of a reed,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</SPAN></span> so that his skin
even now hangs at the gates of Ctesiphon!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>recognizing Tertullian, rushes to join him</i>): "Master! help!
help!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Tertullian</span> (<i>continuing</i>):</p>
<p>"Break the images! veil the virgins! Pray, fast, weep and mortify
yourselves! No philosophy! no books! After Jesus, science is useless!"</p>
<p>(<i>All have fled away; and Anthony beholds, in lieu of Tertullian, a
woman seated upon a bench of stone.</i></p>
<p><i>She sobs; leaning her head against a column; her hair is loose; her
body, weakened by grief, is clad in a long brown simar. Then they find
themselves face to face and alone, far from the crowd; and a silence,
an extraordinary stillness falls—as in the woods when the winds are
lulled, and the leaves of the trees suddenly cease to whisper.</i></p>
<p><i>This woman is still very beautiful, although faded, and pale as a
sepulcher. They look at one another; and their eyes send to each other
waves, as it were, of thoughts, bearing drift of a thousand ancient
things, confused, mysterious. At last</i>—)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Priscilla</span> (<i>speaks</i>:)</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"I was in the last chamber of the baths; and the rumbling sounds of the
street caused a sleep to fall upon me.</p>
<p>"Suddenly I heard a clamour of voices. Men were shouting—'It is a
magician!—it is the Devil!' And the crowd stopped before our house, in
front of the Temple Æsculapius. I drew myself up with my hands to the
little window.</p>
<p>"Upon the peristyle of the temple, there stood a man who wore about his
neck a collar of iron. He took burning coals out of a chafing-dish, and
with them drew lines across his breast, the while crying out—'Jesus!
Jesus!' The people shouted—'This is not lawful! let us stone him!'
But he continued. Oh! those were unheard of marvels—things which
transported men who beheld them! Flowers broad as suns circled before
my eyes, and I heard in the spaces above me the vibrations of a golden
harp. Day died. My hands loosened their grasp of the window-bars; my
body fell back, and when he had led me away to his house...."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "But of whom art thou speaking?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Priscilla</span>. "Why, of Montanus!"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Montanus is dead!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Priscilla</span>. "It is not true!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">A Voice</span>. "No: Montanus is not dead!"</p>
<p>(<i>Anthony turns; and sees upon the bench near him, on the opposite
side, another woman sitting; she is fair, and even paler than the
other; there are swellings under her eyes, as though she had wept a
long time. She speaks without being questioned</i>:)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Maximilla</span>. "We were returning from Tarsus by way of the mountains,
when, at a turn in the road, we saw a man under a fig tree.</p>
<p>"He cried from afar off: 'Stop! stop!' and rushed toward us, uttering
words of abuse. The slaves ran up; he burst into a loud laugh. The
horses reared; the molossi all barked.</p>
<p>"He stood before us. The sweat streamed from his forehead; his mantle
napped in the wind.</p>
<p>"And calling us each by our names, he reproached us with the vanity
of our work, the infamy of our bodies; and he shook his fist at the
dromedaries because of the silver bells hanging below their mouths.</p>
<p>"His fury now filled my very entrails with<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</SPAN></span> fear and yet there was a
strange pleasure in it which fascinated me, intoxicated me!</p>
<p>"First the slaves came. 'Master,' they said, 'our animals are weary.'
Then the women said, 'We are frightened,' and the slaves departed. Then
the children began to weep,—'We are hungry.' And as the women were not
answered, they disappeared also from our view.</p>
<p>"He still spoke. I felt some one near me. It was my husband; but I
listened only to the other. My husband crawled to me upon his knees
among the stones, and cried—'Dost thou abandon me,' and I replied:
'Yes! go thy way!' that I might accompany Montanus."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "A eunuch!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Priscilla</span>. "Ah! does that astound thee, vulgar soul! Yet Magdalen,
Johanna, Martha and Susannah did not share the couch of the Saviour.
Souls may know the delirium of embrace better than bodies. That he
might keep Eustolia with impunity, the bishop Leontius mutilated
himself—loving his love more than his virility. And then, it was
no fault of mine. Sotas could not cure me; a spirit constrained me.
It is cruel, nevertheless! But what matter? I am the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</SPAN></span> last of the
prophetesses; and after me the end of the world shall come."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Maximilla</span>. "He showered his gifts upon me. Moreover, no one loves him
as I, nor is any other so well beloved by him!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Priscilla</span>. "Thou liest! I am the most beloved!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Maximilla</span>. "No: it is I!"</p>
<p>(<i>They fight. Between their shoulders suddenly appears the head of a
negro.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Montanus</span> (<i>clad in a black mantle, clasped by two cross-bones</i>):</p>
<p>"Peace, my doves! Incapable of terrestrial happiness, we have obtained
the celestial plentitude of our union. After the age of the Father,
the age of the Son; and I inaugurate the third, which is that of the
Paraclete. His light descended upon me during those forty nights when
the heavenly Jerusalem appeared shining in the firmament, above my
house at Pepuzza.</p>
<p>"Ah, how ye cry out with anguish when the thongs of the scourge
lacerate! how your suffering bodies submit to the ardor of my spiritual
discipline! how ye languish with irrealizable longing! So strong has
that desire become that it has enabled you to behold<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</SPAN></span> the invisible
world; and ye can now perceive souls even with the eyes of the body!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. (<i>Makes a gesture of astonishment.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Tertullian</span> (<i>who appears again, standing beside Montanus</i>):</p>
<p>"Without doubt; for the soul has a body, and that which is bodiless has
no existence."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Montanus</span>. "In order to render it yet more subtle, I have instituted
many mortifications, three Lents a year, and prayers to be uttered
nightly by the mind only, keeping the mouth closed, lest breathing
might tarnish thought. It is necessary to abstain from second
marriages, or rather from all marriage! The Angels themselves have
sinned with women!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Archontics</span> (<i>wearing cilices of hair</i>):</p>
<p>"The Saviour said: 'I come to destroy the work of the Woman!'"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Tatianites</span> (<i>wearing cilices of reed</i>):</p>
<p>"She is the tree of evil. Our bodies are but garments of skin."</p>
<p>(<i>And continuing to advance along the same side, Anthony meets</i>:—)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Valesians</span> (<i>extended upon the ground, with red wounds below their
bellies, and blood<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</SPAN></span> saturating their tunics. They offer him a knife.</i>)</p>
<p>"Do as Origen did and as we have done! Is it the pain that thou
fearest, coward? Is it the love of thy flesh that restrains thee,
hypocrite?"</p>
<p>(<i>And while he watches them writhing upon their backs, in a pool of
blood</i>—)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Cainites</span> (<i>wearing knotted vipers as fillets about their hair, pass
by, vociferating in his ear</i>):—</p>
<p>"Glory to Cain! Glory to Sodom! Glory be to Judas!</p>
<p>"Cain made the race of the strong; Sodom terrified the earth by her
punishment, and it was by Judas that God saved the world! Yes! by
Judas: without him there would have been no death and no redemption!"</p>
<p>(<i>They disappear beneath the horde of the</i>—)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Circumcelliones</span> (<i>all clad in the skins of wolves, crowned with thorns,
and armed with maces of iron</i>).</p>
<p>"Crush the fruit! befoul the spring! drown the child! Pillage the rich
who are happy—who cat their fill! Beat the poor who envy the ass
his saddle-cloth, the dog his meal, the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</SPAN></span> bird his nest,—and who is
wretched at knowing that others are not as miserable as himself.</p>
<p>"We, the Saints, poison, burn, massacre, that we may hasten the end of
the world.</p>
<p>"Salvation may be obtained through martyrdom only. We give ourselves
martyrdom. We tear the skin from our heads with pincers; we expose our
members to the plough; we cast ourselves into the mouths of furnaces!</p>
<p>"Out upon baptism! out upon the Eucharist! out upon marriage! universal
damnation!"</p>
<p>(<i>Then throughout all the basilica there is a redoubling of fury.</i></p>
<p><i>The Audians shoot arrows against the Devil; the Collyridians throw
blue cloths toward the roof; the Ascites prostrate themselves before
a waterskin; the Marcionites baptise a dead man with oil. A woman,
standing near Appelles, exhibits a round loaf within a bottle, in order
the better to explain her idea. Another, standing in the midst of an
assembly of Sampseans distributes, as a sacrament, the dust of her
own sandals. Upon the rose-strewn bed of the Marcosians, two lovers
embrace. The Circumcellionites<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</SPAN></span> slaughter one another; the Valesians
utter the death-rattle; Bardesanes sings; Carpocras dances; Maximilla
and Priscilla moan; and the false prophetess of Cappadocia, completely
naked, leaning upon a lion, and brandishing three torches, shrieks the
Terrible Invocation.</i></p>
<p><i>The columns of the temple sway to and fro like the trunks of trees in a
tempest; the amulets suspended about the necks of the Heresiarchs seem
to cross each other in lines of fire; the constellations in the chapels
palpitate; and the walls recoil with the ebb and flow of the crowd, in
which each head is a wave that leaps and roars.</i></p>
<p><i>Nevertheless, from the midst of the clamor arises the sound of a song,
in which the name of Jesus is often repeated, accompanied by bursts of
laughter.</i></p>
<p><i>The singers belong to the rabble of the people; they all keep time to
the song by clapping their hands. In their midst stands</i>—)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Artus</span> (<i>in a deacon's vestments</i>):</p>
<p>"The fools who declaim against me pretend to explain the absurd; and in
order to confound them utterly, I have composed ditties so droll that
they are learned by heart<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</SPAN></span> in all the mills, in the taverns and along
the ports.</p>
<p>"No! a thousand times no!—the Son is not coeternal with the Father,
nor of the same substance! Otherwise he would not have said: 'Father,
remove this chalice from me! Why dost thou call me good? God alone is
good! I go to my God, to your God!'—and many other things testifying
to his character of creature. The fact is further demonstrated for
us by all his names:—lamb, shepherd, fountain, wisdom, son-of-man,
prophet; the way, the corner-stone!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sabelliusés</span>. "I hold that both are identical."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Arius</span>. "The Council of Antioch has decided the contrary."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Then what is the Word?... What was Jesus?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Valentinians</span>. "He was the husband of Acharamoth repentant!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Sethianians</span>. "He was Shem, the son of Noah!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Theodotians</span>. "He was Melchisedech!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Merinthians</span>. "He was only a man!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Apollinarists</span>. "He assumed the appearance<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</SPAN></span> of one! He simulated the
Passion!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Marcel of Ancyra</span>. "He was a development of the Father!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pope Calixtus</span>. "Father and Son are but two modes of one God's
manifestation!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Methodius</span>. "He was first in Adam, then in man!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Cerinthus</span>. "And He will rise again!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Valentinus</span>. "Impossible—his body being celestial!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Paul of Samosata</span>. "He became God <i>only</i> from the time of his baptism!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hermogenes</span>. "He dwells in the sun!"</p>
<p>(<i>And all the Heresiarchs form a circle about Anthony, who weeps,
covering his face with his hands.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">A Jew</span> (<i>with a red beard, and spots of leprosy upon his shin,
approaches close to Anthony, and, with a hideous sneer, exclaims</i>):</p>
<p>"His soul was the soul of Esau! He suffered from the Bellephorentian
sickness. Was not his mother, the seller of perfumes, seduced by a
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</SPAN></span>Roman soldier, one Pantherus?.......................... <SPAN name="FNanchor_6_13" id="FNanchor_6_13"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_6_13" class="fnanchor">[6]</SPAN></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>suddenly raising his head, looks at them a moment in silence;
then advancing boldly upon them, exclaims</i>):</p>
<p>"Doctors, magicians, bishops, and deacons, men and phantoms, away from
me! begone! Ye are all lies!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Heresiarchs</span>. "We have martyrs more martyrs than thine, prayers
that are more difficult, outbursts of love more sublime, ecstasies as
prolonged as thine are."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "But ye have no revelation! no proofs!"</p>
<p>(<i>They all at once brandish in the air their rolls of papyrus, tablets
of wood, scrolls of leather, rolls of woven stuff bearing inscriptions;
and elbowing; and pushing each other, they all shout to Anthony.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Cerinthians</span>. "Behold the Gospel of the Hebrews!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Marcionites</span>. "Behold the Gospel of the Lord!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Marcosians</span>. "The Gospel of Eve!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Eucratites</span>. "The Gospel of Thomas!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Cainites</span>. "The Gospel of Judas!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Basilides</span>. "The Treatise upon the Destiny of the Soul!"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Manes</span>. "The Prophecy of Barkouf!"</p>
<p>(<i>Anthony struggles, breaks from them, escapes them; and in a shadowy
corner perceives</i>—)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Aged Ebionites</span></p>
<p>(<i>withered as mummies, their eyes dull and dim, their eyebrows white as
frost.</i></p>
<p><i>In tremulous voices they exclaim</i>:—)</p>
<p>"We have known him, we have seen him! We knew the Carpenter's Son! We
were then the same age as he; we dwelt in the same street. He used to
amuse himself by modelling little birds of mud; aided his father at his
work without fear of the sharp tools, or selected for his mother the
skeins of dyed wool. Then he made a voyage to Egypt, from whence he
brought back wondrous secrets. We were at Jericho when he came to find
the Eater of Locusts. They talked together in a low voice, so that no
one could hear what was said. But it was from that time that his name
began to be noised abroad in Galilee, and that men began to relate many
fables regarding him."</p>
<p>(<i>They reiterate, tremulously</i>:)</p>
<p>"We knew him! we others, we knew him!"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Ah, speak on, speak! What was his face like?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Tertullian</span>. "His face was wild and repulsive; forasmuch as he
had burthened himself with all the crimes, all the woes, all the
deformities of mankind."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Oh! no, no! I imagine, on the contrary, that his entire
person must have been glorious with a beauty greater than the beauty of
man!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Eusebius of Cæsarea</span>. "There is indeed, at Paneades, propped up against
the walls of a crumbling edifice surrounded by a wilderness of weeds
and creeping plants, a certain statue of stone which, some say, was
erected by the Woman healed of the issue of blood. But time has gnawed
the face of the statue, and the rains have worn the inscription away."</p>
<p>(<i>A woman steps forward from the group of the Carpocratians.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Marcellina</span>. "I was once a deaconess at Rome, in a little church, where
I used to exhibit to the faithful, the silver images, of Saint Paul,
Homer, Pythagoras and Jesus Christ.</p>
<p>"I have only kept that of Jesus."</p>
<p>(<i>She half opens her mantle.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Dost thou desire it?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">A Voice</span>. "He reappears himself when we call upon him! It is the
hour!—come!"</p>
<p>(<i>And Anthony feels a brutal hand seize him by the arm, and drag him
away.</i></p>
<p><i>He mounts a stairway in complete darkness; and after having ascended
many steps, he finds himself before a door.</i></p>
<p><i>Then the one who is leading him—(is it Hilarion?—he does not
know)—whispers in the ear of another</i>: "The Lord is about to
come!"—<i>and they are admitted into a chamber, with a very low ceiling,
and without furniture.</i></p>
<p><i>The first object which attracts his attention is a long blood-colored
chrysalis, with a human head surrounded by rays, and the word</i> Knouphus
<i>inscribed all around it in Greek characters. It is placed upon the
shaft of a column, which is in turn supported by a broad pedestal.
Hanging upon the walls of the chamber are medallions of polished iron
representing the heads of various animals:—the head of an ox, the head
of a lion, the head of an eagle, the head of a dog, and the head of an
ass—again!</i></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="redon202"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/redon2_02.jpg" width-obs="600" alt="" /> <div class="caption"><p>... a long blood-colored chrysalis</p> </div>
</div>
<p class="p2"><i>Earthen lamps, suspended below these<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</SPAN></span> images, create a vacillating
light. Through a hole in the wall, Anthony can see the moon shining
far off upon the waves; he can even hear the feeble regular sound of
lapping water; together with the heavy thud occasionally caused by the
bumping of a ship's hull against the stones of the mole.</i></p>
<p><i>There are men crouching down, with their faces hidden by their
mantles. From time to time they utter sounds resembling a smothered
bark. There are women also, sleeping with their foreheads resting upon
their arms, and their arms supported by their knees; they are so hidden
by their garments as to resemble heaps of cloth piled up at intervals
against the wall. Near them are half naked children, whose persons
swarm with vermin. They watch with idiotic stare the burning of the
lamps; and nothing is done: all are waiting for something.</i></p>
<p><i>They talk in undertones about family matters, or recommend to each
other various remedies for their ailments. Some of them must embark
at earliest daylight; the persecution is becoming too terrible to be
endured. Nevertheless, the pagans are easily enough<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</SPAN></span> deceived</i>:—"The
fools imagine that we are really adoring Knouphus!"</p>
<p><i>But one of the brethren, feeling himself suddenly inspired, takes his
place before the column, where a basket has already been placed, filled
with fennel and aristolochia. On the top of the basket is placed a
loaf.</i>)</p>
<p class="smcap" style="text-align: center;">The Inspired Brother</p>
<p>(<i>unrolling a placard covered with designs representing cylinders
blending with and fitting into one another, commences to pray</i>:)</p>
<p>"The ray of the Word descended upon the darknesses; and there arose a
mighty cry, like unto the voice of Light."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">All</span> (<i>swaying their bodies in unison, respond</i>):</p>
<p>"Kyrie eleison!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Inspired Brother</span>. "Then was Man created by the infamous
God of Israel, aided by those who are these (<i>pointing to the
medallions</i>)—Astophaios, Oraios, Sabaoth, Adonai, Eloi, Iao!</p>
<p>"And Man, hideous, feeble, formless and thoughtless, lay upon the slime
of the earth."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">All</span> (<i>in plaintive accents</i>):</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Kyrie eleison!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Inspired Brother</span>. "But Sophia, compassionating him, vivified him
with a spark of her own soul.</p>
<p>"Then God, beholding Man so beautiful, waxed wroth; and imprisoned him
within His own kingdom, forbidding him to touch the Tree of Knowledge.</p>
<p>"Again did the other succor him. She sent to him the Serpent, who, by
many long subterfuges, made him disobey that law of hate.</p>
<p>"And Man, having tasted knowledge, understood celestial things."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">All</span> (<i>raising their voices</i>):</p>
<p>"Kyrie Eleison!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Inspired Brother</span>. "But Iabdalaoth through vengeance cast down man
into the world of matter, and the Serpent with him."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">All</span> (<i>in a very low tone</i>):</p>
<p>"Kyrie Eleison!"</p>
<p>(<i>Then all hold their peace, and there is silence.</i></p>
<p><i>The odors of the port mingle with the smoke of the lamps in the warm
air. The lamp-wicks crepitate; their flames are about to go out, long
mosquitoes flit in rapid circlings about them. And Anthony groans
in<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</SPAN></span> an agony of anguish, as with the feeling that a monstrosity is
floating about him, as with the fear of a crime that is about to be
accomplished.</i></p>
<p><i>But</i>—)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Inspired Brother</span> (<i>stamping his heel upon the floor, snapping his
fingers, tossing his head wildly, suddenly chants to a furious rhythm,
with accompaniment of cymbals and a shrill flute</i>:—)</p>
<p>"Come! come! come!—issue from thy cavern!</p>
<p>"O swift one, who runneth without feet, captor who seizeth without hand!</p>
<p>"Sinuous as the rivers, orbicular as the sun, black, with spots of
gold, like the firmament star-besprinkled! Like unto the intertwinings
of the vine, and the circumvolutions of entrails!</p>
<p>"Unengendered! eater of earth! immortally young! unfailing
perspicacious! honored at Epidaurus! Kindly to man! thou who didst heal
King Ptolemy, and the warriors, of Moses, and Glaucus, son of Minos!</p>
<p>"Come! come! come!—issue from thy cavern!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">All</span> (<i>repeat</i>):</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Come! come! come!—issue from thy cavern!"</p>
<p>(<i>Nevertheless, nothing yet appears.</i>)</p>
<p>"Why? What aileth him?"</p>
<p>(<i>And they concert together, devise means.</i></p>
<p><i>An old man presents a clod of turf as an offering. Then something
upheaves within the basket. The mass of verdure shakes; the flowers
fall, and the head of a python appears.</i></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="redon05"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/redon_05.jpg" width-obs="600" alt="" /> <div class="caption"><p>... the flowers fall and the head of a python appears</p> </div>
</div>
<p class="p2"><i>It passes slowly around the edge of the loaf, like a circle moving
around an immovable disk;—then it unfolds itself, lengthens out; it is
enormous and of great weight. Lest it should touch the floor, the men
uphold it against their breasts, the women support it upon their heads,
the children hold it up at arms' length; and its tail, issuing through
the hole in the wall, stretches away indefinitely to the bottom of the
sea. Its coils double; they fill the chamber; they enclose Anthony.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Faithful</span> (<i>press their mouths against its skin, snatch from one
another the loaf which it has bitten, and cry aloud</i>:—)</p>
<p>"It is thou! it is thou!</p>
<p>"First raised up by Moses, broken by<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</SPAN></span> Ezechias, re-established by the
Messiah. He drank thee in the waters of baptism; but thou didst leave
him in the Garden of Olives; and then indeed he felt his own weakness!</p>
<p>"Writhing about the arms of the cross, and above his head, while
casting thy slime upon the crown of thorns, thou didst behold him die!
For thou art not Jesus, thou!—thou art the Word! thou art the Christ!"</p>
<p>(<i>Anthony faints with horror, and falls prostrate in front of his hut
upon the splinters of wood, where the torch that had slipped from his
hand, is burning low.</i></p>
<p><i>The shock arouses him. Opening his eyes again, he perceives the Nile,
brightly undulating under the moon, like a vast serpent winding over
the sands; so that the hallucination returns upon him again; he has not
left the company of the Ophites; they surround him, call him; he sees
them carrying baggage, descending to the port. He embarks along with
them.</i></p>
<p><i>An inappreciable time elapses.</i></p>
<p><i>Then the vaults of a prison environ him. Iron bars in front of him
make black lines against a background of blue; and in the darkness
beside him people are praying and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</SPAN></span> weeping surrounded by others who
exhort and console.</i></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="redon06"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/redon_06.jpg" width-obs="600" alt="" /> <div class="caption"><p>... and in the darkness beside him people are praying</p>
</div>
</div>
<p class="p2"><i>Without, there is a murmur like the deep humming of a vast crowd, and
there is splendour as of a summer's day.</i></p>
<p><i>Shrill voices announce watermelons for sale, iced drinks, and cushions
of woven grass to sit upon. From time to time there are bursts of
applause. He hears the sound of footsteps above his head.</i></p>
<p><i>Suddenly a long roar is heard, mighty and cavernous as the roar of
water in an aqueduct.</i></p>
<p><i>And he sees, directly opposite, behind the bars of another compartment
across the arena a lion walking to and fro, then a line of sandals,
bare legs, and purple fringes. Beyond are the vast circling wreaths
of people, in symmetrical tiers, enlarging as they rise, from the
lowest which hems in the arena to the uppermost above which masts
rise to sustain a hyacinth-colored awning, suspended in air by ropes.
Stairways radiating toward the centre, divide these huge circles of
stone at regular intervals. The benches disappear under a host of
spectators—knights, senators, soldiers, plebeians, vestals, and
courtesans—in woollen hoods, in silken maniples, in fallow-colored<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</SPAN></span>
tunics; together with aigrettes of precious stones, plumes of feathers,
the fasces of lictors; and all this swarming multitude deafens and
stupefies Anthony with its shoutings, its tumultuous fury, as of an
enormous boiling vat. In the middle of the arena, a vase of incense
smokes upon an altar.</i></p>
<p><i>Anthony thus knows that the people with him are Christians condemned
to be thrown to the wild beasts. The men wear the red mantle of the
pontiffs of Saturn; the women, the bandellettes of Ceres. Their friends
divide among themselves shreds of their garments, and rings. To obtain
access to the prison, they say, costs a great deal of money. But what
matter! They will remain until it is all over.</i></p>
<p><i>Anthony notices among these consolers, a certain bald-headed man,
in a black tunic: Anthony has seen that face somewhere before. The
consoler discourses to them concerning the nothingness of this world,
and the felicity of the Elect. Anthony feels within him a transport of
celestial love; he longs for the opportunity to lay down his life for
the Saviour—not knowing as yet whether he himself is to be numbered
among the martyrs.</i></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><i>But all—except a certain Phrygian, with long hair, who stands with
his arms uplifted—have a look of woe. One old man is sobbing upon a
bench; a youth standing close by, with drooping head, abandons himself
to a reverie of sorrow.</i></p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Old Man</span> <i>had refused to pay the customary contribution before the
statue of Minerva, erected at the angle of the cross-roads; and he
gazes at his companions with a look that signifies</i>:—)</p>
<p>"Ye ought to have succored me! Communities can sometimes so arrange
matters as to insure their being left in peace. Some among ye also
procured those letters which falsely allege that one has sacrificed to
idols."</p>
<p>(<i>He asks aloud</i>:—)</p>
<p>"Was it not Petrus of Alexandria who laid down the rule concerning what
should be done by those who have yielded to torture?"</p>
<p>(<i>Then, to himself</i>:—)</p>
<p>"Ah! how cruel this at my age! My infirmities make me so weak!
