XXVAPHRODITE RISES FROM THE SEA
IN the meantime the quieting of the sea had produced a most beneficial effect upon Adele. Thanks to the kind ministrations of her mother and Miss Winchester, the thunder-gust headache had passed away as suddenly as it came. The steward entered again to open the port-holes in her state-room; a delicious breeze, soft and balmy, entered, most refreshing.
“How quickly the storm has passed,” said Adele to her mother.
“Yes, my child, and you had better leave this stuffy state-room as quickly as possible. I feel sure you will recover as soon as you breathe the invigorating air.”
“I had a whiff just now.”
“These coast storms are very fussy while they last,” said Mamma, “but I suppose ’twill be like all those along the Riviera; we often had superb nights following terrible gusts. You had better get up, Adele.”
“Do you think it safe to venture?”
“Not the slightest risk, not the slightest. I’ll ask your father to have the chair ready; you can take his arm at first.”
The soft, balmy air was again wafted in through the port, and passed with healing touch over Adele’s cheek.
“How delicious that is,” and she repeated the line:
“Soft as downy zephyrs are.”
Why Adele used the word zephyrs instead of pillows, Zeus only knows;—it must have been Zeus, not Aphrodite, for thelatter seldom troubled herself about either zephyrs or garments; and yet the association of ideas aroused in the mind of her mother by Adele’s talking about zephyrs was most potent in results.
“That reminds me, Adele, I have a zephyr-shawl that is just the very thing. I’ll go and get it,” and off she hurried.
In the passage outside she met Paul, also in haste, and they stumbled over one another.
“I’m after a shawl for Adele; she ought to be on deck.”
“Ah! just what I think,” said Paul, enchanted to find matters already so favorable.
“Her father will bring her up.”
“I shall be delighted; let me.”
“No, thanks very much; but, no, it’s not at all necessary,” probably thinking of her daughter’s appearance. “But you may arrange her chair in some protected place.”
“Better than ever,” thought Paul. “I’ll find it; a first-class protection, to suit us all round.”
When Mrs. Cultus put the shawl around her daughter’s shoulders and mentioned incidentally that Paul was arranging things for her on deck, Adele had a violent revulsion of feeling. Still thinking of those trashy verses Paul had sent her, she felt little disposition to meet him; then noticed again how stuffy was the air of the state-room; then her mother insisted.
“But those verses, mother!”
“Never mind poetry,” said Mrs. Cultus, laughing. “Think of what you’ve done in that line yourself. You’re just like me. I did it,” and her mother shook all over with amusement.
“What are you laughing at?”—Adele serious.
“Why, my dear, you’ve been singing verses about ‘doves’ and ‘loves,’ and ‘toujours’ and ‘amours’ ever since you began singing lessons. If I believed half of what you’ve sung in public, I would not know what to think. Never mind poetry, verses don’t count. Now go on deck.”
“It was half Frank’s fault, anyhow,” mused Adele, “to read me such stuff when I felt so wretched. Never mind, I’ll have a good crow to pick with Paul when I get him alone.”
Aphrodite also laughed—one of her most bewitching ripples of laughter—when she overheard Adele’s last conclusion, and promptly sent for her accomplished son, Eros.
Eros was a youngster, at least in appearance, but very precocious. Like his father, the ancient Hermes (Mercury), he was very quick in his movements, and affected considerable style in his undress, for a divinity. He even appeared wearing a collar, with the very latest style of neck-tie, a cordon of blue ribbon over his shoulder instead of a belt around his waist; which fact often troubled artists and “fotographers” when they took his “picture.” Being thus ultra, he carried at times a torch, then again bow and arrows, in lieu of a walking stick; and sometimes put the name “Cupid” on his visiting cards, because he said it sounded “cute.” The modern divinities elsewhere, as well as at Olympus, were much divided in their opinions about this Eros-Cupid, “modern-antique.” Some said he was a good boy; others, the most mischievous little urchin that was to be found sporting around the Mount of the Gods; some contended that the mischief he wrought showed him to be a charming little elf with his mother’s dimples and ripples of laughter. Later, some foreigners dubbed him Puck, but he was never so designated at Olympus, never, not even by his mother; only by those who never ate apples, the apples of discord, nor sported with him in the Gardens of Hesperides.
Cupid, himself, however, when among the Romans generally followed their example and called her Venus, which he never did in Greece. The Greeks would have been shocked; they were artistic and saw nothing improper, even under the electric lightning-lights of Olympus; the Romans merely commonplace, practical, useful. It was rumored, however, that the pair of them, Aphrodite and Eros, did work together,as Venus and Cupid even in Greece, on the sly as it were, when Juno was off with her swans, and Diana gone out fishing; beg pardon, it was hunting in those days, fishing came in later.