Nevertheless, I might easily have lived until the coming winter, or
longer!"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>(<i>The memory of his little garden makes him sad, and he gazes toward
the altar.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Young Man</span> (<i>who disturbed the festival of Apollo by violence and
blows, murmurs</i>:—)</p>
<p>"Yet it would have been easy for me to have fled to the mountains!"</p>
<p>(<i>One of the brothers answers</i>:—)</p>
<p>"But the soldiers would have captured thee!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Young Man</span>. "Oh! I would have done as Cyprian did—I would have
returned, and the second time I would surely have had more force!"</p>
<p>(<i>Then he thinks of the innumerable days that he might have lived, of
all the joys that he might have known, but will never know; and he
gazes toward the altar.</i></p>
<p><i>But</i>—)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Man in the Black Tunic</span> (<i>rushes to his side.</i>)</p>
<p>"What scandal! What! Thou! a victim of God's own choice! And all these
women here who are looking at thee! Nay, think what thou art doing!
Moreover, remember that God sometimes vouchsafes to perform a miracle.
Pionius numbed and made powerless<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</SPAN></span> the hands of his executioners; the
blood of Polycarp extinguished the fire of the stake."</p>
<p>(<i>Then he turns to the Old Man</i>:—)</p>
<p>"Father, father! it behooves thee to edify us by thy death! By longer
delaying it, thou wouldst doubtless commit some evil action that would
lose thee the fruit of all thy good works. Remember, also, that the
power of God is infinite; and it may come to pass that all the people
will be converted by thy example."</p>
<p>(<i>And in the great den opposite, the lions stride back and forth,
ceaselessly, with a rapid continuous motion. The largest suddenly looks
at Anthony and roars, and a vapour issues from his jaws.</i></p>
<p><i>The women are huddled against the men.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Consoler</span> (<i>goes from one to the other.</i>)</p>
<p>"What would ye say, what wouldst thou say if thou wert to be burned
with red-hot irons, if thou wert to be torn asunder by horses, if thou
hadst been condemned to have thy body smeared with honey, and thus
exposed to be devoured by flies! As it is, thou wilt only suffer the
death of a hunter surprised by a beast in the woods."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>(<i>Anthony would prefer all those things to death by the fangs of the
horrible wild beasts; he fancies already that he feels their teeth and
their claws, that he hears his bones cracking between their jaws.</i></p>
<p><i>A keeper enters the dungeon; the martyrs tremble.</i></p>
<p><i>Only one remains impassable, the Phrygian, who prays standing apart
from the rest. He has burned three temples; and he advances with arms
uplifted, mouth open, face turned toward heaven, seeing nothing around
him, like a somnambulist.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Consoler</span> (<i>shouts</i>). "Back! back! lest the spirit of Montanus might
come upon you."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">All</span> (<i>recoil from the Phrygian, and vociferate</i>)</p>
<p>"Damnation to the Montanist!"</p>
<p>(<i>They insult him, spit upon him, excite each other to beat him.</i></p>
<p><i>The rearing lions bite each other's manes</i>;)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The People</span> "To the beasts with them, to the beasts."</p>
<p><i>The Martyrs burst into sobs, and embrace each other passionately. A
cup of narcotic<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</SPAN></span> wine is offered them. It is passed from hand to hand,
quickly.</i></p>
<p><i>Another keeper, standing at the door of the den, awaits the signal.
The den opens; a lion comes out.</i></p>
<p><i>He crosses the arena with great oblique strides. Other lions follow in
file after him; then a bear, three panthers, and some leopards. They
scatter through the arena like a flock in a meadow.</i></p>
<p><i>The crack of a whip resounds. The Christians stagger forward; and
their brethren push them, that it may be over the sooner.</i></p>
<p><i>Anthony closes his eyes.</i></p>
<p><i>He opens them again. But darkness envelopes him.</i></p>
<p><i>Soon the darkness brightens; and he beholds an arid plain, mamillated
with knolls, such as might be seen about abandoned quarries.</i></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="redon07"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/redon_07.jpg" width-obs="600" alt="" /> <div class="caption"><p>... and he beholds an arid plain, mamillated with knolls</p> </div>
</div>
<p class="p2"><i>Here and there a tuft of shrubbery rises among the slabs of stone,
level with the soil; and there are white figures, vaguer than clouds,
bending over the slabs.</i></p>
<p><i>Others approach, softly, silently. Eyes gleam through the slits of
long veils. By the easy indifference of their walk, and the perfumes<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</SPAN></span>
exhaled from their garments, Anthony knows they are patrician women.
There are men also, but of inferior condition; for their faces are at
once simple-looking and coarse.</i></p>
<p>(<i>One of the Women, taking a long breath</i>:)</p>
<p>"Ah! how good the cool air of night is, among the sepulchers! I am so
weary of the softness of beds, the turmoil of days, the heavy heat of
the sun!"</p>
<p>(<i>Her maid-servant takes from a canvas bag, a torch which she ignites.
The faithful light other torches by it, and plant them upon the tombs.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">A Woman</span> (<i>panting</i>).</p>
<p>"I am here at last! Oh how wearisome to be the wife of an idolator!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Another</span>. "These visits to the prisons, interviews with our brethren,
are all matters of suspicion to our husbands! And we must even hide
ourselves in order to make the sign of the cross; they would take it
for a magical conjuration!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Another</span>. "With my husband it was a quarrel every day. I would not
submit myself to his brutal exactions; therefore he has had me
prosecuted as a Christian."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Another</span>. "Do you remember Lucius,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</SPAN></span> that young man who was so beautiful,
who was dragged like Hector, with his heels attached to a chariot,
from the Esquiline Gate to the mountains of Tibur?—and how his blood
spattered the bushes on either side of the road? I gathered up the
drops of his blood. Behold it!"</p>
<p>(<i>She drags a black sponge from her bosom, covers it with kisses, and
flings herself down upon the slabs, crying aloud</i>:—)</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="redon08"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/redon_08.jpg" width-obs="600" alt="" /> <div class="caption"><p>She drags a black sponge from her bosom, covers it with kisses ...</p> </div>
</div>
<p class="p2">"Ah! my friend! my friend!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">A Man</span>. "It is just three years to-day since Domitilla died. They stoned
her at the further end of the Grove of Proserpine. I gathered her
bones, which shone like glowworms in the grass. The earth how covers
them."</p>
<p>(<i>He casts himself down upon a tomb.</i>)</p>
<p>"O my betrothed! my betrothed!"</p>
<p>(<i>And all the others scattered over the plain</i>:—)</p>
<p>"O my sister! O my brother! O my daughter! O my mother!"</p>
<p>(<i>Some kneel, covering their faces with their hands; others lie down
upon the ground with their arms extended; and the sobs they smother
shake their breasts with such violence as though their hearts were
breaking<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</SPAN></span> with grief. Sometimes they look up to heaven, exclaiming</i>:—)</p>
<p>"Have mercy upon her soul, O my God! She languishes in the sojourn of
Shades; vouchsafe to admit her to thy Resurrection, that she may enjoy
Thy Light!"</p>
<p>(<i>Or, with eyes fixed upon the gravestones, they murmur to the dead</i>:—)</p>
<p>"Be at peace, beloved! and suffer not! I have brought thee wine and
meats!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">A Widow</span>. "Here is pultis, made by my own hands, as he used to like it,
with plenty of eggs and a double measure of flour! We are going to eat
it together as in other days, are we not?"</p>
<p>(<i>She lifts a little piece to her lips, and suddenly bursts into an
extravagant and frenzied laugh.</i></p>
<p><i>The others also nibble a little bit as she does and drink a mouthful
of wine.</i></p>
<p><i>They recount to each other the stories of their martyrs; grief becomes
exalted! libations redouble. Their tear-swimming eyes are fixed upon
each other's faces. They stammer with intoxication and grief; gradually
hands touch hands, lips join themselves<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</SPAN></span> to lips, and they seek each
other upon the tombs, between the cups and the torches.</i></p>
<p><i>The sky begins to whiten. The fog makes damp their garments; and,
without appearing even to know one another, they depart by different
ways and seek their homes.</i></p>
<p><i>The sun shines; the weeds and the grass have grown higher; the face of
the plain is changed.</i></p>
<p><i>And Anthony, looking between tall bamboos, sees distinctly a forest of
columns, of bluish-grey color. These are tree-trunks, all originating
from one vast trunk. From each branch of the colossal tree descend
other branches which may bury themselves in the soil; and the aspect of
all these horizontal and perpendicular lines, indefinitely multiplied,
would closely resemble a monstrous timber-work, were it not that they
have small figs<SPAN name="FNanchor_7_14" id="FNanchor_7_14"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_7_14" class="fnanchor">[7]</SPAN> growing upon them here and there, and a blackish
foliage, like that of the sycamore.</i></p>
<p><i>He perceives in the forkings of their branches, hanging bunches of
yellow flowers, violet flowers also, and ferns that resemble the plumes
of splendid birds.</i></p>
<p><i>Under the lowest branches the horns of a<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</SPAN></span> bubalus gleam at intervals,
and the bright eyes of antelopes are visible; there are hosts of
parrots; there are butterflies flittering hither and thither; lizards
lazily drag themselves up or down; flies buzz and hum; and in the midst
of the silence, a sound is audible as of the palpitation of a deep and
mighty life.</i></p>
<p><i>Seated upon a sort of pyre at the entrance of the wood is a strange
being—a man—besmeared with cow-dung, completely naked, more withered
than a mummy; his articulations form knots at the termination of bones
that resemble sticks. He has bunches of shells suspended from his ears;
his face is very long, and his nose like a vulture's beak. His left arm
remains motionlessly erect in air, anchylosed, rigid as a stake; and he
has been seated here so long that birds have made themselves a nest in
his long hair.</i></p>
<p><i>At the four corners of his wooden pyre flame four fires. The sun is
directly in front of him. He gazes steadily at it with widely-opened
eyes; and, then without looking at Anthony, asks him</i>:—)</p>
<p>"Brahmin from the shores of the Nile,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</SPAN></span> what hast thou to say regarding
these things?"</p>
<p>(<i>Flames suddenly burst out on all sides of him, through the intervals
between the logs of the pyre; and</i>—)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Gymnosophist</span> (<i>continues</i>).</p>
<p>"Lo! I have buried myself in solitude, like the rhinoceros. I dwelt in
the tree behind me."</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="redon09"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/redon_09.jpg" width-obs="600" alt="" /> <div class="caption"><p>I have buried myself in solitude, like the rhinoceros. I dwelt in the tree behind me </p>
</div>
</div>
<p class="p2">(<i>The vast fig-tree, indeed, shows in one of its groves, a natural
excavation about the size of a man.</i>)</p>
<p>"And I nourished me with flowers and fruits, observing the precepts so
rigidly that not even a dog ever beheld me eat.</p>
<p>"Inasmuch as existence originates from corruption, corruption from
desire, desire from sensation, sensation from contact, I have ever
avoided all action, all contact, and perpetually—motionless as the
stela of a tomb, exhaling my breath from my two nostrils, fixing my
eyes upon my nose, and contemplating the ether in my mind, the world in
my members, the moon in my heart—I dreamed of the essence of the great
Soul whence continually escape the principles of life, even as sparks
escape from fire.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Thus at last I found the supreme Soul in all beings, and all beings
in the supreme Soul; and I have been able to make mine own soul all my
senses.</p>
<p>"I receive knowledge directly from heaven, like the bird Tchataka, who
quenches his thirst from falling rain only.</p>
<p>"Even by so much as things are known to me, things no longer exist.</p>
<p>"For me now there is no more hope, no more anguish, there is neither
happiness nor virtue, nor day nor night, nor Thou nor I—absolutely
nothing!</p>
<p>"My awful austerities have made me superior to the Powers. A single
contraction of my thought would suffice to kill a hundred sons of
kings, to dethrone gods, to overturn the world."</p>
<p>(<i>He utters all these things in a monotonous voice.</i></p>
<p><i>The surrounding leaves shrivel up. Fleeing rats rush over the ground.</i></p>
<p><i>He slowly turns his eyes downward toward the rising flames, and then
continues</i>:—)</p>
<p>"I have loathed Form, I have loathed Perception, I have loathed even
Knowledge itself, for the thought does not survive the transitory<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</SPAN></span> fact
which caused it; and mind, like all else, is only an illusion.</p>
<p>"All that is engendered will perish; all that is dead must live again;
the beings that have even now disappeared shall sojourn again in wombs
as yet unformed, and shall again return to earth to serve in woe other
creatures.</p>
<p>"But inasmuch as I have rolled through the revolution of an indefinite
multitude of existences, under the envelopes of gods, of men, and of
animals, I renounce further wanderings; I will endure this weariness
no more! I abandon the filthy hostelry of this body of mine, built
with flesh, reddened with blood, covered with a hideous skin, full of
uncleanliness; and, for my recompense, I go at last to slumber in the
deepest deeps of the Absolute—in Annihilation."</p>
<p>(<i>The flames rise to his chest, then envelope him. His head rises
through them as through a hole in the wall. His cavernous eyes still
remain icicle open, gazing.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>rises</i>).</p>
<p>(<i>The torch, which had fallen to the ground, has ignited the splinters
of wood; and the flames have singed his beard.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</SPAN></span></i></p>
<p><i>With a loud cry, Anthony tramples the fire out; and, when nothing
remains but ashes, he exclaims</i>:—)</p>
<p>"Where can Hilarion be? He was here a moment ago. I saw him!</p>
<p>"What! No; it is impossible; I must have been mistaken!</p>
<p>"Yet why?... Perhaps my cabin, these stones, this sand, have no real
existence. I am becoming mad! Let me be calm! Where was I? What was it
that happened?</p>
<p>"Ah! the gymnosophist!... Such a death is frequent among the sages of
India. Kalanos burned himself before Alexander; another did likewise
in the time of Augustus. What hatred of life men must have to do thus!
Unless, indeed, they are impelled by pride alone?... Yet in any event
they have the intrepidity of martyrs.... As for the latter, I can now
well believe what has been told me regarding the debauchery they cause.</p>
<p>"And before that? Yes: I remember now! the host of the Heresiarchs!
What outcries! What eyes! Yet why so much rebellion of the flesh, so
much dissoluteness, so many aberrations of the intellect.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"They claim, nevertheless, to seek God through all those ways! What
right have I to curse them—I, who stumble so often in mine own path?
I was perhaps about to learn more of them at the moment when they
disappeared. Too rapid was the whirl; I had no time to answer. Now I
feel as though there were more space, more light in my understanding. I
am calm. I even feel myself able to.... What is this? I thought I had
put out the fire!"</p>
<p>(<i>A flame flits among the rocks; and soon there comes the sound of
a voice—broken, convulsed as by sobs—from afar off, among the
mountains.</i>)</p>
<p>"Can it be the cry of a hyena, or the lamentation of some traveler that
has lost his way?"</p>
<p>(<i>Anthony listens. The flame draws nearer.</i></p>
<p><i>And he beholds a weeping woman approach, leaning upon the shoulder of
a white-bearded man.</i></p>
<p><i>She is covered with a purple robe in rags. He is bareheaded like lier,
wears a tunic of the same color, and carries in his hands a brazen
vase, whence arises a thin blue flame.</i></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><i>Anthony feels a fear come upon him, and wishes to know who this woman
may be.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Stranger Simon</span>. "It is a young girl, a poor child that I lead about
with me everywhere."</p>
<p>(<i>He uplifts the brazen vase.</i></p>
<p><i>Anthony contemplates the girl, by the light of its vacillating flame.</i></p>
<p><i>There are marks of bites upon her face, traces of blows upon her arms;
her dishevelled hair entangles itself in the rents of her rags; her
eyes appear to be insensible to light.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Simon</span>. "Sometimes she remains thus for a long, long time without
speaking; then all at once she revives, and discourses of marvellous
things."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "In truth?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Simon</span>. "Ennoia; Ennoia! Ennoia!—tell us what thou hast to say!"</p>
<p>(<i>She rolls her eyes like one awaking from a dream, slowly passes her
fingers over her brows, and in a mournful voice, speaks</i>:—)</p>
<p>Helena<SPAN name="FNanchor_8_15" id="FNanchor_8_15"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_8_15" class="fnanchor">[8]</SPAN> (<i>Ennoia</i>).</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="redon10"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/redon_10.jpg" width-obs="600" alt="" /> <div class="caption"><p>Helena - Ennoia</p> </div>
</div>
<p class="p2">"I remember a distant land, of the color of emerald. Only one tree
grows there.</p>
<p>(<i>Anthony starts</i>).</p>
<p>"Upon each of its tiers of broad-extending arms, a pair of Spirits
dwell in air. All about them the branches intercross, like the veins
of a body; and they watch the eternal Life circulating, from the roots
deep plunging into darkness even to the leafy summit that rises higher
than the sun. I, dwelling upon the second branch, illuminated the
nights of Summer with my face."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>, (<i>tapping his own forehead</i>:—)</p>
<p>"Ah! ah! I comprehend! her head!..."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Simon</span> (<i>placing his finger to his lips</i>:—)</p>
<p>"Hush!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Helena</span>. "The sail remained well filled by the wind; the keel cleft the
foam. He said to me: 'What though I afflict my country, though I lose
my kingdom! Thou wilt belong to me, in my house!'</p>
<p>"How sweet was the lofty chamber of his palace! Lying upon the ivory
bed, he caressed my long hair, singing amorously the while.</p>
<p>"Even at the close of the day I beheld the two camps, the watchfires
being lighted,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</SPAN></span> Ulysses at the entrance of his tent, armed Achilles
driving a chariot along the sea-beach."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Why! she is utterly mad! How came this to pass?..."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Simon</span>. "Hush! hush!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Helena</span>. "They anointed me with unguents, and sold me to the people that
I might amuse them.</p>
<p>"One evening I was standing with the sistrum in my hand, making music
for some Greek sailors who were dancing. The rain was falling upon the
roof of the tavern like a cataract, and the cups of warm wine were
smoking.</p>
<p>"A man suddenly entered, although the door was not opened to let him
pass."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Simon</span>. "It was I! I found thee again!</p>
<p>"Behold her, Anthony, she whom they call Sigeh, Ennoia, Barbelo,
Prounikos! The Spirits governing the world were jealous of her; and
they imprisoned her within the body of a woman.</p>
<p>"She was that Helen of Troy, whose memory was cursed by the poet
Stesichorus. She was Lucretia, the patrician woman violated by a king.
She was Delilah, by whom Samson's<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</SPAN></span> locks were shorn.... She has loved
adultery, idolatry, lying and foolishness. She has prostituted herself
to all nations. She has sung at the angles of all cross-roads. She has
kissed the faces of all men.</p>
<p>"At Tyre, she, the Syrian, was the mistress of robbers. She caroused
with them during the nights; and she concealed assassins amidst the
vermin of her tepid bed."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Ah! what is this to me?..."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Simon</span> (<i>with a furious look</i>:—)</p>
<p>"I tell thee that I have redeemed her, and re-established her in her
former splendor; insomuch that Caius Cæsar Caligula became enamoured of
her, desiring to sleep with the Moon!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "What then?..."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Simon</span>. "Why this, that she herself is the Moon! Has not Pope Clement
written how she was imprisoned in a tower? Three hundred persons
surrounded the tower to watch it; and the moon was seen at each of the
loop-holes at the same time, although there is not more than one moon
in the world, nor more than one Ennoia!"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Yes ... it seems to me that I remember...."</p>
<p>(<i>He falls into a reverie.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Simon</span>. "Innocent as the Christ who died for men, so did she devote
herself for women. For the impotence of Jehovah is proven by the
transgression of Adama, and we must shake off the yoke of the old law,
which is antipathetic to the order of things.<SPAN name="FNanchor_9_16" id="FNanchor_9_16"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_9_16" class="fnanchor">[9]</SPAN></p>
<p>"I have preached the revival in Ephraim and in Issachar by the torrent
of Bizor, beyond the Lake of Houleh, in the valley of Maggedo, further
than the mountains, at Bostra and at Damascus. Let all come to me who
are covered with wine, who are covered with filth, who are covered with
blood! and I shall take away their uncleanliness with the Holy Spirit,
called Minerva by the Greeks. She is Minerva! she is the Holy Spirit! I
am Jupiter, Apollo, the Christ, the Paraclete, the great might of God,
incarnated in the person of Simon!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Ah! it is thou!... so it is thou! But I know thy crimes!</p>
<p>"Thou wast born at Gittoi near Samaria,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</SPAN></span> Dositheas, thy first master,
drove thee from him. Thou didst execrate Saint Paul because he
converted one of thy wives; and, vanquished by Saint Peter, in thy rage
and terror thou didst cast into the waves the bag which contained thy
artifices!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Simon</span>. "Dost thou desire them?"</p>
<p>(<i>Anthony looks at him, and an interior voice whispers hi his
heart:—"Why not?"</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Simon</span> (<i>continues</i>).</p>
<p>"He who knows the forces of Nature and the essence of Spirits must be
able to perform miracles. It has been the dream of all sages; it is the
desire which even now gnaws thee!—confess it!"</p>
<p>"In the sight of the multitude of the Romans, I flew in the air so
high that none could behold me move. Nero ordered that I should be
decapitated; but it was the head of a sheep which fell upon the ground
in lieu of mine. At last they buried me alive; but I rose again upon
the third day. The proof is that thou dost behold me before thee!"</p>
<p>(<i>He presents his hands to Anthony to smell. They have the stench of
corpse-flesh. Anthony recoils with loathing.</i>)</p>
<p>"I can make serpents of bronze writhe; I<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</SPAN></span> can make marble statues
laugh; I can make dogs speak. I will show thee vast quantities of gold;
I will reestablish kings; thou shalt see nations prostrate themselves
in adoration before me! I can walk upon the clouds and upon the waves,
I can pass through mountains, I can make myself appear as a youth, as
an old man, as a tiger, or as an ant; I can assume thy features; I can
give thee mine; I can make the thunder follow after me. Dost hear it?"</p>
<p>(<i>The thunder rumbles; flashes of lightning succeed.</i>)</p>
<p>"It is the voice of the Most High; for 'the Lord thy God is a fire;'
and all creations are accomplished by sparks from the fire-centre of
all things.</p>
<p>Thou shalt even now receive the baptism of it—that second baptism
announced by Jesus, which fell upon the apostles on a day of tempest
when the windows were open!"</p>
<p>(<i>And stirring up the flame with his hand, slowly, as though preparing
to sprinkle Anthony with it, he continues</i>:—)</p>
<p>"Mother of mercies, thou who discoverest all secrets, in order that we
may find rest in the eighth mansion...."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>cries out</i>:—)</p>
<p>"Oh! that I had only some holy water!..."</p>
<p>(<i>The flame goes out, producing much smoke.</i></p>
<p><i>Ennoia and Simon have disappeared.</i></p>
<p><i>An exceedingly cold, opaque and fœtid mist fills the atmosphere.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>groping with his hands like a blind man</i>:—)</p>
<p>"Where am I?... I fear lest I fall into the abyss! And the cross,
surely, is too far from me. Ah! what a night! what a terrible night!"</p>
<p>(<i>The mist is parted by a gust of wind; and Anthony sees two men
covered with long white tunics.</i></p>
<p><i>The first is of lofty stature, with a gentle face, and a grave mien.
His blond hair, parted like that of Christ, falls upon his shoulders.
He has cast aside a wand that he had been holding in his hand; his
companion takes it up, making a reverence after the fashion of the
Orientals.</i></p>
<p><i>The latter is small of stature, thick set, flat-nosed; his neck and
shoulders expresses good natured simplicity.</i></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><i>Both are barefooted, bareheaded, and dusty, like persons who have made
a long journey.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>starting up</i>:—)</p>
<p>"What do ye seek? Speak!... Begone from here!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span> (<i>who is a little man</i>).</p>
<p>"Nay! nay! be not angered, good hermit. As for that I seek, I know not
myself what it is! Here is the Master!"</p>
<p>(<i>He sits down. The other stranger remains standing. Silence.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>asks</i>).</p>
<p>"Then ye come?..."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span>. "Oh! from afar off—very far off!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "And ye go?..."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span> (<i>pointing to the other</i>)</p>
<p>"Whithersoever he shall desire!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "But who may he be?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span>. "Look well upon him!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>aside</i>).</p>
<p>"He looks like a saint! If I could only dare...."</p>
<p>(<i>The mist is all gone. The night is very clear. The moon shines.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span>. "Of what art thou dreaming, that thou dost not speak?"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "I was thinking.... Oh! nothing!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span> (<i>approaches Apollonius, and walks all round him several times,
bending himself as he walks, never raising his head</i>:—)</p>
<p>"Master, here is a Galilean hermit who desires to know the beginnings
of wisdom."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "Let him approach!" (<i>Anthony hesitates.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span>. "Approach!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span> (<i>in a voice of thunder</i>:—)</p>
<p>"Approach! Thou wouldst know who I am, what I have done, and what I
think,—is it not so, child?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Always supposing that these things can contribute to the
salvation of my soul."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "Rejoice! I am about to inform thee of them!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span> (<i>in an undertone, to Anthony</i>:—)</p>
<p>"Is it possible? He must surely have at the first glance discerned in
thee extraordinary aptitude for philosophy. I shall also strive to
profit by his instruction."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "First of all, I shall tell thee of the long course which
I have followed in order to obtain the doctrine; and if thou canst<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</SPAN></span>
discover in all my life one evil action, thou shalt bid me pause, for
he who hath erred in his actions may well give scandal by his words."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span> (<i>to Anthony</i>).</p>
<p>"How just a man? Is he not?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Indeed I believe him to be sincere."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "Upon the night of my birth, my mother imagined that
she was gathering flowers by the shore of a great lake. A flash of
lightning appeared; and she brought me into the world to the music of
the voices of swans singing to her in her dream.</p>
<p>"Until I had reached the age of fifteen I was plunged thrice a day into
the fountain, Asbadeus, whose waters make perjurers hydropical; and my
body was rubbed with the leaves of the onyza, that I might be chaste.</p>
<p>"A Palmyrian princess came one evening to seek me, offering me
treasures that she knew to be in the tombs. A hierodule of the temple
of Diana, slew herself in despair with the sacrificial knife; and the
governor of Cilicia, finding all his promises of no avail, cried out in
the presence of my family that he would cause my death; but it was he
that<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</SPAN></span> died only three days after, assassinated by the Romans."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span> (<i>nudging Anthony with his elbow</i>).</p>
<p>"Eh? did I not tell thee? What a man!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "For the space of four successive years I maintained the
unbroken silence of the Pythagoreans. The most sudden and unexpected
pain never extorted a sigh from me; and when I used to enter the
theatre, all drew away from me, as from a phantom."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span>. "Wouldst thou have done so much?—thou?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "After the period of my trial had been accomplished, I
undertook to instruct the priests regarding the tradition they had
lost."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "What tradition?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span>. "Interrupt him not! Be silent!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "I have conversed with the Samaneans of the Ganges, with
the astrologers of Chaldea, with the magi of Babylon, with the Gaulish
Druids, with the priests of the negroes! I have ascended the fourteen
Olympii; I have sounded the Scythian lakes; I have measured the breadth
of the Desert!"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span>. "It is all true! I was with him the while!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "But first I had visited the Hyrcanian Sea; I made the tour
of it; and descending by way of the country of the Baraomati, where
Bucephalus is buried, I approached the city of Nineveh. At the gates of
the city, a man drew near me...."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span>. "I—even I, good master! I loved thee from the first. Thou wert
gentler than a girl and more beautiful than a god!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span> (<i>without hearing him</i>).</p>
<p>"He asked me to accompany him, that he might serve as interpreter."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span>. "But thou didst reply that all languages were familiar to thee,
and that thou couldst divine all thoughts. Then I kissed the hem of thy
mantle, and proceeded to walk behind thee."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "After Ctesiphon, we entered upon the territory of Babylon."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span>. "And the Satrap cried aloud on beholding a man so pale."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>aside</i>).</p>
<p>"What signifies this?..."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "The king received me standing, near a throne of silver,
in a hall constellated<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</SPAN></span> with stars; from the cupola hung suspended by
invisible threads four great birds of gold, with wings extended."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>dreamily</i>).</p>
<p>"Can there be such things in the world?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span>. "Ah! that is a city! that Babylon! everybody there is rich! The
houses, which are painted blue, have doors of bronze, and flights of
steps descending to the river."</p>
<p>(<i>Drawing lines upon the ground, with his stick</i>:)</p>
<p>"Like that, seest thou? And then there are temples, there are squares,
there are baths, there are aqueducts! The palaces are roofed with red
brass; and the interior ... ah! if thou only knewest!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "Upon the north wall rises a tower which supports a second,
a third, a fourth, a fifth, and there are also three others! The eighth
is a chapel containing a bed. No one enters it save the woman chosen by
the priests for the God Belus. I was lodged there by order of the King
of Babylon."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span>. "As for me, they hardly deigned to give me any attention! So I
walked through the streets all by myself. I informed<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</SPAN></span> myself regarding
the customs of the people; I visited the workshops; I examined the
great machines that carry water to the gardens. But I soon wearied of
being separated from the Master."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "At last we left Babylon; and as we travelled by the light
of the moon, we suddenly beheld an Empusa."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span>. "Aye, indeed! She leaped upon her iron hoof; she brayed like an
ass; she galloped among the rocks. He shouted imprecations at her; she
disappeared."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>aside</i>).</p>
<p>"What can be their motive?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "At Taxilla, the capital of five thousand fortresses,
Phraortes, King of the Ganges, showed us his guard of black men, whose
stature was five cubits, and under a pavilion of green brocade in his
gardens, an enormous elephant, which the queens amused themselves by
perfuming. It was the elephant of Porus which had taken flight after
the death of Alexander."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span>. "And which had been found again in a forest."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Their speech is superabundant, like that of drunken men!"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "Phraortes seated us at his own table."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span>. "How strange a country that was! During their drinking
carousels, the lords used to amuse-themselves by shooting arrows under
the feet of a dancing child. But I do not approve...."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "When I was ready to depart, the king gave me a parasol,
and he said to me: 'I have a stud of white camels upon the Indus. When
thou shalt have no further use for them, blow in their ears. They will
come back.'</p>
<p>"We descended along the river, marching at night by the light of the
fire-flies, which glimmered among the bamboos. The slave whistled an
air to drive away the serpents; and our camels bent down in passing
below the branches of the trees, as if passing under low gates.</p>
<p>"One day a black child, who held a golden caduceus in his hand,
conducted us to the College of the Sages. Iarchas, their chief, spoke
to me of my ancestors, told me of all my thoughts, of all my actions,
of all my existences. In former time he had been the River Indus; and
he reminded me that I had once<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</SPAN></span> been a boatman upon the Nile, in the
time of King Sesostris."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span>. "As for me, they told me nothing; so that I know not who or what
I have been."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "They have a vague look, like shadows!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "Upon the shores of the sea we met with the milk-gorged
Cynocephali, who were returning from their expedition to the Island
Taprobana. The tepid waves rolled blond pearls to our feet. The amber
crackled beneath our steps. Whale-skeletons were whitening in the
crevasses of the cliffs. At last the land became narrow as a sandal;
and after casting drops of ocean water toward the sun, we turned to the
right to return.</p>
<p>"So we returned through the Region of Aromatics, by way of the country
of the Gangarides, the promontory of Comaria, the country of the
Sachalites, of the Adramites and of the Homerites; then, across the
Cassanian mountains, the Red Sea, and the Island Topazos, we penetrated
into Ethiopia through the country of the Pygmies."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>to himself</i>).</p>
<p>"How vast the world is!"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span>. "And after we had returned home, we found that all those whom we
used to know, were dead."</p>
<p>(<i>Anthony lowers his head. Silence.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span> (<i>continues</i>).</p>
<p>"Then men began to talk of me the world over.</p>
<p>"The plague was ravaging Ephesus; I made them stone an old mendicant
there."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span>. "And forthwith the plague departed."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "What! Does he drive away pestilence?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "At Cnidos, I cured the man that had become enamored of
Venus."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span>. "Aye! a fool who had even vowed to espouse her! To love a woman
is at least comprehensible; but to love a statue—what madness! The
Master placed his hand upon the young man's heart; and the fire of that
love was at once extinguished."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "How! does he also cast out devils?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "At Tarentum they were carrying the dead body of a young
girl to the funeral pyre."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span>. "The Master touched her lips; and she arose and called her
mother."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "What! he raises the dead!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "I predicted to Vespasian his accession to power."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "What! he foretells the future!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span>. "At Corinth there was a ..."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "It was when I was at table with him, at the waters of Baia
..."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Excuse me, strangers—it is very late ..."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span>. "At Corinth there was a young man called Menippus ..."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "No! no!—go ye away!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "A dog came in, bearing a severed hand in his mouth."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span>. "One evening, in one of the suburbs, he met a woman."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Do ye not hear me? Begone!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "He wandered in a bewildered way around the couches ..."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Enough!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "They sought to drive him out."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span>. "So Menippus went with her to her house; they loved one
another."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "And gently beating the mosaic pavement with his tail, he
laid the severed hand upon the knees of Flavius."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span>. "But next morning, during the lessons in the school, Menippus
was pale."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>starting up in anger</i>).</p>
<p>"Still continuing! Ah! then let them continue till they be weary,
inasmuch as there is no ..."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span>. "The Master said to him: 'O beautiful youth, thou dost caress
a serpent; by a serpent thou art caressed! And when shall be the
nuptials?' We all went to the wedding."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Assuredly I am doing wrong, to hearken to such a story!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span>. "Servants were hurrying to and fro in the vestibule; doors were
opening; nevertheless there was no sound made either by the fall of
the footsteps nor the closing of the doors. The Master placed himself
beside Menippus. And the bride forthwith became angered against the
philosophers. But the vessels of gold, the cupbearers, the cooks, the
panthers disappeared; the roof receded and vanished into air; the walls
crumbled down; and Apollonius stood alone with the woman<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</SPAN></span> at his feet,
all in tears. She was a vampire who satisfied the beautiful young men
in order to devour their flesh, for nothing is more desirable for such
phantoms than the blood of amorous youths."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "If thou shouldst desire to learn the art ..."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "I do not wish to learn anything!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "The same evening that we arrived at the gates of Rome ..."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Oh! yes!—speak to me rather of the City of Popes!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "A drunken man accosted us, who was singing in a low voice.
The song was an epithalamium of Nero; and he had the power to cause
the death of whosoever should hear it with indifference. In a box upon
his shoulders he carried a string taken from the Emperor's cithara. I
shrugged my shoulders. He flung mud in our faces. Then I unfastened my
girdle and placed it in this hand."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span>. "In sooth, thou wert most imprudent!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "During the night the Emperor summoned me to his house. He
was<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</SPAN></span> playing at osselets with Sporus, supporting his left arm upon a
table of agate. He turned and, knitting his brows, demanded: 'How comes
it that thou dost not fear me?' 'Because,' I replied, 'the God who made
thee terrible, also made me intrepid."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>to himself</i>).</p>
<p>"There is something inexplicable that terrifies me!"</p>
<p>(<i>Silence.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span> (<i>breaking the silence with his shrill voice</i>).</p>
<p>"Moreover, all Asia can tell thee ..."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>starting up</i>).</p>
<p>"I am ill! let me be!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span>. "But listen! At Ephesus, he beheld them killing Domitian, who
was at Rome."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>with a forced laugh</i>). "Is it possible?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span>. "Yes: at the theatre at noon-day, the fourteenth of the Kalenda
of October, he suddenly cried out: 'Cæsar is being murdered!' and
from time to time he would continue to ejaculate: 'He rolls upon the
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</SPAN></span>pavement ... Oh! how he struggles ... He rises ... He tries to flee
... The doors are fastened ... Ah! it is all over! He is dead!' And in
fact Titus Flavius Domitianus was assassinated upon that very day, as
thou knowest."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Without the aid of the Devil ... certainly ..."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "He had purposed putting me to death, that same Domitian!
Damis had taken flight according to my order, and I remained alone in
my prison."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span>. "A terrible hardihood on thy part, it must be confessed!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "About the fifth hour, the soldiers led me before the
tribunal. I had my harangue all ready hidden beneath my mantle."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span>. "We others were then upon the shores of Puteoli, we believed
thee dead; we were all weeping, when all of a sudden about the sixth
hour, thou didst suddenly appear before us, exclaiming: 'It is I.'"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>to himself</i>). "Even as He...!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span> (<i>in a very loud voice</i>). "Precisely!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Oh! no! ye lie! is it not so?—ye lie!"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "He descended from heaven. I rise thither, by the power of
my virtue that has lifted me up even to the height of the Principle of
all things!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span>. "Thyana, his natal city, has established in his honor a temple
and a priesthood!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span> (<i>draws near Anthony, and shouts in his ear</i>:—)</p>
<p>"It is because I know all gods, all rites, all prayers, all oracles!
I have penetrated into the cave of Trophonius, son of Apollo! I
have kneaded for Syracusan women the cakes which they carry to the
mountains. I have endured the eighty tests of Mithra! I have pressed to
my heart the serpent of Sabasius! I have received the scarf of Kabiri!
I have laved Cybele in the waters of the Campanian gulfs! and I have
passed three moons in the caverns of Samothracia!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span> (<i>with a stupid laugh</i>).</p>
<p>"Ah! ah! ah! at the mysteries of the good Goddess!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "And now we recommence our pilgrimage.</p>
<p>"We go to the North to the land of Swans and of snows. Upon the vast
white plains,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</SPAN></span> the blind hippopodes break with the tips of their feet
the ultramarine plant."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span>. "Hasten! it is already dawn. The cock has crowed, the horse has
neighed, the sail is hoisted!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "The cock has not crowed! I hear the locusts in the sands, and
I see the moon still in her place."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "We go to the South, beyond the mountains and the mighty
waters, to seek in perfumes the secret source of love. Thou shalt
inhale the odor of myrrhodion which makes the weak die. Thou shalt
bathe thy body in the lake of Rose-oil which is in the Island Junonia.
Thou shalt see slumbering upon primroses that Lizard which awakes
every hundred years when the carbuncle upon its forehead, arriving
at maturity, falls to the ground. The stars palpitate like eyes; the
cascades sing like the melody of lyres; strange intoxication is exhaled
by blossoming flowers; thy mind shall grow vaster in that air; and thy
heart shall change even as thy face."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span>. "Master! it is time! The wind has risen, the swallows awaken,
the myrtle leaves are blown away."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "Yes! let us go!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Nay! I remain here!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "Shall I tell thee where grows the plant Balis, that
resurrects the dead?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span> "Nay; ask him rather for the audrodamas which attracts silver,
iron and brass!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Oh! how I suffer! how I suffer!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span>. "Thou shalt comprehend the voices of all living creatures, the
roarings, the cooings!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "I shall enable thee to ride upon unicorns and upon
dragons, upon hippocentaurs and dolphins!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>weeping</i>). "Oh ... oh!... oh!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "Thou shalt know the demons that dwell in the caverns, the
demons that mutter in the woods, the demons that move in the waves, the
demons that push the clouds!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span>. "Tighten thy girdle, fasten thy sandals!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "I shall explain to thee the reason of divine forms—why
Apollo stands,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</SPAN></span> why Jupiter is seated, why Venus is black, at Corinth,
square-shaped at Athens, conical at Paphos."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>clasping his hands</i>).</p>
<p>"Let them begone! let them begone!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "In thy presence I will tear down the panoplies of the
Gods; we shall force open the sanctuaries, I will enable thee to
violate the Pythoness!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Help! O my God!"</p>
<p>(<i>He rushes to the cross.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "What is thy desire? What is thy dream? Thou needst only
devote the moment of time necessary to think of it ..."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Jesus! Jesus! Help me!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "Dost thou wish me to make him appear, thy Jesus?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "What? How!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "It shall be He!—no other! He will cast off his crown, and
we shall converse face to face!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Damis</span> (<i>in an undertone</i>).</p>
<p>"Say thou dost indeed wish it! say thou dost desire it!"</p>
<p>(<i>Anthony kneeling before the cross, murmurs<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</SPAN></span> prayers. Damis walks
around him, with wheedling gestures.</i>)</p>
<p>"Nay, nay! good hermit. Be not horrified! These are only exaggerated
forms of speech, borrowed from the Orientals. That need in no way ..."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollonius</span>. "Let him alone, Damis!</p>
<p>"He believes, like a brute, in the reality of things. The terror which
he entertains of the Gods prevents him from comprehending them; and he
debases his own God to the level of a jealous king!</p>
<p>"But thou, my son, do not leave me!"</p>
<p>(<i>He moves to the edge of the cliff, walking backward, passes beyond
the verge of the precipice, and remains suspended in air.</i>)</p>
<p>"Above all forms, further than the ends of the earth, beyond the
heavens themselves, lies the world of Idea, replete with the splendor
of the Word! With one bound we shall traverse the impending spaces, and
thou shalt behold in all his infinity, the Eternal, the Absolute, the
Being! Come! give me thy hand! Let us rise."</p>
<p>(<i>Side by side, both rise up through the air, slowly. Anthony, clinging
to the cross, watches them rise. They disappear.</i>)</p>
<hr class="r5" />
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_1_8" id="Footnote_1_8"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_1_8"><span class="label">[1]</span></SPAN> Agape.—Love-feast of the primitive Christians.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_2_9" id="Footnote_2_9"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_2_9"><span class="label">[2]</span></SPAN> John XVI: 12.—T.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_3_10" id="Footnote_3_10"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_3_10"><span class="label">[3]</span></SPAN> See <SPAN href="#NOTE">note</SPAN> at end.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_4_11" id="Footnote_4_11"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_4_11"><span class="label">[4]</span></SPAN> Masheim gives <i>Achamoth.</i> I prefer to remain faithful to
the orthography given by Flaubert.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_5_12" id="Footnote_5_12"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_5_12"><span class="label">[5]</span></SPAN> The French text gives <i>mes pères</i> not <i>nos pères.</i> Elxai,
or Elkhai, who established his sect in the reign of Trajan, was a Jew.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_6_13" id="Footnote_6_13"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_6_13"><span class="label">[6]</span></SPAN> See <SPAN href="#NOTE">note</SPAN>.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_7_14" id="Footnote_7_14"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_7_14"><span class="label">[7]</span></SPAN> The banyan is a fig-tree—the <i>Ficus indicus.</i>—Trans.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_8_15" id="Footnote_8_15"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_8_15"><span class="label">[8]</span></SPAN> Readers may remember Longfellow's exquisite poem "Helena
of Tyre."</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_9_16" id="Footnote_9_16"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_9_16"><span class="label">[9]</span></SPAN> See the second part of "Faust," and <i>Kundry</i> in
"Parsifal."</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h4><SPAN name="V" id="V">V.</SPAN></h4>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>walking to and fro, slowly</i>).</p>
<p>"That one, indeed, seems in himself equal to all the powers of Hell!</p>
<p>"Nebuchadnezzar did not so much dazzle me with his splendours;—the
Queen of Sheba herself charmed me less deeply.</p>
<p>"His manner of speaking of the gods compels one to feel a desire to
know them.</p>
<p>"I remember having beheld hundreds of them at one time, in the island
of Elephantius, in the time of Diocletian. The emperor had ceded to the
Nomads a great tract of country, upon the condition that they should
guard the frontiers; and the treaty was concluded in the name of the
'Powers Invisible.' For the gods of each people were unknown unto the
other people.</p>
<p>"The Barbarians had brought theirs with them. They occupied the
sand-hills bordering the river. We saw them supporting their<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</SPAN></span> idols in
their arms, like great paralytic children;—others, paddling through
the cataracts upon trunks of palm tree, displayed from afar off the
amulets hung about their necks, the tattooings upon their breasts; and
these things were not more sinful than the religion of the Greeks, the
Asiatics, and the Romans!</p>
<p>"When I was dwelling in the temple of Heliopolis I would often consider
the things I beheld upon the walls:—vultures bearing sceptres,
crocodiles playing upon lyres, faces of men with the bodies of
serpents, cow-headed women prostrating themselves before ithyphallic
gods:—and their supernatural forms attracted my thoughts to other
worlds. I longed to know that which drew the gaze of all those calm and
mysterious eyes.</p>
<p>"If matter can exert such power, it must surely contain a spirit. The
souls of the Gods are attached to their images ...</p>
<p>"Those possessing the beauty of forms might seduce. But the others
... those of loathsome or terrible aspect ... how can men believe in
them?..."</p>
<p>(<i>And he beholds passing over the surface of the ground,—leaves,
stones, shells,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</SPAN></span> branches of trees,—then a variety of hydropical
dwarfs: these are gods. He bursts into a laugh. He hears another laugh
behind him;—and Hilarion appears, in the garb of a hermit, far taller
than before, colossal.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>who feels no surprise at seeing him</i>).</p>
<p>"How stupid one must be to worship such things!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "Aye!—exceedingly stupid!"</p>
<p>(<i>Then idols of all nations and of all epochs—of wood, of metal, of
granite, of feathers, of skins sewn together,—pass before them.</i></p>
<p><i>The most ancient of all anterior to the Deluge are hidden under masses
of seaweed hanging down over them like manes. Some that are too long
for their bases, crack in all their joints, and break their own backs
in walking. Others have rents torn in their bellies through which sand
trickles out.</i></p>
<p><i>Anthony and Hilarion are prodigiously amused. They hold their sides
for laughter. Then appear sheep-headed idols. They totter upon their
bandy-legs, half-open their eye-lids, and stutter like the dumb,</i> "Ba!
ba! ba!"</p>
<p><i>The more that the idols commence to resemble<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</SPAN></span> the human forms, the
more they irritate Anthony. He strikes them with his fist, kicks them,
attacks them with fury. They become frightful,—with lofty plumes, eyes
like balls, fingers terminated by claws, the jaws of sharks.</i></p>
<p><i>And before these gods men are slaughtered upon altars of stone; others
are brayed alive in huge mortars, crushed under chariots, nailed upon
trees. There is one all of red-hot iron with the horns of a bull, who
devours children.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Horror!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "But the gods always demand tortures—and suffering. Even
thine desired ..."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>weeping</i>). "Ah! say no more!—do not speak to me!"</p>
<p>(<i>The space girdled by the rocks suddenly changes into a valley. A herd
of cattle are feeding upon the short grass.</i></p>
<p><i>The herdman who leads them, observes a cloud;—and in a sharp voice,
shouts out words of command, as if to heaven.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "Because he needs rain, he seeks by certain chants to compel
the King of heaven to open the fecund cloud."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>laughing</i>).</p>
<p>"Verily, such pride is the extreme of foolishness!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "Why dost thou utter exorcisms?"</p>
<p>(<i>The valley changes into a sea of milk, motionless and infinite. In
its midst floats a long cradle formed by the coils of a serpent, whose
many curving heads shade, like a dais, the god slumbering upon its
body.</i></p>
<p><i>He is beardless, young, more beautiful than a girl, and covered with
diaphanous veils. The pearls of his tiara gleam softly like moons; a
chaplet of stars is entwined many times about his breast, and with one
hand beneath his head, he slumbers with the look of one who dreams
after wine.</i></p>
<p><i>A woman crouching at his feet, awaits the moment of his awaking.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "Such is the primordial duality of the Brahmans,—the
Absolute being inexpressible by any form."</p>
<p>(<i>From the navel of the god has grown the stem of a lotus flower; it
blossoms, and within its chalice appears another god with three faces.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "How strange an invention!"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are but one and the same
Person!"</p>
<p>(<i>The three faces separate; and three great gods appear.</i></p>
<p><i>The first, who is pink, bites the end of his great toe.</i></p>
<p><i>The second, who is blue, uplifts his four arms.</i></p>
<p><i>The third, who is green, wears a necklace of human skulls.</i></p>
<p><i>Before them instantly arise three goddesses—one is enveloped in a
net; another offers a cup; the third brandishes a bow.</i></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="redon11"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/redon_11.jpg" width-obs="600" alt="" /> <div class="caption"><p> ... instantly arise three goddesses</p> </div>
</div>
<p class="p2"><i>And these gods, these goddesses, decuple themselves, multiply. Arms
grow from their shoulders; at the end of these arms hands appear
bearing standards, axes, bucklers, swords, parasols and drums.