On this occasion Eros appeared in due time, obedient to his mother’s call. But, marvellous to relate, in appearance quite different from what Aphrodite had expected. He became visible in his most ancient Greek garb, his aspect the Beauty of Youth. He bore a flaming torch which Zeus had given him, the torch with which he had been armed from the beginning of human experience, the torch which was lighted in the Garden of Eden. The most youth-full as well as ancient of all the divinities approached. From remote ages he had been known to exist in some form, not only as an epiphany or an apparition of youthful life and beauty, but more than this, far more: the personification of the principle of union among the disunited elements of the world, drawn together by that “enthusiastic congeniality of spirit” which is the basis of all true love; potent among human kind as the power which operates for that sincere friendship which continues and develops, ever ascending through the domain of mutual respect and regard, into the glorious realm of devotion, self-sacrifice. This, the purity of union among human kind, the purity of marriage, the birth of souls, the realm of Immortal Youth.
Such was the unexpected aspect of Eros when he first appeared; and such the significance of his presence.
Being a divinity, in the old Greek sense of the term, that is to say, a personification of the natural forces and instincts and passions, he could not appear reasonably in other garb or aspect at this time, when active in relation to the affairs of such a one as Adele Cultus, an Idyl, an ideal girl.
Upon Adele, in modern times, the same forces of nature were still operative as they had ever been since the beginning. Adele, too, possessed the divine spark or flame, within her, as given by her Creator Father, and she was both lovely and lovable.Paul adored her for her beauty of character, and her youthful form ashesaw it; and her devotion to the truth as theybothsaw it;the true union, earthly, heavenly, eternal.
Alas, that such a divinity or personification, this original, ancient Eros, should ever have been dethroned by others less spiritual than Adele; dethroned, aye, dragged down from the lofty pedestal, the rock of ages; and his torch of flame become but an urn of ashes to be scattered by every vagrant wind; he, himself, in time, represented as a thoughtless wayward child, often as a wanton sporting with bows and arrows as if at play; and forcing himself where no true affection exists, not even regard. His unhappy victims deluded, and wandering in a region of shadows where the light ever grows more dim; alas! forever failing to enter the realm of Immortal Youth, the realm illumined by the unfailing radiance of true love.
Yet such are the vicissitudes involving changes and irregularities in mortal experience, especially in connection with the materialistic tendencies of modern times, that the original aspect of Eros has suffered, as with many other similar conceptions. His aspect only, not the natural forces which he personified; hence, in relation to Adele, the truth in Eros remained untouched, whereas, his interview with Aphrodite in this case certainly did illustrate the deterioration which had overtaken the region of Olympus since so many of the old divinities have fallen from their pedestals.
The Eros of the ancient Greeks could no longer retain his lofty attitude and position amid modern requirements, and his behavior in this instance certainly did demonstrate the deterioration. He became, in aspect only, by various stages, the versatile modern imp, Cupid, the Cupid now so often represented as blindfolded, or even blind; and with or without wings when used for decorative purposes. In fact, he might easily be mistaken for an all-day-vaudeville performer, or a cherub brought up upon the latest cereal, so little is left of the original mythological divinity.
As before noted, Eros responded promptly to his mother’s call, his appearance as it had been in the beginning.
Aphrodite was struck with amazement, it had been so long since she had seen him in that guise. It recalled to her the early Grecian period, soon after she herself had risen, born by the forces of nature from the foam of the sea at Cyprus; of the time when Eros (Amor) and the Graces were ever in her train, and she herself the deity of reproduction and love; of the time when the myrtle, the rose, and the apple were especially sacred to her, and the dove, the swan and certain other animals were symbolic of her activities. And she looked upon him with affection.
“Eros! Oh, Eros! my lovely boy! son of my youth!” and her voice failed. Overwhelmed by surging memories, some time elapsed before she could again speak.
“How long, Eros! how long since thou camest to me as now?”
Eros knelt before her as if to receive her blessing.
Verily, no Phidias, or Praxiteles, among the ancients, could have worshiped by means of the sacred art of their day, and found a better subject to crystallize in form for the good of future generations, than this, an Olympian Madonna, a son at his mother’s knee. Maternal love and the responsive trust and veneration of Youth.
The nearer approach of Eros naturally brought his torch in closer proximity. Its brilliancy became dazzling, in fact blinding to eyes long since unused to its power.
Aphrodite, conscious only of the physical inconvenience, placed her hand before her face as if to shade the eyes. This was enough for Eros, he placed his torch upon a tripod at greater distance, where it remained, so near and yet so far; so subtle are the adverse influences when the physical becomes dominant over the spiritual.
And instantly the natural consequence:
Eros separated from his torch was no longer the same. Hehad entered the shadows; his aspect at once changed. His form, still exquisite to behold, was like sculptured marble, faultless in outline, yet without the flesh tint, the warmth of color; complete except the illuminating flame which Zeus had given him.
Aphrodite still gazed with admiration, but, alas! strange to say, his aspect having become more familiar to present conditions and himself speechless, she also said nothing; and Eros continued to manifest the beauty of form alone.
And again the natural consequence:
Aphrodite had called him for a purpose, and must talk with him; must cause the exquisite form to manifest life, the statue must respond. And she called him anew:
“Eros! Oh, Eros! why not speak? Come to me from amid those shadows! Eros! answer!”
Alas, no response.
And again she called him.
He was but a stone.
And again, for the third time.
No response possible.
Yet while she waited, a profound and thrilling change did take place, both in form and expression. Not that