Fountains gush from their heads, plants grow from their nostrils.</i></p>
<p><i>Riding upon birds rocked in palanquins, enthroned upon seats of gold,
standing in ivory niches,—they dream, voyage, command, drink wine,
respire the breath of flowers. Dancing girls whirl in the dance; giants
pursue monsters; at the entrances of grottoes solitaries meditate. Eyes
cannot be distinguished<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</SPAN></span> from stars; nor clouds from banderolles;
peacocks quench their thirst at rivers of gold dust; the embroidery
of pavilions seems to blend with the spots of leopards; coloured rays
intercross in the blue air, together with flying arrows, and swinging
censers.</i></p>
<p><i>And all this develops like a lofty frieze, resting its base upon the
rocks, and rising to the sky.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>dazzled by the sight</i>).</p>
<p>"How vast is their number! What do they seek?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "The god who rubs his abdomen with his elephant-trunk, is the
solar Deity, the inspiring spirit of wisdom.</p>
<p>"That other whose six heads are crowned with towers, and whose fourteen
arms wield javelins,—is the prince of armies,—the Fire-Consumer.</p>
<p>"The old man riding the crocodile washes the soul of the dead upon
the shore. They will be tormented by that black woman with the putrid
teeth, who is the Ruler of Hell.</p>
<p>"That chariot drawn by red mares, driven by one who has no legs, bears
the master of the sun through heaven's azure. The moon-god<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</SPAN></span> accompanies
him, in a litter drawn by three gazelles.</p>
<p>"Kneeling upon the back of a parrot, the Goddess of Beauty presents to
Love, her son, her rounded breast. Behold her now, further off, leaping
for joy in the meadows. Look! Look! Coiffed with dazzling mitre, she
trips lightly over the ears of growing wheat, over the waves; she rises
in air, extending her power over all elements.</p>
<p>"And among these gods are the Genii of the winds, of the planets, of
the months, of the days,—a hundred thousand others;—multiple are
their aspects, rapid their transformations. Behold, there is one who
changes from a fish into a tortoise: he assumes the form of a boar, the
shape of a dwarf."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Wherefore?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "That he may preserve the equilibrium of the universe, and
combat the works of evil. But life exhausts itself; forms wear away;
and they must achieve progression in their metamorphoses."</p>
<p>(<i>All upon a sudden appears a</i> <span class="smcap">Naked Man</span> <i>seated in the midst of the
sand, with legs crossed.</i>)</p>
<p>(<i>A large halo vibrates, suspended in air behind<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</SPAN></span> him. The little
ringlets of his black hair in which blueish tints shift symmetrically
surround a protuberance upon the summit of his skull. His arms,
which are very long, hang down against his sides. His two hands rest
flat upon his thighs, with the palms open. The soles of his feet
are like the faces of two blazing suns; and he remains completely
motionless—before Anthony and Hilarion—with all the gods around him,
rising in tiers above the rocks, as if upon the benches of some vast
circus. His lips, half-open; and he speaks in a deep voice</i>):</p>
<p>"I am the Master of great charities, the succor of all creatures; and
not less to the profane than to believers, do I expound the law.</p>
<p>"That I might deliver the world, I resolved to be born among men. The
gods wept when I departed from them.</p>
<p>"I sought me first a woman worthy to give me birth: a woman of warrior
race, the wife of a king, exceedingly good, excessively beautiful,
with body firm as adamant;—and at time of the full moon, without the
auxiliation of any male, I entered her womb.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"I issued from it by the right side. Stars stopped in their courses."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span> (<i>murmurs between his teeth</i>).</p>
<p>"And seeing the star, they rejoiced with exceeding great joy!"<SPAN name="FNanchor_1_17" id="FNanchor_1_17"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_1_17" class="fnanchor">[1]</SPAN></p>
<p>(<i>Anthony watches more attentively.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Buddha</span><SPAN name="FNanchor_2_18" id="FNanchor_2_18"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_2_18" class="fnanchor">[2]</SPAN> (<i>continuing</i>).</p>
<p>"From the furthest recesses of the Himalayas, a holy man one hundred
years of age, hurried to see me."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "A man named Simeon ... who should not see death, before he
had seen the Christ of the Lord."<SPAN name="FNanchor_3_19" id="FNanchor_3_19"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_3_19" class="fnanchor">[3]</SPAN></p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Buddha</span>. "I was led unto the schools; and it was found that I knew
more than the teachers."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "... In the midst of the doctors ... and all that heard him
were astonished at his wisdom!"<SPAN name="FNanchor_4_20" id="FNanchor_4_20"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_4_20" class="fnanchor">[4]</SPAN></p>
<p>(<i>Anthony makes a sign to Hilarion to be silent.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Buddha</span>. "Continually did I meditate<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</SPAN></span> in the gardens. The shadows of
the trees turned with the turning of the sun; but the shadow of that
which sheltered me turned not.</p>
<p>"None could equal me in the knowledge of the Scriptures, the
enumeration of atoms, the conduct of elephants, the working of wax,
astronomy, poetry, pugilism, all the exercises and all the arts!</p>
<p>"In accordance with custom, I took to myself a wife; and I passed the
days in my kingly palace;—clad in pearls, under a rain of perfumes,
refreshed by the fans of thirty thousand women,—watching my peoples
from the height of my terraces adorned with fringes of resonant bells.</p>
<p>"But the sight of the miseries of the world turned me away from
pleasure. I fled.</p>
<p>"I begged my way upon the high roads, clad myself in rags gathered
within the sepulchres;—and, hearing of a most learned hermit, I chose
to become his slave. I guarded his gate! I washed his feet.</p>
<p>"Thus I annihilated all sensation, all joy, all languor.</p>
<p>"Then, concentrating my thoughts within vaster meditation, I learned to
know the essence of things, the illusion of forms.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Soon I exhausted the science of the Brahmans. They are gnawed by
covetousness and desire under their outward aspect of austerity; they
daub themselves with filth, they live upon thorns,—hoping to arrive at
happiness by the path of death!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>.... "Pharisees, hypocrites, whited sepulchres, generation of
vipers!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Buddha</span>. "I also accomplished wondrous things,—eating but one
grain of rice each day (and the grains of rice in those times were no
larger than at present)—my hair fell off; my body became black; my
eyes receding within their sockets, seemed even as stars beheld at the
bottom of a well.</p>
<p>"During six years I kept myself motionless, exposed to the flies, the
lions and the serpents; and the great summer suns, the torrential
rains, lightnings and snows, hails and tempests,—all of these I
endured without even the shelter of my lifted hand.</p>
<p>"The travellers who passed by, believing me dead, cast clods of earth
upon me!</p>
<p>"Only the temptation of the Devil remained!</p>
<p>"I summoned him.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"His sons came,—hideous, scale-covered, nauseous as
charnel-houses,—shrieking, hissing, bellowing; interclashing their
panoplies, rattling together the bones of dead men. Some belched
flame through their nostrils; some made darkness about me with their
wings; some wore chaplets of severed fingers; some drank serpent-venom
from the hollows of their hands;—they were swine-headed; they were
rhinoceros-headed or toad-headed; they assumed all forms that inspire
loathing or affright."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>to himself</i>).</p>
<p>"I also endured all that in other days!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Buddha.</span> "Then did he send me his daughters—beautiful with
daintily painted faces, and wearing girdles of gold. Their teeth were
whiter than the jasmine-flower; their thighs round as the trunk of
an elephant. Some extended their arms and yawned, that they might so
display the dimples of their elbows; some winked their eyes; some
laughed; some half-opened their garments. There were blushing virgins,
matrons replete with dignity, queens who came with great trains of
baggage and of slaves."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>aside</i>). "Ah! he too ..."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Buddha</span>. "Having vanquished the Demon, I nourished myself for twelve
years with perfumes only;—and as I had acquired the five virtues,
the five faculties, the ten forces, the eighteen substances, and had
entered into the four spheres of the invisible world, Intelligence
became mine! I became the Buddha."</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="redon12"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/redon_12.jpg" width-obs="600" alt="" /> <div class="caption"><p>Intelligence became mine! I became the Buddha. </p> </div>
</div>
<p class="p2">(<i>All the gods bow themselves down. Those having several heads, bend
them all simultaneously. He lifts his mighty hand aloft, and resumes</i>:)</p>
<p>"That I might effect the deliverance of beings, I have made hundreds
of thousands of sacrifices! To the poor I gave robes of silk, beds,
chariots, houses, heaps of gold and of diamonds. I gave my hands to the
one-handed, my legs to the lame, my eyes to the blind;—even my head I
severed for the sake of the decapitated. In the day that I was King, I
gave away provinces;—when I was a Brahman I despised no one. When I
was a solitary, I spake kindly words to the robber who slew me. When I
was a tiger I allowed myself to die of hunger.</p>
<p>"And having, in this last existence, preached the law, nothing now
remains for<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</SPAN></span> me to do. The great period is accomplished! Men, animals,
the gods, the bamboos, the oceans, the mountains, the sand-grains of
the Ganges, together with the myriad myriads of the stars,—all shall
die;—and until the time of the new births, a flame shall dance upon
the wrecks of worlds destroyed!"</p>
<p>(<i>Then a great dizziness comes upon the gods. They stagger, fall into
convulsions, and vomit forth their existences. Their crowns burst
apart; their banners fly away. They tear off their attributes, their
sexes, fling over their shoulders the cups from which they quaffed
immortality, strangle themselves with their serpents, vanish in
smoke;—and when all have disappeared</i> ...)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span> (<i>solemnly exclaims</i>):</p>
<p>"Thou hast even now beheld the belief of many hundreds of millions of
men."</p>
<p>(<i>Anthony is prostrate upon the ground, covering his face with his
hands. Hilarion, with his back turned to the cross, stands near him and
watches him.</i></p>
<p><i>A considerable time elapses.</i></p>
<p><i>Then a singular being appears—having the head of a man upon the body
of a fish.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</SPAN></span> He approaches through the air, upright, beating the sand
from time to time with his tail; and the patriarchal aspect of his face
by contrast with his puny little arms, causes Anthony to laugh.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Oannes</span> (<i>in a plaintive voice</i>):</p>
<p>"Respect me! I am the contemporary of beginnings.</p>
<p>"I dwelt in that formless world where hermaphroditic creatures
slumbered, under the weight of an opaque atmosphere, in the deeps of
dark waters—when fingers, fins, and wings were blended, and eyes
without heads were floating like mollusks, among human-headed bulls,
and dog-footed serpents.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="redon13"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/redon_13.jpg" width-obs="600" alt="" /> <div class="caption"><p> ... and eyes without heads were floating like mollusks</p> </div>
</div>
<p class="p2">"Above the whole of these beings, <span class="smcap">Omoroca</span>, bent like a hoop, extended
her woman-body. But Belus cleft her in two halves; with one he made the
earth; with the other, heaven;—and the two equal worlds do mutually
contemplate each other.</p>
<p>"I, the first consciousness of <span class="smcap">Chaos</span>, arose from the abyss that I might
harden matter, and give a law unto forms:—also I taught men to fish
and to sow: I gave them knowledge of writing, and of the history of the
gods.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="redon14"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/redon_14.jpg" width-obs="600" alt="" /> <div class="caption"><p>I, the first consciousness of Chaos, arose from the abyss that I might harden matter, and give a law unto forms</p>
</div>
</div>
<p class="p2">"Since then I have dwelt in the deep pools left by the Deluge. But the
desert grows vaster about them; the winds cast sand into them; the sun
devours them;—and I die upon my couch of slime, gazing at the stars
through the water. Thither I return!"</p>
<p>(<i>He leaps and disappears in the Nile.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "That is an ancient God of the Chaldæans!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>ironically</i>). "What, then, were those of Babylon?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "Thou canst behold them!"</p>
<p>(<i>And they find themselves upon the platform of a lofty quadrangular
tower dominating six other towers, which, narrowing as they rise, form
one monstrous pyramid. Far below a great black mass is visible—the
city, doubtless—extending over the plains. The air is cold; the sky
darkly blue; multitudes of stars palpitate above.</i></p>
<p><i>In the midst of the platform rises a column of white stone. Priests
in linen robes pass and repass around it, so as to describe by their
evolutions a moving circle; and with faces uplifted, they gaze upon the
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</SPAN></span>stars.</i> ...)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. (<i>pointing out several of these stars to Anthony</i>):</p>
<p>"There are thirty principal stars. Fifteen look upon the upper side
of the earth; fifteen below. At regular intervals one shoots from the
upper regions to those below; while another abandons the inferior deeps
to rise to sublime altitudes ...</p>
<p>"Of the seven planets, two are beneficent; two evil; three
ambiguous:—all things in the world depend upon the influence of these
eternal fires. According to their position or movement presages may be
drawn;—and here thou dost tread the most venerable place upon earth.
Here Pythagoras and Zoroaster have met;—here for twelve thousand years
these men have observed the skies that they might better learn to know
the gods."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "The stars are not gods."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "Aye, they say the stars are gods; for all things about us
pass away;—the heavens only remain immutable as eternity."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Yet there is a master!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span> (<i>pointing to the column</i>):</p>
<p>"He! Belus!—the first ray, the Sun, the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</SPAN></span> Male! The Other, whom he
fecundates, is beneath him!"</p>
<p>(<i>Anthony beholds a garden, illuminated by lamps</i>: <i>He finds himself
in the midst of the crowd, in an avenue of cypress-trees. To right and
left are little pathways leading to huts constructed within a wood of
pomegranate trees, and enclosed by treillages of bamboo.</i></p>
<p><i>Most of the men wear pointed caps, and garments bedizened like the
plumage of a peacock. But there are also people from the North clad
in bearskins, nomads wearing mantles of brown wool, pallid Gangarides
with long earrings;—and there seems to be as much confusion of rank
as there is confusion of nations; for sailors and stone-cutters elbow
the princes who wear tiaras blazing with carbuncles and who carry
long canes with carven knobs. All proceed upon their way with dilated
nostrils, absorbed by the same desire.</i></p>
<p><i>From time to time, they draw aside to make way for some long covered
wagon drawn by oxen, or some ass jolting upon his back a woman bundled
up in thick veils, who finally disappears in the direction of the
cabins.</i></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><i>Anthony feels afraid; he half-resolves to turn back. But an
unutterable curiosity takes possession of him, and draws him on.</i></p>
<p><i>At the foot of the cypress-trees there are ranks of women squatting
upon deerskins, all wearing in lieu of diadem, a plaited fillet of
ropes. Some, magnificently attired, loudly call upon the passers-by.
Others, more timid, seek to veil their faces with their arms, while
some matron standing behind them, their mother doubtless, exhorts
them. Others, their heads veiled with a black shawl, and their bodies
entirely nude, seem from afar off to be statues of flesh. As soon as a
man has thrown some money upon their knees, they arise.</i></p>
<p><i>And the sound of kisses is heard under the foliage,—sometimes a great
sharp cry.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "These are the virgins of Babylon, who prostitute themselves
to the goddess."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "What goddess?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "Behold her!"</p>
<p>(<i>And he shows him at the further end of the avenue, upon the threshold
of an illuminated grotto, a block of stone representing a woman.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Ignominy!—how abominable to give a sex to God!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "Thou thyself dost figure him in thy mind as a living person!"</p>
<p>(<i>Anthony again finds himself in darkness.</i></p>
<p><i>He beholds in the air a luminous circle, poised upon horizontal
wings. This ring of light, girdles like a loose belt, the waist of a
little man wearing a mitre upon his head and carrying a wreath in his
hand. The lower part of his figure is completely concealed by immense
feathers outspreading about him like a petticoat.</i></p>
<p><i>It is</i>—<span class="smcap">Ormuzd</span>—<i>the God of the Persians. He hovers in the air above,
crying aloud</i>:)</p>
<p>"I fear! I can see his monstrous jaws! I did vanquish thee, O Ahriman!
But again thou dost war against me.</p>
<p>"First revolting against me, thou didst destroy the eldest of
creatures, Kaiomortz, the Man-Bull. Then didst thou seduce the first
human couple, Meschia and Meschiané; and thou didst fill all hearts
with darkness, thou didst urge thy battalions against heaven!</p>
<p>"I also had mine own, the people of the stars; and from the height of
my throne I<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</SPAN></span> contemplated the marshalling of the astral hosts.</p>
<p>"Mithra, my son, dwelt in heavens inaccessible. There he received
souls, from thence did he send them forth; and he arose each morning to
pour forth the abundance of his riches.</p>
<p>"The earth reflected the splendour of the firmament. Fire blazed upon
the crests of the mountains,—symbolizing that other fire of which
I had created all creatures. And that the holy flame might not be
polluted, the bodies of the dead were not burned; the beaks of birds
carried them aloft toward heaven.</p>
<p>"I gave to men the laws regulating pastures, labour, the choice of wood
for the sacrifices, the form of cups, the words to be uttered in hours
of sleeplessness;—and my priests unceasingly offered up prayers, so
that worship might be as the eternity of God in its endlessness. Men
purified themselves with water; loaves were offered upon the altars,
sins were confessed aloud.</p>
<p>"Homa<SPAN name="FNanchor_5_21" id="FNanchor_5_21"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_5_21" class="fnanchor">[5]</SPAN> gave himself to men to be drank,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</SPAN></span> that they might have his
strength communicated to them while the Genii of heaven were combating
the demons, the children of Iran were pursuing the serpents. The
King, whom an innumerable host of courtiers served upon their knees,
represented me in his person, and wore my coiffure. His gardens had the
magnificence of a heaven upon earth; and his tomb represented him in
the act of slaying a monster,—emblem of Good destroying Evil.</p>
<p>"For it was destined that I should one day definitely conquer Ahriman,
by the aid of Time-without-limits.</p>
<p>"But the interval between us disappears;—the deep night rises! To
me! ye Amschaspands, ye Izeds, ye Ferouers! Succor me, Mithra! seize
thy sword! And thou, Kaosyac, who shall return for the universal
deliverance, defend me! What!—none to aid! Ah! I die! Thou art the
victor, Ahriman!"</p>
<p>(<i>Hilarion, standing behind Anthony, restrains<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</SPAN></span> a cry of joy;—and</i>
Ormuzd <i>is swallowed up in the darkness.</i>)</p>
<p>(<i>Then appears</i>:)</p>
<p class="smcap" style="text-align: center;">The Great Diana of Ephesus</p>
<p>(<i>black with enamelled eyes, her elbows pressed to her side, her
forearms extended, with hands open.</i></p>
<p><i>Lions crawl upon her shoulders; fruits, flowers, and stars intercross
upon her bosom; further down three rows of breasts appear; and from her
belly to her feet she is covered with a tightly fitting sheath from
which bulls, stags, griffins, and bees, seem about to spring, their
bodies half-protruding from it. She is illuminated by the white light
emanating from a disk of silver, round as the full moon, placed behind
her head.</i>)</p>
<p>"Where is my temple? Where are my Amazons?</p>
<p>"What is this I feel?—I, the Incorruptible!—a strange faintness comes
upon me!"...</p>
<p>(<i>Her flowers wither, her over-ripe fruits become detached and fall.
The lions and the bulls hang their heads; the deer foam at the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</SPAN></span> mouth,
with a slimy foam, as though exhausted; the buzzing bees die upon the
ground.</i></p>
<p><i>She presses her breasts, one after the other. All are empty! But under
a desperate effort her sheath bursts. She seizes it by the bottom, like
the skirt of a robe, throws her animals, her fruits, her flowers, into
it,—then withdraws into the darkness.</i></p>
<p><i>And afar off there are voices, murmuring, growling, roaring,
bellowing, belling. The density of the night is augmented by breaths.
Drops of warm rain fall.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "How sweet the odour of the palm trees, the trembling of
leaves, the transparency of springs! I feel the desire to lie flat upon
the Earth that I might feel her against my heart; and my life would be
reinvigorated by her eternal youth!"</p>
<p>(<i>He hears the sound of castanets and of cymbals; and men appear, clad
in white tunics with red stripes,—leading through the midst of a
rustic crowd an ass, richly harnessed, its tail decorated with knots of
ribbons, and its hoofs painted.</i></p>
<p><i>A box, covered with a saddle-cloth<SPAN name="FNanchor_6_22" id="FNanchor_6_22"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_6_22" class="fnanchor">[6]</SPAN> of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</SPAN></span> yellow material shakes to
and fro upon its back, between two baskets,—one receives the offerings
contributed,—eggs, grapes, pears, cheeses, fowls, little coins; and
the other basket is full of roses, which the leaders of the ass pluck
to pieces as they walk before the animal, shedding the leaves upon the
ground.</i></p>
<p><i>They wear earrings and large mantles; their locks are plaited, their
cheeks painted, olive-wreaths are fastened upon their foreheads by
medallions bearing figurines;—all wear poniards in their belts, and
brandish ebony-handled whips, having three thongs to which osselets are
attached.</i><SPAN name="FNanchor_7_23" id="FNanchor_7_23"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_7_23" class="fnanchor">[7]</SPAN></p>
<p><i>Those who form the rear of the procession, place upon the soil,—so as
to remain upright as a candelabrum,—a tall pine, which burns at its
summit, and shades under its lower branches a lamb.</i></p>
<p><i>The ass halts. The saddle-cloth is removed. Underneath appears a
second covering of black felt. Then one of the men in white tunics
begins to dance, rattling his crotali;—another, kneeling before the
box, beats a tambourine and</i>—)</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Oldest of the Band</span>, <i>begins</i>:—</p>
<p>"Here is the Good Goddess, the Idæan of the mountains, the Great Mother
of Syria! Come ye hither, good people all!</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="redon15"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/redon_15.jpg" width-obs="600" alt="" /> <div class="caption"><p>Here is the Good Goddess, the Idæan of the mountains </p> </div>
</div>
<p class="p2">"She gives joy to men, she heals the sick; she sends inheritances; she
satisfies the hunger of love!</p>
<p>"We bear her through the land, rain or shine, in fair weather, or in
foul.</p>
<p>"Oft times we lie in the open air, and our table is not always well
served. Robbers dwell in the woods. Wild beasts rush from their
caverns. Slippery paths border the precipices. Behold her! behold her!"</p>
<p>(<i>They lift off the covering; and a box is seen, inlaid with little
pebbles.</i>)</p>
<p>"Loftier than the cedars, she looks down from the blue ether. Vaster
than the wind she encircles the world. Her breath is exhaled by the
nostrils of tigers; the rumbling of her voice is heard beneath the
volcanoes; her wrath is the tempest; the pallor of her face has
whitened the moon. She ripens the harvest; by her the tree-bark swells
with sap; she makes the beard to grow. Give her something; for she
hates the avaricious!"</p>
<p>(<i>The box opens; and under a little pavilion<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</SPAN></span> of blue silk appears a
small image of Cybele—glittering with spangles, crowned with towers,
and seated in a chariot of red stone, drawn by two lions, with uplifted
paws.</i></p>
<p><i>The crowd presses forward to see.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap"><span class="smcap">THE ARCHIGALLUS</span></span> (<i>continues</i>):</p>
<p>"She loves the sound of resounding tympanums, the echo of dancing
feet, the howling of wolves, the sonorous mountains and the deep
gorges, the flower of the almond tree, the pomegranate and the green
fig, the whirling dance, the snoring flute, the sugary sap, the salty
tear,—blood! To thee, to thee!—Mother of the mountains!"</p>
<p>(<i>They scourge themselves with their whips; and their chests resound
with the blows;—the skins of the tambourines vibrate almost to
bursting. They seize their knives; they gash their arms.</i>)</p>
<p>"She is sorrowful; let us be sorrowful! Thereby your sins will be
remitted. Blood purifies all—fling its red drops abroad like blossoms!
She, the Great Mother, demands the blood of another creature—of a pure
being!"</p>
<p>(<i>The Archigallus raises his knife above the head of a lamb.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>seized with horror</i>):</p>
<p>"Do not slay the lamb!"</p>
<p>(<i>There is a gush of purple blood. The priest sprinkles the crowd
with it; and all—including Anthony and Hilarion—standing around the
burning tree, silently watch the last palpitations of the victim.</i></p>
<p><i>A Woman comes forth from the midst of the priests; she resembles
exactly the image within the little box.</i></p>
<p><i>She pauses, perceiving before her a Young Man wearing a Phrygian
cap. His thighs are covered with a pair of narrow trousers, with
lozenge-shaped openings here and there at regular intervals, closed by
bow knots of coloured material. He stands in an attitude of languor,
resting his elbow against a branch of the tree, holding a flute in his
hand.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Cybele</span> (<i>flinging her arms about his waist</i>).</p>
<p>"I have traversed all regions of the earth to join thee—and famine
ravaged the fields Thou hast deceived me! It matters not! I love thee!
Warm my body in thine embrace! Let us be united!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Atys</span>. "The springtime will never again return, O eternal Mother!
Despite my love, it is no longer possible for me to penetrate<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</SPAN></span> thy
essence! Would that I might cover myself with a painted robe like
thine! I envy thy breasts, swelling with milk, the length of thy
tresses, thy vast flanks that have borne and brought forth all
creatures! Why am I not thou?—Why am I not a woman?—No, never! depart
from me! My virility fills me with horror!"</p>
<p>(<i>With a sharp stone he dismembers himself, and runs furiously from her
...</i></p>
<p><i>The priests imitate the god; the faithful do even as the priests. Men
and women exchange garments, embrace;—and the tumult of bleeding flesh
passes away, while the sound of voices remaining, becomes even more
strident,—like the shrieking of mourners, like the voices heard at
funerals.</i></p>
<p><i> ... A huge catafalque, hung with purple, supports upon its summit an
ebony bed, surrounded by torches and baskets of silver filagree, in
which are verdant leaves of lettuce, mallow and fennel. Upon the steps
of the construction, from summit to base, sit women all clad in black,
with loosened girdles and bare feet, holding in their hands with a
melancholy air, great bouquets of flowers.</i></p>
<p><i>At each corner of the estrade urns of alabaster,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</SPAN></span> filled with myrrh,
slowly send up their smoke.</i></p>
<p><i>Upon the bed can be perceived the corpse of a man. Blood flows from
his thigh. One of his arms hangs down lifelessly;—and a dog licks his
finger nails and howls.</i></p>
<p><i>The row of torches placed closely together, prevents his face from
being seen; and Anthony feels a strange anguish within him. He fears
lest he should recognize some one.</i></p>
<p><i>The sobs of the women cease—and after an interval of silence</i>,)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">All</span> (<i>psalmody together</i>):</p>
<p>"Fair! fair!—all fair he is! Thou hast slept enough!—lift thy
head!—arise!</p>
<p>"Inhale the perfume of our flowers—narcissus—blossoms and anemones,
gathered in thine own gardens to please thee. Arouse thee! thou dost
make us fear for thee!</p>
<p>"Speak to us! What dost thou desire? Wilt thou drink wine?—wilt thou
lie in our beds?—dost wish to eat the honeycakes which have the form
of little birds?</p>
<p>"Let us press his lips,—kiss his breast! Now!—now!—dost thou not
feel our ring-laden fingers passing over thy body?—and our lips that
seek thy mouth?—and our<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</SPAN></span> tresses that sweep thy thighs? O faint God,
deaf to our prayers!"</p>
<p>(<i>They cry aloud, and rend their faces with their nails; then all
rush,—and the howling of the dog continues in the silence.</i>)</p>
<p>"Alas! alas! Woe!—the black blood trickles over his snowy flesh!
See! his knees writhe!—his sides sink in! The bloom of his face hath
dampened the purple. He is dead, dead! O weep for him! Lament for him!"</p>
<p>(<i>In long procession they ascend to lay between the torches the
offerings of their several tresses, that seem from afar off like
serpents, black or blond;—and the catafalque is lowered gently to the
level of, a grotto,—the opening of a shadowy sepulchre that yawns
behind it.</i></p>
<p><i>Then</i>—)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">A Woman</span> (<i>bends over the corpse. Her long hair, uncut, envelopes her
from head to feet. She sheds tears so abundantly that her grief cannot
be as that of the others, but more than human—infinite!</i></p>
<p><i>Anthony dreams of the Mother of Jesus. She speaks</i>:—)</p>
<p>"Thou didst emerge from the Orient, and didst take me, all trembling
with the dew, into<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</SPAN></span> thy arms, O Sun! Doves fluttered upon the azure
of thy mantle; our kisses evoked low breezes among the foliage; and I
abandoned myself wholly to thy love, delighting in the pleasure of my
weakness.</p>
<p>"Alas! alas—Why didst thou depart, to run upon the mountains! A boar
did wound thee at the time of the autumnal equinox!</p>
<p>"Thou art dead; and the fountains weep,—the trees bend down. The wind
of winter whistles through the naked brushwood.</p>
<p>"My eyes are about to close, seeing that darkness covers them! Now thou
dwellest in the underworld near the mightiest of my rivals.</p>
<p>"O Persephone, all that is beautiful descends to thee, never to return!"</p>
<p>(<i>Even while she speaks, her companions lift the dead, to place him
within the sepulchre. He remains in their hands! It was only a waxen
corpse.</i></p>
<p><i>Wherefore Anthony feels something resembling relief.</i></p>
<p><i>All vanish;—and the hut, the rocks, and the cross reappear.</i></p>
<p><i>But upon the other side of the Nile, Anthony<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</SPAN></span> beholds a Woman,
standing in the midst of the desert.</i></p>
<p><i>She retains in her hand the lower part of a long black veil that hides
all her face; supporting with her left arm a little child to whom she
is giving suck. A great ape crouches down in the sand beside her.</i></p>
<p><i>She uplifts her head toward heaven; and in spite of the great
distance, her voice is distinctly heard</i>:)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Isis</span>. "O Neith, Beginning of all things! Ammon, Lord of Eternity;
Pthah, demiurgos; Thoth, his intelligence; gods of the Amenthi,
particular triads of the Nomes,—falcons in the azure of heaven,
sphinxes before the temples, ibises perched between the horns of oxen,
planets, constellations, shore, murmurs of the wind, gleams of the
light,—tell me where I may find Osiris.</p>
<p>"I have sought him in all the canals and all the lakes—aye, further
yet, even to Phœnician Byblos. Anubis, with ears pricked up, leaped
about me, and yelped, and thrust his muzzle searchingly into the tufts
of the tamarinds.</p>
<p>"Thanks, good Cynocephalos—thanks to thee!"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>(<i>She gives the ape two or three friendly little taps upon the head.</i>)</p>
<p>"Hideous Typhon, the red-haired slew him, tore him in pieces! We have
found all his members. But I have not that which rendered me fecund!"</p>
<p>(<i>She utters wild lamentations.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>is filled with fury. He casts stones at her, reviles her.</i>)</p>
<p>"Begone! thou shameless one!—Begone!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "Nay! respect her! Her religion was the faith of thy
fathers!—thou didst wear her amulets when thou wert a child in the
cradle!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Isis</span>. "In the summers of long ago, the inundation drove the impure
beasts into the desert. The dykes were opened, the boats dashed against
each other; the panting earth drank the river with the intoxication of
joy. Then, O God, with the horns of the bull, thou didst lie upon my
breast, and then was heard, the lowings of the Eternal Cow!</p>
<p>"The seasons of sowing and reaping, of threshing and of vintage,
followed each other in regular order with the years. In the eternal
purity of the nights, broad stars beamed and glowed. The days were
bathed<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</SPAN></span> in never-varying splendour. Like a royal couple the Sun and the
Moon appeared simultaneously, at either end of the horizon.</p>
<p>"Then did we both reign above a sublimer world, twin-monarchs, wedded
within, the womb of eternity—he bearing a concupha-headed sceptre; I,
the sceptre that is tipped with a lotus-flower; both of us erect with
hands joined; and the crumblings of empires affected not our attitude.</p>
<p>"Egypt extended, below us, monumental and awful, long-shaped like the
corridor of a temple; with obelisks on the right, pyramids on the
left, and its labyrinth in the midst. And everywhere were avenues
of monsters, forests of columns, massive pylons flanking gates
summit-crowned with the mysterious globe—the globe of the world,
between two wings.</p>
<p>"The animals of her Zodiac also existed in her pasture lands; and
filled her mysterious writing with their forms and colours. Divided
into twelve regions as the year is divided into-twelve months—each
month, each day also having its own god—she reproduced the immutable
order of heaven. And man even in dying changed not his face; but
saturated<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</SPAN></span> with perfumes, invulnerable to decay, he lay down to sleep
for three thousand years in another and silent Egypt.</p>
<p>"And that Egypt, vaster than the Egypt of the living, extended beneath
the earth.</p>
<p>"Thither one descended by dark stairways leading into halls where were
represented the joys of the good, the tortures of the wicked, all that
passes in the third and invisible world. Ranged along the wall the dead
in their painted coffins awaited their turn; and the soul, exempted
from migrations, continued its heavy slumber until the awakening into a
new life.</p>
<p>"Nevertheless, Osiris sometimes came to see me. And by his ghost I
became the mother of Harpocrates."</p>
<p>(<i>She contemplates the child.</i>)</p>
<p>"Aye! it is he. Those are his eyes; those are his locks, plaited into
ram horns! Thou shalt recommence his works. We shall bloom again like
the lotus. I am still the Great Isis!—none has yet lifted my veil! My
fruit is the Sun!</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="redon16"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/redon_16.jpg" width-obs="600" alt="" /> <div class="caption"><p>I am still the Great Isis!—none has yet lifted my veil! My fruit is the Sun!</p>
</div>
</div>
<p class="p2">"Sim of Springtime, clouds now obscure thy face! The breath of Typhon
devours the pyramids. But a little while ago I beheld<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</SPAN></span> the Sphinx flee
away. He was galloping like a jackal.</p>
<p>"I look for my priests,—my priests clad in mantles of linen, with
their great harps, and bearing a mysterious bark, adorned with
silver pateras. There are no more festivals upon the lakes!—no more
illuminations in my delta!—no more cups of milk at Philæ! Apis has
long ceased to reappear.</p>
<p>"Egypt! Egypt! thy great motionless gods have their shoulders already
whitened by the dung of birds; and the wind that passes over the desert
rolls with it and the ashes of thy dead!—Anubis, guardian of ghosts,
abandon me not!"</p>
<p>(<i>The Cynocephalos has vanished. She shakes her child.</i>)</p>
<p>"But ... what ails thee ... thy hands are cold, thy head droops!"</p>
<p>(<i>Harpocrates expires. Then she cries aloud with a cry so piercing,
funereal, heart-rending, that Anthony answers it with another cry,
extending his arms as to support her.</i></p>
<p><i>She is no longer there. He lowers his face, overwhelmed by shame.</i></p>
<p><i>All that he has seen becomes confused<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</SPAN></span> within his mind. It is like the
bewilderment of travel, the illness of drunkenness. He wishes to hate;
but a vague and vast pity fills his heart. He begins to weep, and weeps
abundantly.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "What makes thee sorrowful?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>after having long sought within himself for a reply</i>):</p>
<p>"I think of all the souls that have been lost through these false gods!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "Dost thou not think that they ... sometimes ... bear much
resemblance to the <span class="smcap">True</span>?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "That is but a device of the Devil to seduce the faithful more
easily. He attacks the strong through the mind, the weak through the
flesh."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "But luxury, in its greatest fury, has all the
disinterestedness of penitence. The frenzied love of the body
accelerates the destruction thereof,—and proclaims the extent of the
impossible by the exposition of the body's weakness."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "What signifies that to me! My heart sickens with disgust
of these beautiful bestial gods, forever busied with carnages and
incests!"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "Yet recollect all those things in the Scripture which
scandalize thee because thou art unable to comprehend them! So also may
these Gods conceal under their sinful forms some mighty truth. There
are more of them yet to be seen. Look around!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "No, no!—it is dangerous!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "But a little while ago thou didst desire to know them! Is
it because thy faith might vacillate in the presence of lies? What
fearest thou?"</p>
<p>(<i>The rocks fronting Anthony have become as a mountain. A line of
clouds obscures the mountain half way between summit and base; and
above the clouds appears another mountain, enormous, all green,
unequally hollowed by valleys nestling in its slopes, and supporting at
its summit, in the midst of laurel-groves a palace of bronze, roofed
with tiles of gold, and supported by columns having capitals of ivory.</i></p>
<p><i>In the centre of the peristyle Jupiter,—colossal, with torso
nude,—holds Victory in one hand, his thunderbolts in the other; and
his eagle, perched between his feet, rears its head.</i></p>
<p><i>Juno, seated near him, rolls her large eyes,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</SPAN></span> beneath a diadem whence
her wind-blown veil escapes like a vapour.</i></p>
<p><i>Behind them, Minerva, standing upon a pedestal, leans on her spear.
The skin of the Gorgon covers her breast, and a linen peplos falls in
regular folds to the nails of her toes. Her glaucous eyes, which gleam
beneath her vizor, gaze afar off, attentively.</i></p>
<p><i>On the right of the palace, the aged Neptune bestrides a dolphin
beating with its fins a vast azure expanse which may be sea or sky, for
the perspective of the Ocean seems a continuation of the blue ether:
the two elements are interblended.</i></p>
<p><i>On the other side weird Pluto in night-black mantle, crowned with
diamond tiara and bearing a sceptre of ebony, sits in the midst of an
islet surrounded by the circumvolutions of the Styx;—and this river of
shadow empties itself into the darknesses, which form a vast black gulf
below the cliff,—a bottomless abyss!</i></p>
<p><i>Mars, clad in brass, brandishes as in wrath his broad shield and his
sword.</i></p>
<p><i>Hercules, leaning upon his club, gazes at him from below.</i></p>
<p><i>Apollo, his face ablaze with light, grasps<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</SPAN></span> with outstretched right
arm the reins of four white horses urged to a gallop; and Ceres in her
ox-drawn chariot advances toward him with a sickle in her hand.</i></p>
<p><i>Behind her comes Bacchus, riding in a very low chariot, gently drawn
by lynxes. Plump and beardless, with vine leaves garlanding his brow,
he passes by holding in his hand an overflowing cup of wine. Silenus
riding beside him reels upon his ass. Pan of the pointed ears, blows
upon his syrinx; the Mimalonæides beat drums; the Mænads strew
flowers; the Bacchantes turn in the dance with heads thrown back and
hair dishevelled.</i></p>
<p><i>Diana, with tunic tucked up, issues from the wood together with her
nymphs.</i></p>
<p><i>At the further end of a cavern, Vulcan among his Cabiri, hammers the
heated iron; here and there the aged Rivers leaning recumbent upon
green rocks pour water from their urns; the Muses stand singing in the
valleys</i>.</p>
<p><i>The Hours, all of equal stature, link hands; and Mercury poses
obliquely upon a rainbow, with his caduceus, winged sandals, and winged
petasus.</i></p>
<p><i>But at the summit of the stairway of the Gods,—among clouds soft
as down, from<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</SPAN></span> whose turning volutes a rain of roses falls,—Venus
Anadyomene stands gazing at herself in a mirror:—her eyes move
languorously beneath their slumbrous lids.</i></p>
<p><i>She has masses of rich blond hair rolling down over her shoulders; her
breasts are small; her waist is slender; her hips curve out like the
sweeping curves of a lyre; her thighs are perfectly rounded; there are
dimples about her knees; her feet are delicate: a butterfly hovers near
her mouth. The splendour of her body makes a nacreous-tinted halo of
bright light about her; while all the rest of Olympus is bathed in a
pink dawn, rising gradually to the heights of the blue sky.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Ah! my heart swells! A joy never known before thrills me to
the depths of my soul! How beautiful, how beautiful it is!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "They leaned from the heights of cloud to direct the way of
swords; one used to meet them upon the high roads; men had them in
their houses—and this familiarity divinized life.</p>
<p>"Life's aim was only to be free and beautiful. Nobility of attitude was
facilitated by the looseness of garments. The voice of the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</SPAN></span> orator,
trained by the sea, rolled its sonorous waves against the porticoes of
marble. The ephebus, anointed with oil, wrestled all naked in the full
light of the sun. The holiest of actions was to expose perfection of
forms to all.</p>
<p>"And these men respected wives, aged men, suppliants.</p>
<p>"Behind the temple of Hercules there was an altar erected to Pity.</p>
<p>"Victims were immolated with flowers wreathed about the fingers of the
sacrificer. Even memory was exempted from thoughts of the rottenness
of death. Nothing remained but a little pile of ashes. And the Soul,
mingling with the boundless ether, rose up to God."</p>
<p>(<i>Bending to whisper in Anthony's ear</i>:—)</p>
<p>"And they still live! The Emperor Constantine adores Apollo. Thou wilt
find the Trinity in Samothracian mysteries,—baptism in the religion of
Isis,—redemption in the faith of Mithra,—a martyrdom of a God in the
festivals of Bacchus. Prosperpine is the Virgin!... Aristæus is Jesus!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>remains awhile with downcast eyes, as if in deep thought;
then suddenly repeats<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</SPAN></span> aloud the Symbol of Jerusalem, as he remembers
it, uttering a long sigh between each phrase</i>):—</p>
<p>"I believe in one only God, the Father,—and in one only Lord, Jesus
Christ,—the first born son of God, who was incarnated and made
man,—who was crucified, and buried,—who ascended into Heaven,—who
will come to judge the living and the dead,—of whose Kingdom there
shall be no end;—and in one Holy Spirit,—and in one baptism of
repentance,—and in one Holy Catholic Church,—and in the resurrection
of the flesh,—and in the life everlasting!"</p>
<p>(<i>Immediately the cross becomes loftier and loftier; it pierces the
clouds, and casts its shadow upon the heaven of the gods.</i></p>
<p><i>All grow pale;—Olympus shudders.</i></p>
<p><i>And at its base Anthony beholds vast bodies enchained, sustaining the
rocks upon their shoulders,—giant figures half buried in the deeps
of caverns. These are the Titans, the Giants, the Hecatonchires, the
Cyclops.</i>)</p>
<p class="smcap" style="text-align: center;">A Voice</p>
<p>(<i>rises, indistinct and awful, like the far roar of leaves, like the
voice of forests in time of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</SPAN></span> tempest, like the mighty moaning of the
wind among the precipices</i>):</p>
<p>"We knew these things!—we knew them! There must come an end even for
the Gods! Uranus was mutilated by Saturn,—Saturn by Jupiter. And
Jupiter himself shall be annihilated. Each in his turn;—it is Destiny!"</p>
<p>(<i>And little by little they sink into the mountain, and disappear.</i></p>
<p><i>Meanwhile the golden tiles of the palace rise and fly away.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Jupiter</span> (<i>has descended from his throne. At his feet the thunderbolts
lie, smoking like burning coals about to expire;—and the great eagle
bends its neck to pick up its falling feathers</i>):</p>
<p>"Then I am no longer the master of all things,—most holy, most
mighty, god of the phatrias and Greek peoples,—ancestor of all the
Kings,—Agamemnon of heaven.</p>
<p>"Eagle of apotheoses, what wind from Erebus has wafted thee to me? or,
fleeing from the Campus Martins, dost thou bear me the soul of the last
of the Emperors?</p>
<p>"I no longer desire to receive those of men. Let the Earth keep them;
and let them move upon the level of its baseness. Their hearts<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</SPAN></span> are now
the hearts of slaves;—they forget injuries, forget their ancestors,
forget their oaths,—and everywhere the folly of crowds, the mediocrity
of individuals, the hideousness of races, hold sway!"</p>
<p>(<i>He pants with such violence that his sides seem ready to burst
asunder; he clenches his hands. Weeping</i>, <span class="smcap">Hebe</span> <i>offers him a cup. He
seizes it.</i>)</p>
<p>"No, no! So long as there shall be a brain enclosing a thought, in
whatsoever part of the world;—so long as there shall exist a mind
hating disorder, creating <span class="smcap">Law</span>,—so long will the spirit of Jupiter
live!"</p>
<p>(<i>But the cup is empty. He turns its edge down over his thumbnail.</i>)</p>
<p>"Not one drop left! When the ambrosia fails, the Immortals must indeed
depart!"</p>
<p>(<i>The cup drops from his hands; and he leans against a column, feeling
himself about to die.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Juno</span>. "Thou shouldst not have had so many amours! Eagle, bull, swan,
rain of gold, cloud and flame, thou didst assume all forms,—dissipate
thy light in all elements,—lose thy hair upon all beds! This time
the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</SPAN></span> divorce is irrevocable; and our domination, our very existence,
dissolved."</p>
<p>(<i>She passes away in air.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Minerva</span> (<i>has no longer her spear; and the ravens nesting among the
sculptures of the friezes, wheel about her, peeking at her helmet.</i>)</p>
<p>"Let me see whether my vessels cleave the bright sea, returning to my
three ports,—let me discover why the fields are deserted, and learn
what the daughters of Athens are now doing.</p>
<p>"In the month of Hecatombeon my whole people came to worship me, under
the guidance of their magistrates and priests. Then, all in white robes
and wearing chitons of gold, they advanced the long line of virgins
bearing cups, baskets, parasols; then the three hundred sacrificial
oxen, and the old men having green boughs, the soldiers with clashing
of armour, the ephebi singing hymns, flute players, lyre players,
rhapsodists, dancing women;—and lastly attached to the mast of a
trireme mounted upon wheel, my great veil embroidered by virgins who
had been nourished in a particular way for a whole year. And when it
had been displayed<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</SPAN></span> in all the streets, in all the squares, and before
the temples, in the midst of the ever-chanting procession, it was borne
step by step up the hill of the Acropolis, grazed the Propylæa, and
entered the Parthenon....</p>
<p>"But a strange feebleness comes upon me,—me the Industrious One! What!
what! not one idea comes to me! Lo! I am trembling more than a woman!"</p>
<p>(<i>She turns, beholds a ruin behind her, utters a cry, and stricken by a
fallen fragment, falls backward upon the ground.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hercules</span> (<i>has flung away his lion-skin; and with feet firmly braced,
back arched, teeth clenched, he exhausts himself in immeasurable
efforts to bear up the mass of crumbling Olympus.</i>)</p>
<p>"I vanquished the Cercopes, the Amazons, and the Centaurs. Many were
the kings I slew. I broke the horn of the great river, Achelous. I cut
the mountains asunder; I freed nations from slavery; and I peopled
lands that were desolate. I travelled through the countries of Gaul;
I traversed the deserts where thirst prevails. I defended the gods
from their enemies; and I freed myself from Omphale. But the weight of
Olympus is too<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</SPAN></span> great for me. My arms grow feebler:—I die!"</p>
<p>(<i>He is crushed beneath the ruins.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pluto</span>. "It is thy fault, Amphytrionad;—wherefore didst thou descend
into my empire?</p>
<p>"The vulture that gnaws the entrails of Tityus lifted its head;—the
lips of Tantalus were moistened;—the wheel of Ixion stopped.</p>
<p>"Meanwhile the Kæres extended their claws to snatch back the escaping
ghosts; the Furies tore the serpents of their locks; and Cerberus
fettered by thee with a chain, sounded the death rattle in his throat,
and foamed at all his three mouths.</p>
<p>"Thou didst leave the gate ajar; others have come. The daylight of men
has entered into Tartarus!"</p>
<p>(<i>He sinks into the darkness.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Neptune</span>. "My trident can no longer call up the tempests. The monsters
that terrified of old, lie rotting at the bottom of the sea.</p>
<p>"Amphitrite whose white feet tripped lightly over the foam, the green
Nereids seen afar off in the horizon, the scaly Sirens who stopped
the passing vessels to tell stories, and the ancient Tritons mightily
blowing<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</SPAN></span> upon their shells, all have passed away. All is desolate and
dead; the gaiety of the great Sea is no more!"</p>
<p>(<i>He vanishes beneath the azure.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Diana</span> (<i>clad in black and surrounded by her dogs, which have been
changed into wolves</i>).</p>
<p>"The freedom of the deep forests once intoxicated me; the odours of the
wild beasts and the exhalations of the marshes made me as one drank
with joy. But the women whose maternity I protected, now bring dead
children into the world. The moon trembles with the incantations of
witches. Desires of violence, of immensity, seize me, fill me! I wish
to drink poisons,—to lose myself in vapours, in dreams...!"</p>
<p>(<i>And a passing cloud carries her away.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mars</span> (<i>unhelmed and covered with blood</i>).</p>
<p>"At first I fought alone;—singlehanded I would provoke a whole army by
my insults,—caring nothing for countries or nations, demanding battle
for the pleasure of carnage alone.</p>
<p>"Afterward I had comrades. They marched to the sound of flutes, in good
order, with equal step, respiring above their bucklers,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</SPAN></span> with plumes
loftily nodding, lances oblique. Then on rushed to battle with mighty
eagle cries. War was joyous as a banquet. Three hundred men strove
against all Asia.</p>
<p>"But the Barbarians are returning;—by myriads they come, by millions!
Ah! since numbers, and engines, and cunning are stronger than valour,
it were better that I die the death of the brave!"</p>
<p>(<i>He kills himself.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vulcan</span> (<i>sponging the sweat from his limbs</i>):</p>
<p>"The world is growing cold. The source of heat must be nourished, the
volcanoes and rivers of flowing metal underground. Strike harder!—with
full swing of the arms,—with might and main!"</p>
<p>(<i>The Cabiri wound themselves with their hammers, blind themselves with
sparks, and groping, lose themselves in the darkness.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Ceres</span> (<i>standing in her chariot, impelled by wheels having wings at
their hubs</i>):</p>
<p>"Stop! Stop! Ah! it was with good reason that the exclusion of
strangers, atheists, Epicureans, and Christians was commended!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</SPAN></span> Now the
mystery of the basket has been unveiled; the sanctuary profaned: all is
lost!"</p>
<p>(<i>She descends a precipitous slope—shrieking, despairing, tearing her
hair.</i>)</p>
<p>"Ah! lies, lies! Daira has not been restored to me. The voice of brass
calls me to the dead. This is another Tartarus, whence there is no
return! Horror!"</p>
<p>(<i>The abyss engulfs her.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Bacchus</span> (<i>with a frenzied laugh</i>).</p>
<p>"What matters it? The Archon's wife is my spouse! The law itself reels
in drunkenness! To me the new song, the multiplied forms!</p>
<p>"The fire by which my mother was devoured, flows in my veins! Let it
burn yet more fiercely, even though I perish!</p>
<p>"Male and female, complaisant to all, I abandon myself to you,
Bacchantes! I abandon myself to you, Bacchanalians!—and the vine shall
twine herself about the tree-trunks! Howl! dance! writhe! Loosen the
tiger and the slave!—rend flesh with ferocious bitings!"</p>
<p>(<i>And Pan, Silenus, the Bacchantes, the Mimalonæides, and the
Mænads,—with their serpents, torches, sable masks,—cast flowers<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</SPAN></span> at
each other ... shake their tympanums, strike their thyrsi, pelt each
other with shells, devour grapes, strangle a goat, and tear Bacchus
asunder.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Apollo</span> (<i>furiously whipping his coursers, while his blanching locks are
falling from his head</i>):</p>
<p>"I have left far behind me stony Delos, so pure that all now there
seems dead; and I must strive to reach Delphi ere its inspiring vapour
be wholly lost. The mules browse in its laurel groves. The Pythoness
has wandered away, and cannot be found.</p>
<p>"By a stronger concentration of my power, I will obtain sublime hymns,
eternal monuments; and all matter will be penetrated by the vibrations
of my cithara!"</p>
<p>(<i>He strikes the strings of the instrument. They burst, lashing his
face with their broken ends. He flings the cithara away; and furiously
whipping his quadriga, cries</i>):</p>
<p>"No! enough of forms!—Further, higher!—to the very summit!—to the
realm of pure thought!"</p>
<p>(<i>But the horses back, rear, dash the chariot to pieces. Entangled by
the harness, caught<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</SPAN></span> by the fragments of the broken pole, he falls head
foremost into the abyss.</i></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="redon17"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/redon_17.jpg" width-obs="600" alt="" /> <div class="caption"><p> ... he falls head foremost into the abyss</p> </div>
</div>
<p class="p2"><i>The sky is darkened.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Venus</span> (<i>blue with cold, shivering</i>):</p>
<p>"Once with my girdle I made all the horizon of Hellas.</p>
<p>"Her fields glowed with the roses of my cheeks; her shores were
outlined after the fashion of my lips; and her mountains, whiter than
my doves, palpitated beneath the hands of the statuaries. My spirit's
manifestation was found in the ordinances of the festivals, in the
arrangement of coiffures, in the dialogues of philosophers, in the
constitution of republics. But I have doted too much upon men! It is
Love that has dishonoured me!"</p>
<p>(<i>She casts herself back weeping</i>):</p>
<p>"This world is abominable;—there is no air for me to breathe!</p>
<p>"O Mercury, inventor of the lyre, conductor of souls, take me away!"</p>
<p>(<i>She places one finger upon her lips, and describing an immense
parabola, falls into the abyss.</i></p>
<p><i>Nothing is now visible. The darkness is complete.</i></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><i>Only, that from the eyes of Hilarion escape two flashes, two rays of
lurid light.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>begins at last to notice his immense stature</i>):</p>
<p>"Already several times, while thou wert speaking, it seemed to me thou
wert growing taller; and it was no illusion! How? Explain to me ... Thy
aspect terrifies me!"</p>
<p>(<i>Footsteps are heard approaching.</i>)</p>
<p>"What is that?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span> (<i>extending his arm</i>):</p>
<p>"Look!"</p>
<p>(<i>Then, under a pale beam of moonlight, Anthony distinguishes an
interminable caravan defiling over the summit of the rocks;—and each
voyager, one after the other, falls from the cliff into the gulf below.</i></p>
<p><i>First comes the three great gods of</i> Samothrace,—<span class="smcap">Axieros</span>, <span class="smcap">Axiokeros</span>,
<span class="smcap">Axiokersa</span>,—<i>united together as in a fascia, purple-masked, all with
hands uplifted.</i></p>
<p><i>Æsculapius advances with a melancholy air, not even perceiving
Samos and Telesphorus, who question him with gestures of anguish.</i>
<span class="smcap">Elean Sosipolis</span>, <i>of python-form, rolls his coils toward the abyss.</i>
<span class="smcap">Dosipoena</span>, <i>becomes dizzy, leaps in of her own accord.</i> <span class="smcap">Britomartis</span>,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</SPAN></span>
<i>shrieking with fear, clutches fast the meshes of her net. The Centaurs
come at a wild gallop, and roll pell-mell into the black gulf.</i></p>
<p><i>Behind them, all limping, advance the bands of the mourning Nymphs.
Those of the meadows are covered with dust; those of the woods moan and
bleed; wounded by the axes of the woodcutters.</i></p>
<p><i>The Gelludes, the Strygii, the Empusæ, all the infernal goddesses,
form one pyramid of blended fangs, vipers, and torches;—and seated
upon a vulture-skin at its summit, Eurynome, blue as the flies that
corrupt meat, devours her own arms.</i></p>
<p><i>Then in one great whirl simultaneously disappear the bloody Orthia,
Hymina of Orchomenus, the Laphria of the Patræns, Aphia of Agina,
Bendis of Thrace, Stymphalia with thighs like a bird's. Triopas, in
lieu of three eyes, has now but three empty orbits. Erichthonius, his
legs paralysed, crawls upon his hands like a cripple.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "What a pleasure, is it not!—to see them all in the
abjection of their death-agony! Climb up here beside me, on this<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</SPAN></span> rock;
and thou shalt be even as Xerxes, reviewing his army.</p>
<p>"Beyond there, very far, dost thou behold that fair-bearded giant,
who even now lets fall his sword crimsoned with blood?—that is
the Scythian Zalmoxis between two planets,—Artimpasa, Venus, and
Orsiloche, the Moon.</p>
<p>"Still further away, now emerging from pallid clouds, are the gods whom
the Cimmerians adore, even beyond Thule.</p>
<p>"Their huge halls were warm, and by the gleam of swords that tapestried
the vault, they drank their hydromel from horns of ivory. They ate the
liver of the whale in dishes of brass wrought by the hammers of demons;
or, betimes, they listened to captive sorcerers whose fingers played
upon harps of stone.</p>
<p>"They are feeble! They are cold! The snow makes heavy their bearskins;
and their feet show through the rents in their sandals.</p>
<p>"They weep for the vast fields upon whose grassy knolls they were
wont to draw breath in pauses of battle; they weep for the long ships
whose prows forced a way through the mountains of ice;—and the skates
wherewith<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</SPAN></span> they followed the orb of the poles, upbearing at the length
of their mighty arms all the firmament that turned with them."</p>
<p>(<i>A gust of frosty wind carries them off. Anthony turns his eyes
another way. And he perceives—outlined in black against a red
background—certain strange personages, with chinbands and gauntlets,
who throw balls at one another, leap over each other's heads, make
grimaces, dance a frenzied dance.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "Those are the divinities of Etruria, the innumerable Æsars.</p>
<p>"There is Tages, by whom augury was invented. With one hand he seeks to
augment the divisions of the sky; with the other he supports himself
upon the earth: let him sink therein!</p>
<p>"Nortia gazes at the wall into which she drave nails to mark the number
of the passing years. Its whole surface is now covered; and the period
is accomplished.</p>
<p>"Like two travellers overtaken by a storm, Kastur and Pulutuk,
trembling, seek to shelter themselves beneath the same mantle."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>closes his eyes</i>):</p>
<p>"Enough! Enough!"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>(<i>But with a mighty noise of wings, all the Victories of the Capitol
pass through the air,—hiding their faces with their hands, dropping
the trophies hanging upon their arms.</i></p>
<p><i>Janus,—lord of crepuscules,—flees upon a black ram; and one of his
two faces is already putrified; the other slumbers with fatigue.</i></p>
<p><i>Summanus, the headless god of the dark heavens, presses against his
heart an odd cake shaped like a wheel.</i></p>
<p><i>Vesta, beneath a ruined cupola, tries to relight her extinguished
lamp.</i></p>
<p><i>Bellona gashes her cheeks,—without being able to make that blood flow
by which her devotees were purified.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Mercy!—they weary me!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "Before, they amused thee!"</p>
<p>(<i>And he shows him in a grove of bean-trees,</i> <span class="smcap">A Woman</span>,
<i>naked ............. and a black man, holding in each hand a torch.</i><SPAN name="FNanchor_8_24" id="FNanchor_8_24"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_8_24" class="fnanchor">[8]</SPAN>)</p>
<p>"It is the goddess of Aricia, with the demon Virbius. Her sacerdote,
the King of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</SPAN></span> the grove, had to be an assassin;<SPAN name="FNanchor_9_25" id="FNanchor_9_25"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_9_25" class="fnanchor">[9]</SPAN> and the fugitive
slaves, the despoilers of corpses, the brigands of the Via Salaria, the
cripples of the Pons Sublicius, all the human vermin of the Suburra
worshipped no deities so fervently.</p>
<p>"In the time of Marcus Antonius the patrician women preferred Libitina."</p>
<p>(<i>And he shows him under the shadow of cypresses and rose-trees</i>,
<span class="smcap">Another Woman</span>, <i>clad in gauze. Around her lie spades, litters, black
hangings, all the paraphernalia of funerals. She smiles. Her diamonds
shine afar off through spiders' webs. The Larvæ, like skeletons, show
their bones through the branches; and the Lemures, who are phantoms,
extend their bat-like wings.</i></p>
<p><i>At the end of a field lies the god Terminus, uprooted, and covered
with ordures.</i></p>
<p><i>In the centre of a furrow, the great corpse of Vertumnus is being
devoured by red dogs.</i></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><i>The rustic deities all depart, weeping:—Sartor, Sarrator, Vervactor,
Collina, Vallona, Hostilinus—all wearing little hooded mantles, and
carrying either a hoe, a pitchfork, a hurdle, or a boar-spear.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "Their spirits made prosperous the villa,—with its dovecots,
its parks of dormice, its poultry-yards protected by nets, its warm
stables fragrant with odours of cedar.</p>
<p>"Also they protected all the wretched population who dragged the irons
upon their legs over the flinty ways of the Sabine country,—those who
called the swine together by sound of horn,—those who were wont to
gather the bunches at the very summits of the elms,—those who drove
the asses, laden with manure, over the winding bypaths. The panting
labourer, leaning over the handle of his plough, prayed them to give
strength to his arms; and under the shade of the lindens, beside
calabashes filled with milk, the cow-herds were wont, in turn, to sound
their praises upon flutes of reed."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>sighs.</i>)</p>
<p>(<i>And in the centre of a chamber, upon a lofty estrade, an ivory bed is
visible, surrounded<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</SPAN></span> by persons bearing torches of pine.</i>)</p>
<p>"Those are the deities of marriage. They await the coming of the bride.</p>
<p>"Domiduca should lead her in,—Virgo unfasten her girdle,—Subigo place
her in the bed,—and Præma open her arms, and whisper sweet words into
her ear.</p>
<p>"But she will not come!—and they dismiss the others:—Nona and Decima
who watch by sick-beds; the three Nixii who preside over child-birth;
the two nurses, Educa and Potina; and Carna, guardian of the cradle,
whose bouquet of hawthorne keeps evil dreams from the child.</p>
<p>"Afterwards, Ossipago should strengthen his knees;—Barbatus give him
his first beard; Stimula inspire his first desires; Volupia grant him
his first enjoyment; Fabulimus should have taught him to speak, Numera
to count, Camœna to sing, Consus to reflect."</p>
<p>(<i>This chamber is empty; and there remains only the centenarian Nænia
beside the bed,—muttering to herself the dirge she was wont to howl at
the funerals of aged men.</i></p>
<p><i>But her voice is soon drowned by sharp cries. These are uttered by</i>—</p>
<p><i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Lares Domestici</span>, <i>crouching at the further<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</SPAN></span> end of the atrium,
clad in dog-skins, with flowers wreathed about their bodies,—pressing
their clenched hands against their cheeks, and weeping as loudly as
they can.</i>)</p>
<p>"Where is the portion of food we received at each repast, the kindly
care of the maid-servant, the smile of the matron, the merriment of
the little boys playing at knuckle-bones on the mosaic pavement of the
court-yard? When grown up, they used to hang about our necks their
bullæ of gold or leather!</p>
<p>"What happiness it was, when on the evening of a triumph, the master,
entering, turned his humid eyes upon us! He would recount his combats;
and the little house would be prouder than a palace; sacred as a temple!</p>
<p>"How sweet were the family repasts, above all on the morrow of the
Feralia! Tenderness for the dead appeased all discords; all kissed each
other, while drinking to the glories of the past, and the hopes of the
future.</p>
<p>"But the ancestors, of painted wax, locked up behind us, are slowly
becoming covered with mold. The new races, visiting their own
deceptions upon us, have shattered our jaws;<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</SPAN></span> our wooden bodies are
disappearing piece-meal under the teeth of rats."</p>
<p>(<i>And the innumerable gods, watching over doors, kitchens, cellars,
baths, disperse in every direction—under the form of enormous ants
running over the pavement, or great butterflies soaring away.</i></p>
<p><i>Then a roll of thunder is heard.</i>)</p>
<p class="smcap" style="text-align: center;">A Voice:</p>
<p>"I was the God of Armies, the Lord, the Lord God! I pitched the tents
of Jacob on the hills; and in the midst of the sands I nourished my
chosen people in their flight.</p>
<p>"It was I who consumed the city of Sodom with fire! It was I who
overwhelmed the world with the waters of the Deluge! It was I that
drowned Pharaoh, with all the princes, sons of Kings,—making the sea
to swallow up his chariots of war, and his charioteers!</p>
<p>"I, the Jealous God, held all other gods in abomination. I brayed the
impure in my anger; the mighty I cast down; and swiftly the desolation
of my wrath ran to the right and to the left, like a dromedary loosened
in a field of maize.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"I chose the humble to deliver Israel. Angels, flame-winged, spake to
them from out the bushes.</p>
<p>"Perfumed with spikenard, with cinnamon and myrrh, clad in transparent
robes, and shod with high-heeled sandals,—women of valiant heart went
forth to slay captains. The passing wind carried my prophets with it.</p>
<p>"My law I graved upon tables of stone. Within that law my people were
enclosed, as within a strong citadel. They were my people. I was their
God! The land was mine; the men also belonged to me, together with
their every thought, and all their works, and the tools they wrought
with, and their prosperity.</p>
<p>"My ark reposed within a triple sanctuary,—surrounded by curtains
of purple and lighted candelabra. I had a whole tribe to serve me as
servants, swinging censers; and the high-priest, robed in robes of
hyacinth, wore upon his breast precious stones disposed in symmetrical
order.</p>
<p>"Woe! Woe! the Holy of Holies is open, the veil is rent, the perfumes
of the holocaust are dissipated by all the winds of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</SPAN></span> heaven! The jackal
whines in the sepulchres; my temple is destroyed; my people dispersed!</p>
<p>"The priests have been strangled with the girdles of their robes. The
women languish in captivity; the holy vessels have all been melted!"</p>
<p>(<i>The voice, becoming more distant</i>):</p>
<p>"I was the God of Armies; the Lord, the Lord God!"</p>
<p>(<i>An enormous silence follows,—and deepest night.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "All have passed away!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Some One</span> (<i>replies</i>):</p>
<p>"I remain!"</p>
<p>(<i>And Hilarion stands before him—but transfigured wholly,—beautiful
as an archangel, luminous as a sun, and so lofty that in order to
behold his face</i>—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span></p>
<p><i>is compelled to throw back his head, to look up as though gazing as a
star</i>):</p>
<p>"Who art thou?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span>. "My kingdom is vast as the universe; and my desire knows no
limits. I go on forever,—freeing minds, weighing<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</SPAN></span> worlds,—without
hatred, without fear, without pity, without love, and without God. Men
call me <span class="smcap">Science</span>!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>recoiling from him</i>):</p>
<p>"Say, rather, that thou art ... the Devil!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span> (<i>fixing his eyes upon him</i>:)</p>
<p>"Wouldst thou behold him?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>cannot detach his eyes from that mighty gaze:—the curiosity
of the Devil comes upon him. His terror augments; yet his wish grows
even to boundlessness</i>):</p>
<p>"Yet if I should see him ... if I were to see him!"</p>
<p>(<i>Then in a sudden spasm of wrath</i>):</p>
<p>"The horror that I have of him will free me from his presence
forever!... Yes!"</p>
<p>(<i>A cloven foot appears. Anthony regrets his wish.</i></p>
<p><i>But the Devil flings him upon his horns and bears him away.</i>)</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_1_17" id="Footnote_1_17"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_1_17"><span class="label">[1]</span></SPAN> Matthew II: 10—T.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_2_18" id="Footnote_2_18"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_2_18"><span class="label">[2]</span></SPAN> "Buddha, or more correctly, the Buddha, for Buddha is an
appellative meaning Enlightened."—Max Müller (Chips, Vol. I., 206).</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_3_19" id="Footnote_3_19"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_3_19"><span class="label">[3]</span></SPAN> Luke II: 25-26.—T.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_4_20" id="Footnote_4_20"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_4_20"><span class="label">[4]</span></SPAN> Ibid II: 46-47.—T.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_5_21" id="Footnote_5_21"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_5_21"><span class="label">[5]</span></SPAN> Or, Haoma, also Hom, the sacred plant, whose fermented
juice occupied an important place in the practical rites of Iran.
Supposed to be the same plant known in botany as <i>Sarcostemma
viminalis.</i> Deified in Iranian worship, like the sacred drink <i>Soma</i> in
the Vedic hymns. The <i>Soma</i> was the fermented extract of the <i>Asclepias
acida</i> or <i>Sarcostemma ritalis.</i> See Marius Fontane, "L'Inde Védique,"
"Les Iraniens."—Trans.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_6_22" id="Footnote_6_22"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_6_22"><span class="label">[6]</span></SPAN> Apuleius says, "a silken mantle."—Trans.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_7_23" id="Footnote_7_23"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_7_23"><span class="label">[7]</span></SPAN> Apuleius says, "strung with knuckle-bones of
sheep."—Trans.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_8_24" id="Footnote_8_24"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_8_24"><span class="label">[8]</span></SPAN> This scene, like certain paintings in the Naples museum,
is all suited for public exhibition.—Trans.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_9_25" id="Footnote_9_25"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_9_25"><span class="label">[9]</span></SPAN> Readers will recollect the lines in Macaulay's <i>Lays of
Ancient Rome</i>:</p>
<p>"Beneath Aricia's trees,<br/>
<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Those trees in whose dim shadow</span><br/>
<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">A ghastly priest doth reign,</span><br/>
<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">The priest who slew the slayer,</span><br/>
<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And must himself be slain."</span><br/></p>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</SPAN></span></p>
<h4><SPAN name="VI" id="VI">VI</SPAN></h4>
<p>(<i>He flies beneath him, outstretched like a swimmer; his vast-spreading
wings, wholly concealing him, seem like one huge cloud.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Whither do I go? But a little while ago I beheld in a glimpse
the form of the Accurst. Nay!—'tis a cloud that upbears me! Perhaps I
am dead, and am ascending to God....</p>
<p>"How freely I respire. The immaculate air seems to vivify my soul. No
sense of weight!—no more suffering.</p>
<p>"Far below me the lightning breaks,—the horizon broadens, widens,—the
rivers cross each other. That blond-bright spot is the desert; that
pool of water the ocean!</p>
<p>"And other oceans appear!—vast regions of which I knew nothing!
There are the countries of the blacks, which seem to smoke like
brasiers!—then is the zone of snows always made dim by fog! Would I
might behold<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</SPAN></span> those mountains where the sun, each evening, sinks to
rest!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Devil</span>. "The sun never sinks to rest; the sun never rests!"</p>
<p>(<i>Anthony is not surprised at this voice. It seems to him an echo of
his own thought—a response made by his own memory.</i></p>
<p><i>Meanwhile the earth gradually assumes the shape of a ball; and he
beholds it in the midst of the azure, turning upon its poles, and
revolving with the sun.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Devil</span>. "So it does not form the centre of the universe! Pride of
man! humiliate thyself!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Now I can scarcely distinguish it. It mingles confusedly with
other glowing worlds. The firmament itself is but one tissue of stars."</p>
<p>(<i>And they still rise.</i>)</p>
<p>"No sound!—not even the hoarse cry of eagles! Nothing? I listen for
the harmony of the spheres."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Devil</span>. "Thou wilt not hear them! Nor wilt thou behold the
antichtonus of Plato,—or the central furnace of Philolaüs,—or the
spheres of Aristotle, or the seven heavens of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</SPAN></span> the Jews, with the great
waters above the vault of crystal!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Yet from below the vault seemed solid as a wall!—on the
contrary I penetrate it, I lose myself in it!"</p>
<p>(<i>And he beholds the moon,—like a rounded fragment of ice filled with
motionless light.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Devil</span>. "Formerly it was the sojourn of souls! Even the good
Pythagoras adorned it with magnificent flowers, populated it with
birds!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "I can see only desolate plains there, with extinct craters
yawning under a black sky!</p>
<p>"Let us go towards those milder-beaming stars, that we may contemplate
the angels who uphold them at arms' length, like torches!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Devil</span> (<i>bears him into the midst of the stars</i>):</p>
<p>"They attract at the same time that they repel each other. The
action of each one results from that of others, and contributes
thereunto,—without the aid of any auxiliary, by the force of a law,
the virtue of order alone!"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Yes!... yes! My intelligence grasps the great truth! It is
a joy greater than all tender pleasures! Breathless I find myself with
astonishment at the enormity of God!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Devil</span>. "Even as the firmament ever rises as thou dost ascend, so
with the expansion of thy thought will He become greater to thee; and
after this discovery of the universe thou wilt feel thy joy augment
with the broadening and deepening of the infinite."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Ah! higher!—higher still!—- forever higher!"</p>
<p>(<i>Then the stars multiply, scintillate. The Milky Way develops in the
zenith like a monstrous belt, with holes at intervals; through these
rents in its brightness stretches of prolonged darkness are visible.
There are rains of stars, long trains of golden dust, luminous vapours
that float and dissolve.</i></p>
<p><i>At times a comet suddenly passes by; then the tranquillity of
innumerable lights recommences.</i></p>
<p><i>Anthony, with outstretched arms, supports himself upon the Devil's
horns, and thus occupies all the space between them.</i></p>
<p><i>He remembers with disdain the ignorance of other days, the mediocrity
of his dreams.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</SPAN></span> And now those luminous globes he was wont to gaze upon
from below, are close to him. He distinguishes the intercrossing of
the lines of their orbits, the complexity of their courses. He beholds
them coming from afar,—and, like stones suspended in a sling, describe
their circles, form their hyperbolas.</i></p>
<p><i>He perceives, all within the field of his vision at once, the Southern
Cross and the Great Bear, the Lynx and the Centaur, the nebula of
Dorado, the six suns in the constellation of Orion, Jupiter with his
four satellites, and the triple ring of the monstrous Saturn!—all the
planets, all the stars that men will discover in the future. He fills
his eyes with their light; he over-burthens his mind with calculation
of their distances: then, bowing his head, he murmurs</i>):</p>
<p>"What is the purpose of all that?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Devil</span>. "There is no purpose. How could God have a purpose? What
experience could have instructed him?—what reflection determined him?</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="redon18"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/redon_18.jpg" width-obs="600" alt="" /> <div class="caption"><p> Anthony: What is the purpose of all that? The Devil: There is no purpose.</p>
</div>
</div>
<p class="p2">"Before the beginning he could not have acted;—and now his action
would be useless."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Yet he created the world, at one time, by his word only."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Devil</span>. "But the beings that people the earth come upon it
successively. So also, in heaven, new stars arise—different effects of
varying causes."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "The varying of causes is the will of God!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Devil</span>. "But to admit several acts of will in God is to admit
various causes, and therefore to deny his unity.</p>
<p>"His will is inseparable from his essence. He can have but one will,
having but one essence; and inasmuch as he externally exists, he acts
eternally.</p>
<p>"Contemplate the sun! From its surface leap vast jets of flame, casting
forth sparks that disperse beyond to become worlds here-after;—and
further than the last, far beyond those deeps where thou seest only
night, whirl other suns,—and behind them others again, and beyond
those yet others ... without end!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Enough! Enough! I fear!—I will fall into the abyss!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Devil</span> (<i>pauses, and rocks Anthony gently in the midst of space</i>).</p>
<p>"Nothingness is—not—there is no void! Everywhere and forever bodies
move upon<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</SPAN></span> the immovable deeps of space! Were there boundaries to
space, it would not be space, but a body only: it is limitless!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>stupefied by wonder</i>):</p>
<p>"Limitless!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Devil</span>. "Ascend skyward forever and forever,—yet thou wilt not
attain the summit. Descend below the earth for billions of billions of
centuries: never wilt thou reach the bottom. For there is no summit,
there is no bottom; there is no Above, no Below—nor height, nor
depth as signified by the terms of human utterance. And Space itself
is comprised in God, who is not a portion thereof of such or such a
size,—but is Immensity itself!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>slowly</i>):</p>
<p>"Matter..., then,... must be a part of God?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Devil</span>. "Why not? Canst thou know the end of God?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Nay: on the contrary, I prostrate, I crush myself beneath his
mightiness!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Devil</span>. "And yet thou dost pretend to move him! Thou dost speak to
him,—thou dost even adorn him with virtues,—with<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</SPAN></span> goodness, justice,
mercy,—in lieu of recognising that all perfections are his!</p>
<p>"To conceive aught beyond him is to conceive God above God, the Being
above the Being. For He is the only being, the only substance.</p>
<p>"If the Substance could be divided, it would not be the Substance, it
would lose its nature: God could not exist. He is therefore indivisible
as infinite;—and if he had a body, he would be composed of parts,
he would not be One—he would not be infinite. Therefore he is not a
Person!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "What? my prayers, my sobs, my groans, the sufferings of my
flesh, the transports of my love,—have all these things gone out to a
lie,—to emptiness, unavailingly—like the cry of a bird, like a whirl
of dead leaves?"</p>
<p>(<i>Weeping</i>):</p>
<p>"Oh, no!—there is Some One above all things,—a great Soul, a Lord, a
Father whom my heart adores and who must love me!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Devil</span>. "Thou dost desire that God were not God;—for did he feel
love, or anger, or pity,—he would abandon his perfection for a greater
or a lesser perfection. He can<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</SPAN></span> stoop to no sentiment, nor be contained
in any form."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "One day, nevertheless, I shall see him!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Devil</span>. "With the blessed, is it not?—when the finite shall enjoy
the infinite in some restricted place, containing the Absolute!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Matters not!—there must be a paradise for the good, as there
is a hell for the wicked."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Devil</span>. "Can the desire of thy mind create the law of the universe?
Without doubt evil is indifferent to God,—forasmuch as the Earth is
covered with it!</p>
<p>"Is it through impotence that he endures it, or through cruelty that he
maintains it?</p>
<p>"Dost thou fancy that he is eternally readjusting the world, like an
imperfect machine?—that he is forever watching the movements of all
beings, from the flight of a butterfly to the thought of a man?</p>
<p>"If he have created the universe, his providence is superfluous. If
Providence exists, then creation is defective.</p>
<p>"But evil and good concern only thee—even like night and day, pleasure
and pain, death<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</SPAN></span> and birth, which are relative only to one corner
of space, to a special centre, to a particular interest. Since the
Infinite is permanent, the Infinite is;—and that is all."</p>
<p>(<i>The Devil's wings have been gradually expanding: now they cover all
space.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>now perceives nothing: a great faintness comes upon him</i>):</p>
<p>"A hideous cold freezes me, even to the depths of my soul! This is
beyond the extreme of pain! It is like a death that is deeper than
death! I roll in the immensity of darkness; and the darkness itself
enters within me. My consciousness bursts beneath this dilation of
nothingness!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Devil</span>. "Yet the knowledge of things comes to thee only through the
medium of thy mind. Even as a concave mirror, it deforms the objects
it reflects; and thou hast no means whatever of verifying their
exactitude."</p>
<p>"Never canst thou know the universe in all its vastness; consequently
it will never be possible for thee to obtain an idea of its cause,
to have a just notion of God, nor even to say that the universe is
infinite,—for thou<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</SPAN></span> must first be able to know what the Infinite is!"</p>
<p>"May not Form be, perhaps, an error of thy senses,—Substance a figment
of thy imagination?"</p>
<p>"Unless, indeed, that the world being a perpetual flux<SPAN name="FNanchor_1_26" id="FNanchor_1_26"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_1_26" class="fnanchor">[1]</SPAN> of things,
appearance, on the contrary, be wholly true; illusion the only reality."</p>
<p>"But art thou sure thou dost see?—art thou even sure thou dost live?
Perhaps nothing exists!"</p>
<p>(<i>The Devil has seized Anthony, and, holding him at arms' length,
glares at him with mouth yawning as though to devour him</i>):</p>
<p>"Adore me, then!—and curse the phantom thou callest God!"</p>
<p>(<i>Anthony lifts his eyes with a last effort of hope.</i></p>
<p><i>The Devil abandons him.</i>)</p>
<hr class="r5" />
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_1_26" id="Footnote_1_26"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_1_26"><span class="label">[1]</span></SPAN> The original text seems to me slightly obscure. The
idea of the universe being a perpetual ebb and flow of shapes, is
that of forms passing away to reappear like waves, is that of the
Nidana-Sutris: "Individuality is only a form ... <i>Everything is only
a flux of aggregates</i>, interminably uniting and disuniting," as Barth
observes in his "Religions of India."—Trans.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h4><SPAN name="VII" id="VII">VII</SPAN></h4>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>finds himself lying upon his back, at the verge of the cliff.</i></p>
<p><i>The sky commences to blanch.</i>)</p>
<p>"Is it the glow of dawn, or only an effect of moonlight?"</p>
<p>(<i>He tries to rise, falls back,—his teeth chattering</i>):</p>
<p>"I feel such a helplessness of weakness, as though all my bones were
broken!</p>
<p>"Why?</p>
<p>"Ah! the Devil!—I remember!—he even repeated to me all that I
learned from the aged Didymus respecting the opinions of Xenophanes,
Heraclitus, of Melissus, of Anaxagoras,—concerning the infinite, the
creation, the impossibility of knowing anything!</p>
<p>"And yet I believed that I could unite myself to God!"</p>
<p>(<i>Laughing bitterly</i>):</p>
<p>"Ah! madness! madness! Is the fault<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</SPAN></span> mine? Prayer has become
intolerable to me! My heart is dry as a rock! Once, it was wont to
overflow with love!...</p>
<p>"The sand used to smoke of mornings like the odourous dust of a
censer;—at sunset flowers of fire used to bloom upon the cross; and in
the middle of the night, it often seemed as though all beings and all
things, lying under the same awful silence, were adoring the Lord with
me. O charms of prayer, felicities of ecstasy, gifts of heaven,—what
have become of you?</p>
<p>"I remember a voyage I made with Ammon in search of a solitary place
suited for the establishment of a monastery. It was the last evening;
we hastened our steps, walked side by side, murmuring hymns, without
conversing. As the sun sank, the shadows of our bodies lengthened like
two obelisks, continually growing taller, and moving before us. Here
and there we planted crosses, made with fragments of our sticks, to
mark the site of a future cell. Night was tardy in her coming; and
waves of darkness overspread the earth, even while a vast rose-coloured
light still glowed in heaven.</p>
<p>"When I was a child, I used to amuse myself<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</SPAN></span> by building hermitages
with pebbles. My mother sitting beside me would watch me so attentively!</p>
<p>"Will she not have cursed me for having abandoned her?—will she not
have plucked out her white hair by handfuls in the despair of her
grief? And her corpse remains lying on the floor of the hut, under the
roof of reeds, between the crumbling walls. Through an orifice a hyena,
snuffing, thrusts his head, advances his mouth ... horror! horror!"</p>
<p>(<i>Sobbing</i>):</p>
<p>"No: Ammonaria will not have abandoned her! Where is she
now,—Ammonaria?</p>
<p>"Perhaps at the further end of a bathroom, she removes her garments
one after the other: first the mantle, then the girdle, then the first
tunic, the second lighter tunic, all her necklaces,—and the vapour
of cinnamon envelops her naked limbs. At last she lies down upon the
tepid mosaic. Her long hair spreading below the curve of her hips,
seems like a sable fleece; and the oppressiveness of the heated air
causes her to pant; her waist arched, her breasts standing out ...
What! my flesh rebels again! Even in the midst of grief am I tortured
by concupiscence.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</SPAN></span> To be subjected thus unto two tortures at once is
beyond endurance! I can no longer bear myself!"</p>
<p>(<i>He leans over, and gazes into the abyss.</i>)</p>
<p>"The man who should fall would be killed. Nothing easier: it were only
necessary to roll over upon my left side:—only one movement—one!"</p>
<p>(<i>Then suddenly appears</i>—<span class="smcap">An Aged Woman</span>. <i>Anthony starts to his feet in
affright. It seems to him that he beholds his mother arisen.</i></p>
<p><i>But this woman is far older, and prodigiously thin.</i></p>
<p><i>A shroud, knotted about her head, hangs down, together with her white
hair, so as to cover her legs, slender as crutches. The brilliancy of
her ivory-coloured teeth make her earthy skin darker still. The orbits
of her eyes are full of shadow; and far back within them two flames
vacillate, like the lamps of sepulchres.</i></p>
<p><i>She exclaims</i>):</p>
<p>"Advance! What hinders thee?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>stammering</i>):</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"I fear ... to commit a sin!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">She</span> (<i>replies</i>):</p>
<p>"But King Saul killed himself! Razias, a just man, killed himself!
Saint Pelagia of Antioch killed herself! Dommina of Aleppo and her two
daughters—all three saints—killed themselves: and remember also how
many confessors delivered themselves up to the executioner in their
impatient longing for death! That they might enjoy death more speedily,
the virgins of Miletus strangled themselves with their girdles. At
Syracuse the philosopher Hegesias preached so eloquently upon death
that men deserted the lupanars to go hang themselves in the fields. The
patricians of Borne sought for death as a new form of debauch."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Aye! the love of death is strong; and many a anchorite has
succumbed to it."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Old Woman</span>. "To do that which will make thee equal unto God—think!
He created thee: thou wilt destroy his work—thou! and by thy
courage,—of thy own free will! The enjoyment that Erostratus knew was
not greater than this. And moreover thy body has so long mocked thy
soul that it is full time thou shouldst take vengeance upon it.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</SPAN></span> Thou
wilt not suffer. It will soon be over. Of what art thou afraid?—a
wide, black hole! Perhaps it is a void!"</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="redon19"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/redon_19.jpg" width-obs="600" alt="" /> <div class="caption"><p>The Old Woman: Of what art thou afraid?—a wide, black hole! Perhaps it is a void!</p>
</div>
</div>
<p class="p2">(<i>Anthony hearkens without replying; and upon the other side appears</i>—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Another Woman</span>—<i>young and marvellously beautiful. At first he takes
her to be Ammonaria. But she is taller, blond as honey, very plump,
with paint upon her cheeks and roses upon her head. Her long robe,
weighty with spangles, gleams with metallic lustre;—her fleshy lips
are sanguinolent; and her somewhat heavy eyelids are so drowned with
languor that one would almost take her to be blind.</i></p>
<p><i>She murmurs</i>):</p>
<p>"Nay, live! enjoy! Solomon counsels joy! Follow the guiding of thy
heart and the desire of thine eyes!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "What joy is there for me? My heart is weary; my eyes are dim!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">She</span> (<i>answers</i>):</p>
<p>"Seek the suburb of Racotis; push open a door that is painted
blue;—and when thou shalt be in the atrium where a fountain jet
murmurs unceasingly, a woman will present herself before thee—in
peplos of white silk<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</SPAN></span> striped with gold; her hair is unloosed, her
laugh like the clatter of crotali. She is skilful. In her caress thou
wilt taste the pride of initiation and the appeasement of desire.</p>
<p>"Hast ever pressed to thy bosom a virgin who loved thee? Dost remember
the surrenders of her modesty,—the passing away of her remorse in a
sweet flow of tears?</p>
<p>"Thou canst even now imagine thyself walking with her—canst thou
not?—in the wood by the light of the moon? At each pressure of your
joined hands, a sweet shuddering passes through you both,—looking
closely into each other your eyes seem to outpour into one another
something like immaterial fluid;—and thy heart fills: it bursts: it is
a suave whirl of eddying passion, an overflowing of intoxication...."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Old Woman</span>. "One need not possess joys in order to taste their
bitterness! Even to view them from afar off begets loathing of them.
Thou must be fatigued by the monotony of the same actions, the length
of the days, the hideousness of the world, the stupidity of the sun?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Aye, indeed!—I loathe all that he shines upon."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Young Woman</span>. "Hermit! hermit! thou wilt find diamonds among the
flints, fountains beneath the sand, a delectation in all the hazards
thou dost despise; and there are even upon earth places of such beauty
that the sight of them would make thee desire to press the whole world
against thy heart with love!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Old Woman</span>. "Each evening that thou liest down upon the earth to
slumber, thou dost hope that it may soon lie upon thee and cover thee."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Young Woman</span>. "Yet thou dost believe in the resurrection of the
flesh—which is but the translation of life into eternity!"</p>
<p>(<i>Even as she speaks, the Old Woman becomes still more fleshless; and
above her skull, from which the white hair has disappeared, a bat
circles in the air.</i></p>
<p><i>The Young Woman has become fatter. Her robe gleams with shifting
colours; her nostrils palpitate, her eyes roll softly.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Former</span> (<i>opening her arms, exclaiming</i>):</p>
<p>"Come to me!—I am Consolation, repose, oblivion, eternal calm!"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Other</span>.</p>
<p>"I am the sleep-giver, life, happiness inexhaustible!"</p>
<p>(<i>Anthony turns to fee from them. Each lays a hand on his shoulder.</i></p>
<p><i>The Shroud parts, exposes the Skeleton of Death.</i></p>
<p><i>The robe splits asunder, and leaves the whole body of Lust
exposed:—her waist is slender; her long and undulating hair flutters
in the wind.</i></p>
<p><i>Anthony stands motionless between the two, considering them</i>):</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Death</span> (<i>says to him</i>):</p>
<p>"What matters it, whether now or at another time! Thou art mine,—like
suns, nations, cities, kings, mountain-snows, and the grasses of the
fields. I fly higher than the hawks of heaven. I run more swiftly than
the gazelle; I overtake even Hope; I vanquished the Son of God!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lust</span>. "Resist not! I am the Omnipotent! The forests re-echo with my
sighs; the waters tremble with my agitations. Virtue, courage, piety,
dissolve in the perfume of my mouth. Man I accompany in every step<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</SPAN></span>
that he makes; and even from the threshold of the tomb he turns to me!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Death</span>. "I will find for thee that which thou hast vainly sought for,
by the gleam of torches, upon the faces of the dead,—or among those
awful sands that are formed of human remains, where thou wast wont to
wander beyond the Pyramids. From time to time, the fragment of a skull
rolled under thy sandal. Thou didst take up the dust: thou didst let it
trickle through thy fingers; and thy thought, blending with it, sank
into nothingness."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lust</span>. "My gulf is deeper! Marbles have inspired loves. Men rush to
conjunctures that terrify. Fetters are riveted that the fettered curse.
Whence the bewitchment of courtesans, the extravagance of dreams, the
immensity of my sadness?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Death</span>. "Mine irony depasseth all others! There are convulsions of
delight at the funerals of kings, at the extermination of a whole
people; and war is made with music, with plumes, with harness of
gold,—with vast display of ceremony that my due of homage may be
greater!"</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="redon203"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/redon2_03.jpg" width-obs="600" alt="" /> <div class="caption"><p>Death: Mine irony depasseth all others!</p> </div>
</div>
<p class="p2">Lust. "My rage equals thine! I also yell;<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</SPAN></span> I bite! I, too, have sweats
of agony, and aspects cadaverous!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Death</span>. "It is I that make thee awful! Let us intertwine!"</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="redon20"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/redon_20.jpg" width-obs="600" alt="" /> <div class="caption"><p>Death: It is I that make thee awful! Let us intertwine!</p> </div>
</div>
<p class="p2">(<i>Death laughs mockingly; Lust roars. They clasp each other about the
waist, and chant alternately</i>):</p>
<p>"I hasten the dissolution of matter!"</p>
<p>"I facilitate the dispersion of germs!"</p>
<p>"Thou dost destroy for my renovations!"</p>
<p>"Thou dost engender for my destructions!"</p>
<p>"Ever-active my power!"</p>
<p>"Fecund, my putrefaction!"</p>
<p>(<i>And their voices, whose rolling echoes fill the horizon, deepen and
become so mighty that Anthony falls backward as if thunder-stricken. A
shock from time to time causes him to reopen his eyes; and he perceives
in the midst of the darkness a manner of monster before him.</i></p>
<p><i>It is a skull, crowned with roses, dominating the torso of a woman
nacreously white. Below, a shroud starred with specks of gold forms
something like a tail; and the whole body undulates, after the fashion
of a gigantic worm erect on end.</i></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><i>The vision attenuates,—disappears.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>rising to his feet</i>):</p>
<p>"The Devil yet again, and under his two-fold aspect: the spirit of
fornication, and the spirit of destruction.</p>
<p>"Neither affrights me! I repel happiness; and I know myself to be
eternal.</p>
<p>"Thus death is only an illusion, a veil-masking betimes the continuity
of life.</p>
<p>"But Substance being unique, wherefore should forms be varied?</p>
<p>"Somewhere there must be primordial figures, whose bodily forms are
only symbols. Could I but see them, I would know the link between
matter and thought; I would know in what Being consists.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="redon204"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/redon2_04.jpg" width-obs="600" alt="" /> <div class="caption"><p>Anthony: Somewhere there must be primordial figures, whose bodily forms are only symbols</p>
</div>
</div>
<p class="p2">"Such were the figures painted at Babylon upon the walls of the
temple of Belus; and others like them covered a mosaic in the port of
Carthage. I myself have sometime beheld in the sky, as it were, forms
of spirits. Those who cross the desert meet with animals surpassing all
conception...."</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="redon21"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/redon_21.jpg" width-obs="600" alt="" /> <div class="caption"><p>I myself have sometime beheld in the sky, as it were, forms of spirits</p>
</div>
</div>
<p class="p2">(<i>And opposite, upon the further side of the Nile, suddenly appears
the Sphinx.<SPAN name="FNanchor_1_27" id="FNanchor_1_27"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_1_27" class="fnanchor">[1]</SPAN> He<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</SPAN></span> stretches his paws, shakes the bandelets upon his
forehead, and crouches upon his belly.</i></p>
<p><i>Leaping, flying, spitting fire through her nostrils, lashing her
winged sides with her dragon-tail, the green-eyed Chimera circles,
barks.</i></p>
<p><i>The thick curls of her head tossed back upon one side mingle with
the hair of her loins; on the other side they hang down to the sand,
quivering with the swinging of her body, to and fro.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Sphinx</span> (<i>remaining motionless, and gazing at the Chimera</i>):</p>
<p>"Hither, Chimera! rest awhile!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Chimera</span>. "No! never!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Sphinx</span>. "Do not run so fast, do not fly so high, do not bark so
loudly!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Chimera</span>. "Do not call me!—call me no more; since thou must remain
forever dumb."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Sphinx</span>. "Cease casting thy flames in my face, and uttering thy
yells in my ear: thou canst not melt my granite."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Chimera</span>. "Thou shalt not seize me, terrible sphinx!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Sphinx</span>. "Thou art too mad to dwell with me!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Chimera</span>. "Thou art too heavy to follow me!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Sphinx</span>. "Yet whither goest thou, that thou shouldst run so fast?"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Chimera</span>. "I gallop in the corridors of the Labyrinth—I hover above
the mountains—I graze the waves in my flight—I yelp at the bottom of
precipices—I suspend myself with my mouth from the skirts of clouds—I
sweep the shores with my dragging tail; and the curves of the hills
have taken their form from the shape of my shoulders! But thee I find
perpetually immobile, or perhaps making strange designs with thy claws
upon the sand."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Sphinx</span>. "It is because I keep my secret;—I dream and calculate.</p>
<p>"The sea returns to its bed; the wheat bends back and forth in the
wind; the caravans pass by; the dust flies; cities crumble; and yet
my gaze, which naught can deviate, remains fixed, gazing through all
intervening things, upon a horizon that none may reach."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="redon205"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/redon2_05.jpg" width-obs="600" alt="" /> <div class="caption"><p>The Sphinx: ... and yet my gaze, which naught can deviate, remains fixed, gazing through all
intervening things, upon a horizon that none may reach.
The Chimera: I am light and joyous!</p>
</div>
</div>
<p class="p2"><span class="smcap">The Chimera</span>. "I am light and joyous! I offer to the eyes of men
dazzling perspectives with Paradise in the clouds above, and
unspeakable felicity afar off. Into their souls I pour the eternal
madnesses; projects of happiness, plans for the future, dreams of glory
and vows of love, and all virtuous resolutions.</p>
<p>"I urge men to perilous voyages and great enterprises. I have chiselled
with my claws the wonders of architecture. It was I who suspended the
little bells above the tomb of Porsenna, and surrounded the quays of
Atlantis with a wall of orichalcum.</p>
<p>"I seek for new perfumes, for vaster flowers, for pleasures never felt
before. If I perceive in any place a man whose mind reposes in wisdom,
I fall upon him, and strangle him."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Sphinx</span>. "All those tormented by the desire of God, I have devoured.</p>
<p>"In order to climb up to my royal brow, the strongest ascend upon the
flutings of my bandelets as upon the steps of a stairway. Then a great
lassitude comes upon them, and they fall backward."</p>
<p>(<i>Anthony begins to tremble.</i></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><i>He is no longer before his cabin, but in the desert itself, with those
two monsters beside him, whose breath is hot upon his shoulders.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Sphinx</span>. "O thou Fantasy, bear me away upon thy wings that my
sadness may be lightened!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Chimera</span>. "O thou Unknown, I am enamoured of thine eyes! Like a
hyena in heat I turn about thee, soliciting those fecundations whereof
the desires devour me!</p>
<p>"Ope thy mouth, lift thy feet—mount upon my back!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Sphinx</span>. "My feet, since they have been outstretched, can move no
more. The lichen, like an eruption, has formed upon my jaws. By dint of
long dreaming I have no longer aught to say."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Chimera</span>. "Thou liest, hypocrite Sphinx! Wherefore dost thou always
call me and always disown me!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Sphinx</span>. "It is thou, indomitable caprice, that dost forever pass
and repass, whirling in thy course!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Chimera</span>. "Is the fault mine? What? Let me be!"</p>
<p>(<i>She barks.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Sphinx</span>. "Thou movest away! thou dost escape me!"</p>
<p>(<i>He growls.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Chimera</span>. "Essay!—Thou crushest me!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Sphinx</span>. "Nay!—impossible!"</p>
<p>(<i>And gradually sinking down he disappears in the sand; while the
Chimera, ramping with tongue protruding, departs, describing circles on
her way.</i></p>
<p><i>The breath of her mouth has produced a fog.</i></p>
<p><i>Through this mist Anthony perceives wreathings of clouds, undecided
curves.</i></p>
<p><i>At last he can distinguish something like the appearance of human
bodies.</i></p>
<p><i>And first</i>:—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Astomi</span>—<i>approach, like bubbles of air traversed by sunlight. They
cry</i>):</p>
<p>"Do not breathe too hard! The drops of rain bruise us, false notes
excoriate us, darknesses blind us! Composed wholly of breezes and of
perfumes, we float along, we roll along:—a little more than Dreams,
yet not quite beings...."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Nisnas</span></p>
<p>(<i>have only one eye, one cheek, one hand, one leg, half a body, half a
heart. They say</i>):</p>
<p>"We live quite in our halves of houses, with our halves of wives and
our halves of children!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Blemmyes</span></p>
<p>(<i>who have no head at all</i>):</p>
<p>"Our shoulders are all the broader;—and there is no ox, rhinoceros, or
elephant able to carry what we carry.</p>
<p>"Something dimly resembling features—as it were a vague
face—imprinted upon our breasts: that is all! We think digestions; we
subtleize secretions. God, in our belief, floats peacefully within the
interior chyles.</p>
<p>"We go straight upon our way, through all mires, crossing all morasses,
skirting the edges of all abysses: and we are the most laborious, the
most happy, the most virtuous of all peoples!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Pygmies</span>:</p>
<p>"We, good little men, swarm upon the world like vermin upon the hump of
a dromedary.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"We are burned, drowned, crushed; and we always reappear, more
vivacious and countless than before—terrible by reason of our numbers!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Sciapods</span>:</p>
<p>"Fettered to the earth by our hair, long as lianas, we vegetate beneath
the shelter of our feet, broad as parasols; and the light comes to us
through the thickness of our heels. No annoyances for us, no work! The
head as low as possible—That is the secret of happiness."</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="redon206"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/redon2_06.jpg" width-obs="600" alt="" /> <div class="caption"><p>The Sciapods: The head as low as possible—That is the secret of happiness.</p> </div>
</div>
<p class="p2">(<i>Their lifted thighs,—resembling the trunks of trees,—multiply.</i></p>
<p><i>And a forest appears. Great apes clamber through it on all
fours:—these are men with the heads of dogs.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Cynocephali</span>:</p>
<p>"We leap from branch to branch in search of eggs to suck; and we pluck
the little fledglings alive; then we put their nests upon our heads in
lieu of caps.</p>
<p>"We tear off the teats of cows; and we put out the eyes of lynxes:
we let fall our dung<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</SPAN></span> from the heights of the trees—we parade our
turpitude in the full light of the sun.</p>
<p>"Lacerating the flowers, crushing the fruits, befouling the springs,
violating women, we are the masters of all,—by the strength of our
arms, and the ferocity of our hearts.</p>
<p>"Ho! companions!—gnash with your jaws!"</p>
<p>(<i>Blood and milk pour down their chops. The rain streams over their
hairy backs.</i></p>
<p><i>Anthony inhales the freshness of the green leaves.</i></p>
<p><i>There is a movement among them, a clashing of branches; and all of
a sudden appears a huge black stag, with the head of a bull, having
between his ears a thicket of white horns.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Sadhuzag</span>:</p>
<p>"My seventy-four antlers are hollow like flutes.</p>
<p>"When I turn me toward the wind of the South, there issue from them
sounds that draw all the ravished animals around me. The serpents twine
about my legs; the wasps cluster in my nostrils; and the parrots, the
doves, the ibises, alight upon the branches of my horns.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Listen!"</p>
<p>(<i>He throws back his horns, whence issues a music of sweetness
ineffable.</i></p>
<p><i>Anthony presses both hands upon his heart. It seems to him as though
his soul were being borne away by the melody.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Sadhuzag</span>:</p>
<p>"But when I turn me toward the wind of the North, my antlers, more
thickly bristling than a battalion of lances, give forth a sound of
howlings: the forests are startled with fear; the rivers remount toward
their sources; the husks of fruits burst open; and the bending grasses
stand erect on end, like the hair of a coward.</p>
<p>"Listen!"</p>
<p>(<i>He bends his branching antlers forward: hideous and discordant cries
proceed from them. Anthony feels as though his heart were torn asunder.</i></p>
<p><i>And his horror augments upon beholding</i>)—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Martichoras</span></p>
<p>(<i>A gigantic red lion, with human face, and three rows of teeth</i>):</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"The gleam of my scarlet hair mingles with the reflection of the great
sands. I breathe through my nostrils the terror of solitudes. I spit
forth plague. I devour armies when they venture into the desert.</p>
<p>"My claws are twisted like screws, my teeth shaped like saws; and my
curving tail bristles with darts which I cast to right and left, before
and behind!</p>
<p>"See! see!"</p>
<p>(<i>The Martichoras shoots forth the keen bristles of his tail, which
irradiate in all directions like a volley of arrows. Drops of blood
rain down, spattering upon the foliage.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Catoblepas</span></p>
<p>(<i>A black buffalo with a pig's head, falling to the ground, and
attached to his shoulders by a neck long, thin, and flaccid as an empty
gut.</i></p>
<p><i>He wallows flat upon the ground, and his feet entirely disappear
beneath the enormous mane of coarse hair which covers his face</i>):</p>
<p>"Fat, melancholy, fierce—thus I continually remain, feeling against
my belly the warmth of the mud. So heavy is my skull<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</SPAN></span> that it is
impossible for me to lift it. I roll it slowly all around me,
open-mouthed; and with my tongue I tear up the venemous plants bedewed
with my breath. Once, I even devoured my own feet without knowing it!</p>
<p>"No one, Anthony, has ever beheld mine eyes,—or at least, those who
have beheld them are dead. Were I to lift my eyelids—my pink and
swollen eyelids, thou wouldst forthwith die!"</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span>. "Oh, that one! Ugh! As though I could desire it?—Yet his
stupidity fascinates me! No, no! I will not!"</p>
<p>(<i>He gazes fixedly upon the ground.</i></p>
<p><i>But the weeds take fire; and amidst the contorsions of the flames,
arises</i>)—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Basilisk</span></p>
<p>(<i>A great violet serpent, with trilobate crest, and two fangs, one
above, one below</i>):</p>
<p>"Beware, lest thou fall into my jaws! I drink fire. I am fire!—and I
inhale it from all things: from clouds, from flints, from dead trees,
the fur of animals, the surface of marshes. My temperature maintains
the volcanoes: I lend glitter to jewels: I give colours to metals!"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Griffin</span></p>
<p>(<i>A lion with a vulture's beak, and white wings, red paws and blue
neck</i>):</p>
<p>"I am the master of deep splendours. I know the secrets of the tombs
wherein the Kings of old do slumber.</p>
<p>"A chain, issuing from the wall, maintains their heads upright. Near
them, in basins of porphyry, the women they loved float upon the
surfaces of black liquids. Their treasures are all arrayed in halls, in
lozenge-shaped designs, in little heaps, in pyramids;—and down below,
far below the tombs, and to be reached only after long travelling
through stifling darkness, there are rivers of gold bordered by forests
of diamonds, there are fields of carbuncles and lakes of mercury.</p>
<p>"Addossed against the subterranean gate I remain with claws uplifted;
and my flaming eyes spy out those who seek to approach. The vast and
naked plain that stretches away to the end of the horizon is whitened
with the bones of travellers. But for thee the gates of bronze shall
open; and thou shalt inhale the vapour of the mines, thou shalt descend
into the caverns.... Quick! quick!"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>(<i>He burrows into the earth with his paws, and crows like a cock.</i></p>
<p><i>A thousand voices answer him. The forest trembles.</i></p>
<p><i>And all manner of frightful creatures arise:—The Tragelaphus, half
deer, half ox; the Myrmecoles, lion before-and ant behind, whose
genitals are set reversely; the python Askar, sixty cubits long, that
terrified Moses; the huge weasel Pastinaca, that kills the trees with
her odour; the Presteros, that makes those who touch it imbecile;
the Mirag, a horned hare, that dwells in the islands of the sea. The
leopard Phalmant bursts his belly by roaring; the triple-headed bear
Senad tears her young by licking them with her tongue; the dog Cepus
pours out the blue milk of her teats upon the rocks. Mosquitoes begin
to hum, toads commence to leap; serpents hiss. Lightnings flicker. Hail
falls.</i></p>
<p><i>Then come gusts, bearing with them marvellous anatomies:—Heads of
alligators with hoofs of deer; owls with serpent tails; swine with
tiger-muzzles; goats with the crupper of an ass; frogs hairy as bears;
chameleons huge as hippopotami; calves with two heads, one<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</SPAN></span> bellowing,
the other weeping; winged bellies flitting hither and thither like
gnats.</i></p>
<p><i>They rain from the sky, they rise from the earth, they pour from the
rocks; everywhere eyes flame, mouths roar, breasts bulge, claws are
extended, teeth gnash, flesh clacks against flesh. Some crouch; some
devour each other at a mouthful.</i></p>
<p><i>Suffocating under their own numbers, multiplying by their own contact,
they climb over one another; and move about Anthony with a surging
motion as though the ground were the deck of a ship. He feels the trail
of snails upon the calves of his legs, the chilliness of vipers upon
his hands:—and spiders spinning about him enclose him within their
network.</i></p>
<p><i>But the monstrous circle breaks, parts; the sky suddenly becomes blue;
and</i>)—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Unicorn</span> (<i>appears</i>):</p>
<p>"Gallop! Gallop!</p>
<p>"I have hoofs of ivory, teeth of steel; my head is the colour of
purple, my body the colour of snow; and the horn of my forehead is
bestreaked with the tints of the rainbow.</p>
<p>"I travel from Chaldea to the Tartar desert,—upon<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</SPAN></span> the shores of the
Ganges and in Mesopotamia. I overtake the ostriches. I run so swiftly
that I draw the wind after me. I rub my back against the palm-trees. I
roll among the bamboos. I leap rivers with a single bound. Doves fly
above me. Only a virgin can bridle me.</p>
<p>"Gallop! Gallop!"</p>
<p>(<i>Anthony watches him depart.</i></p>
<p><i>And as he gazes he beholds all the birds that nourish themselves
with wind: the Gouith, the Ahuti, the Alphalim, the Iukneth, of the
mountains of Kaf, the homai of the Arabs—which are the souls of
murdered men. He hears the parrots that utter human speech; and the
great Pelasgian palmipeds that sob like children or chuckle like old
women.</i></p>
<p><i>A saline air strikes his nostrils. Now a vast beach stretches before
him.</i></p>
<p><i>In the distance jets of water arise, spouted by whales; and from the
very end of the horizon come</i>)—</p>
<p class="smcap" style="text-align: center;">The Beasts of the Sea</p>
<p>(<i>round as wineskins, flat as blades, denticulated like saws, dragging
themselves over the sand as they approach</i>):</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="redon22"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/redon_22.jpg" width-obs="600" alt="" /> <div class="caption"><p>The beasts of the sea round as wineskins</p> </div>
</div>
<p class="p2">"Thou wilt accompany us to our immensities, whither as yet no one has
descended.</p>
<p>"Divers peoples inhabit the countries of the Ocean. Some dwell in the
sojourn of tempests; others swim freely amid the transparency of chill
waves;—or, like oxen, graze upon the coral plains, or suck in through
their trunks the reflux of the tides,—or bear upon their shoulders the
vast weight of the sources of the sea."</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="redon23"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/redon_23.jpg" width-obs="600" alt="" /> <div class="caption"><p>Divers peoples inhabit the countries of the Ocean </p> </div>
</div>
<p class="p2">(<i>Phosphorences gleam in the moustaches of the seals, shift in the
scales of fish. Echini whirl like wheels; ammonites uncoil like cables;
oysters make their shell hinges squeak; polypi unfold their tentacles;
medusæ quiver like balls of crystal suspended; sponges float hither and
thither, anemones ejaculate water; wrack and sea-mosses have grown all
about.</i></p>
<p><i>And all sorts of plants extend themselves into branches, twist
themselves into screws, lengthen into points, round themselves out like
fans. Gourds take the appearance of breasts; lianas interlace like
serpents.</i></p>
<p><i>The Dedaims of Babylon, which are trees, bear human heads for fruit;
Mandragoras<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</SPAN></span> sing;—the root Baaras runs through the grass.</i></p>
<p><i>And now the vegetables are no longer distinguishable from the animals.
Polyparies that seem like trees, have arms upon their branches. Anthony
thinks he sees a caterpillar between two leaves: it is a butterfly that
takes flight. He is about to step on a pebble: a grey locust leaps
away. One shrub is bedecked with insects that look like petals of
roses; fragments of ephemerides form a snowy layer upon the soil.</i></p>
<p><i>And then the plants become confounded with the stones.</i></p>
<p><i>Flints assume the likeness of brains; stalactites of breasts; the
flower of iron resembles a figured tapestry.</i><SPAN name="FNanchor_2_28" id="FNanchor_2_28"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_2_28" class="fnanchor">[2]</SPAN></p>
<p><i>He sees efflorescences in fragments of ice, imprints of shrubs and
shells—yet so that one cannot detect whether they be imprints only, or
the things themselves. Diamonds gleam like eyes; metals palpitate.</i></p>
<p><i>And all fear has departed from him! He throws himself down upon the
ground, and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</SPAN></span> leaning upon his elbows, watches breathlessly.</i></p>
<p><i>Insects that have no stomachs persistently eat; withered ferns bloom
again and reflower; absent members grow again.</i></p>
<p><i>At last he perceives tiny globular masses, no larger than pinheads,
with cilia all round them. They are agitated with a vibratile motion</i>):</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Anthony</span> (<i>deliriously</i>):</p>
<p>"O joy! O bliss! I have beheld the birth of life! I have seen the
beginning of motion! My pulses throb even to the point of bursting!
I long to fly, to swim, to bark, to bellow, to howl! Would that I
had wings, a carapace, a shell,—that I could breathe out smoke,
wield a trunk,—make my body writhe,—divide myself everywhere,—be
in everything,—emanate with odours,—develop myself like the
plants,—flow like water,—vibrate like sound—shine like light,
squatting upon all forms—penetrate each atom—descend to the very
bottom of matter,—be matter itself!"</p>
<p>(<i>Day at last appears;—and, like tabernacle curtains uplifted, clouds
of gold uprolling in broad volutes unveil the sky.</i></p>
<p><i>Even in the midst thereof, and in the very<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</SPAN></span> disk of the sun, beams the
face of Jesus Christ.</i></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="redon24"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/redon_24.jpg" width-obs="600" alt="" /> <div class="caption"><p>Day at last appears ... in the midst thereof and in the very disk of the sun, beams the face of Jesus Christ. </p>
</div>
</div>
<p class="p2"><i>Anthony makes the sign of the cross, and resumes his devotions.</i>)</p>
<h4>FINIS</h4>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_1_27" id="Footnote_1_27"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_1_27"><span class="label">[1]</span></SPAN> Winkelmann claims to have been the first to discover that
the Egyptian sphinxes were bisexual—females before—males otherwise.
(See Book II, chap. I, § 25.) Flaubert speaks of the Sphinx in the
masculine like Philemon. (See also Signor Carlo Fea's note upon the
paragraph in Winkelmann, old French edition. An II, R. F.)—Trans.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_2_28" id="Footnote_2_28"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_2_28"><span class="label">[2]</span></SPAN> Fleurs de fer, "flowers of iron." In mineralogy <i>flos
ferri</i>, a form of Aragonite.—Trans.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h5><SPAN name="NOTE" id="NOTE">[NOTE</SPAN></h5>
<p>Those who compare this translation with the original will observe the
omission of some few paragraphs on pages <SPAN href="#Page_77">77</SPAN>, <SPAN href="#Page_96">96</SPAN> and <SPAN href="#Page_211">211</SPAN>. They are
speeches put in the mouths of certain Heresiarchs, or complaints of
certain of the minor Roman household gods. The translator relegated
these to an addenda, which the publishers have omitted as being
unnecessary. Those who are familiar with the original will be able to
supply them, and will realize that while they might be offensive to
some persons, they are in no respect an integral or important part of
the great drama.]</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p>(added by transcribers)</p>
<h5><SPAN name="ADDENDA" id="ADDENDA">ADDENDA</SPAN></h5>
<p>A. Observation of Manes, pages 82-3, original text; page <SPAN href="#Page_89">89</SPAN> of
translation.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Manes</span></p>
<p><i>Ou plutôt, faites si bien qu'elle ne soit pas fécondes. Mieux vaut
pour l'ame tomber sur la terre que de languir dans des entraves
charnelles.</i></p>
<p>Probably a calumny against Manes; for the Eastern philosophy,
especially that of Zoroaster, which is said to have inspired the tenets
of Manichæism, advocated no such abominations.</p>
<p>B. Page 105 of original; <SPAN href="#Page_108">page 108</SPAN> translation. The realistic
phraseology of the original passage is rather brutal. The French text
reads: "<i>Il souffrait de la maladie Bellerephontienne; et sa mère, la
parfumeuse, s'est livrée à Pantherus, un soldat Romain, sur des gerbes
de mais, un soir de moisson.</i>" C. Descriptive text, page 237 original,
partly suppressed on <SPAN href="#Page_223">page 223</SPAN> translation: "<i>Et il lui montre dans un
bosquet d'aliziers Une Femme toute nue, à quatre pattes comme une bête,
et saillie par un homme noir, tenant dans chaque main un flambeau.</i>"</p>
<p>D. Curious text of Crepitus, on page <SPAN href="#Page_228">228</SPAN>, pages 241-3 of original:</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Crepitus</span></p>
<p>(——se fait entendre):</p>
<p><i>Moi aussi l'on m'honora jadis. On me faisait des libations. Je fus un
Dieu!</i></p>
<p><i>L'Athénien me saluait comme un presage de fortune, tandis que le
Romain dévot me maudissait les poings levés et que le pontife d'Egypte,
s'abstinant des fèves, tremblait à ma voix et pâlissait à mon odeur.</i></p>
<p><i>Quand le vinaigre militaire coulait sur les barbes non rasées, qu'on
se régalait de glands, de pois, et d'oignons crus, et que le bouc en
morceau cuissait dans le beurre rance des pasteurs, sans souci du
voisin, personne alors ne se gênait. Les nourritures solides faisaient
digestions retentissantes. Au soleil de la campagne les hommes se
soulageaient avec lenteur.</i></p>
<p><i>Ainsi, je passais sans scandale, comme les autres besoins de la vie,
comme Mena, tourment des vierges, et la douce Rumina qui protège le
sein de la nourrice, gonflé, des veines bleuâtres. J'étais joyeux. Je
faisais rire. Et se dilatant d'aise à cause de moi, le convive exhalait
toute sa gaieté par les ouvertures de son corps.</i></p>
<p><i>J'ai eu mes jours d'orgeuil. Le bon Aristophane me promena sur la
scène, et l'empereur Claudius Drusus<SPAN name="FNanchor_1_29" id="FNanchor_1_29"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_1_29" class="fnanchor">[1]</SPAN> me fit asseoir à sa table. Dans
les laticlaves des patriciens j'ai circulé majestueusement! Les vases
d'or, comme des tympanons, resonnaient sous moi; et, quand plein de
murènes, de truffles, et de pâtés, l'intestin du maître se dégageait
avec fracas, l'univers attentif apprenait que César avait diné!</i></p>
<p><i>Mais à présent, je suis confiné dans la populace</i><SPAN name="FNanchor_2_30" id="FNanchor_2_30"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_2_30" class="fnanchor">[2]</SPAN> <i>et l'on se
récrie, même à mon nom!</i></p>
<p><i>Et Crepitus s'éloigne, en poussant un gémissement....</i></p>
<p>E. For descriptions of the Martichoras and other monsters, appearing
page 287 in the original and <SPAN href="#Page_253">253</SPAN> in the translation, see also Rabelais'
Pantagruel, Book V, Chap. XXX.</p>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_1_29" id="Footnote_1_29"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_1_29"><span class="label">[1]</span></SPAN> Needless to refer to the comedies of Aristophanes,
with which English readers have been familiarized through the Bohn
translations. The reference to Claudius ius Drusus seems based upon
the following lines in Suetonius: "<i>Dicitur etiam meditatus edictum,
quo veniam daret flatum crepitumque ventris in convivio emittendi:
cum periclitatum quemdam prae pudore ex continentia reperisset.</i>"
(<i>Suetonius-Tiberius Claudius Drusus</i>: 32.)</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_2_30" id="Footnote_2_30"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_2_30"><span class="label">[2]</span></SPAN> The so-called divinities, <i>Deus Crepitus, Dea Pertunda,
Deus Stercutius, Dea Rumina</i> (or <i>Rumilia</i>), <i>Dea Mena</i>, concerning
whose curious attributes the reader may consult English or French
classical encyclopedists, were doubtless regarded by the intelligent
classes of antiquity much as certain religious superstitions are
regarded by educated moderns. It is true that they furnished grotesque
themes to artists; but many existing superstitions regarding elves
and goblins have inspired modern sculptors, painters and designers.
Certainly, seriously worshipped as deities, Priapus might seem equally
contemptible as a divinity; but his worship, degenerate as it became
in later years, was primitively symbolical. The obscene image merely
typified the procreative Spirit of Nature. The eccentric gods and
goddesses above referred to had no such excuse for being. As previously
observed, however, Flaubert artistically represents these divinities
not as they were really considered in the antique world, but rather as
they would have appeared to the eyes of zealous Christians in the third
century—infamous and loathsome.—Translator.</p>
</div>
<hr class="full" />
<p><SPAN name="CONTENTS"></SPAN><span style="font-weight: bold;">CONTENTS</span><br/><br/>
<SPAN href="#INTRODUCTION">INTRODUCTION</SPAN><br/>
<SPAN href="#ARGUMENT">ARGUMENT</SPAN><br/>
<SPAN href="#THE_TEMPTATION_OF_ST_ANTHONY">THE TEMPTATION OF ST. ANTHONY</SPAN><br/>
<SPAN href="#I">I</SPAN><br/>
<SPAN href="#II">II</SPAN><br/>
<SPAN href="#III">III</SPAN><br/>
<SPAN href="#IV">IV</SPAN><br/>
<SPAN href="#V">V</SPAN><br/>
<SPAN href="#VI">VI</SPAN><br/>
<SPAN href="#VII">VII</SPAN><br/>
<SPAN href="#NOTE">NOTE</SPAN><br/>
<SPAN href="#ADDENDA">ADDENDA</SPAN><br/></p>
<hr class="chap" />
<h5>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h5>
<p style="text-align: center;">(by Odilon Redon, which were added especially for this PG e-book.)</p>
<blockquote>
<p> ... through the long hair half hiding her face, I thought
that I could recognize Ammonaria ... <span class="illnum"> <SPAN href="#redon201">6</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Saint Anthony: Help me, O my God! <span class="illnum"> <SPAN href="#redon02">16</SPAN></span></p>
<p>And there are columns of basalt everywhere,... The light
falls from the vaults above <span class="illnum"> <SPAN href="#redon03">38</SPAN></span></p>
<p>there is a sweetness in my kisses as of a fruit dissolving
within thy heart ... <span class="illnum"> <SPAN href="#redon04">58</SPAN></span></p>
<p>... a long blood-colored chrysalis <span class="illnum"><SPAN href="#redon202">100</SPAN></span></p>
<p>... the flowers fall and the head of a python appears <span class="illnum">
<SPAN href="#redon05">105</SPAN></span></p>
<p>... and in the darkness beside him people are praying...
<span class="illnum"><SPAN href="#redon06">107</SPAN></span></p>
<p>... and he beholds an arid plain, mamillated with knolls
<span class="illnum"><SPAN href="#redon07">113</SPAN></span></p>
<p>She drags a black sponge from her bosom, covers it with
kisses ... <span class="illnum"><SPAN href="#redon08">115</SPAN></span></p>
<p>I have buried myself in solitude, like the rhinoceros. I
dwelt in the tree behind me <span class="illnum"><SPAN href="#redon09">119</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Helena - Ennoia <span class="illnum"><SPAN href="#redon10">125</SPAN></span></p>
<p>... instantly arise three goddesses <span class="illnum"><SPAN href="#redon11">157</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Intelligence became mine! I became the Buddha. <span class="illnum"><SPAN href="#redon12">165</SPAN></span></p>
<p>... and eyes without heads were floating like mollusks <span class="illnum"><SPAN href="#redon13">167</SPAN></span></p>
<p>I, the first consciousness of Chaos, arose from the abyss
that I might harden matter, and give a law unto forms <span class="illnum">
<SPAN href="#redon14">168</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Here is the Good Goddess, the Idæan of the mountains <span class="illnum"><SPAN href="#redon15">178</SPAN></span></p>
<p>I am still the Great Isis!—none has yet lifted my
veil! My fruit is the Sun! <span class="illnum"><SPAN href="#redon16">188</SPAN></span></p>
<p>... he falls head foremost into the abyss <span class="illnum"><SPAN href="#redon17">206</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Anthony: What is the purpose of all that? The Devil: There
is no purpose. <span class="illnum"><SPAN href="#redon18">224</SPAN></span></p>
<p>The Old Woman: Of what art thou afraid?—a wide, black
hole! Perhaps it is a void! <span class="illnum"><SPAN href="#redon19">235</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Death: Mine irony depasseth all others! <span class="illnum"><SPAN href="#redon203">240</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Death: It is I that make thee awful! Let us intertwine! <span class="illnum">
<SPAN href="#redon20">241</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Anthony: Somewhere there must be primordial figures, whose
bodily forms are only symbols <span class="illnum"><SPAN href="#redon204">242</SPAN></span></p>
<p>I myself have sometime beheld in the sky, as it were, forms
of spirits <span class="illnum"><SPAN href="#redon21">242</SPAN></span></p>
<p>The Sphinx: ... and yet my gaze, which naught can deviate,
remains fixed, gazing through all intervening things, upon
a horizon that none may reach. The Chimera: I am light and
joyous! <span class="illnum"><SPAN href="#redon205">245</SPAN></span></p>
<p>The Sciapods: The head as low as possible—That is the
secret of happiness. <span class="illnum"><SPAN href="#redon206">249</SPAN></span></p>
<p>The beasts of the sea round as wineskins <span class="illnum"><SPAN href="#redon22">258</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Divers peoples inhabit the countries of the Ocean <span class="illnum"><SPAN href="#redon23">258</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Day at last appears ... in the midst thereof and in the very
disk of the sun, beams the face of Jesus Christ. <span class="illnum"><SPAN href="#redon24">260</SPAN></span></p>
</blockquote>
<hr class="tb" />
<p> </p>
<p class="transnote"><b>Transcribers' Note:</b><br/>
<br/>
This translation of the "Tentation" by Lafcadio Hearn, still regarded
by many as the best up until now in English, still misses some small
fragments (of a couple of words) not deemed fit for the Anglo-Saxon
temperament of that time. There is a contemporary version (2002) of
this translation available, with introduction by Michel Foucault and
the inclusion of some missing expressions. The original French by
Gustave Flaubert is also available at Project Gutenberg—
<SPAN href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10982">http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10982</SPAN></p>
<p> </p>
<hr class="pg" />
<SPAN name="endofbook"></SPAN>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />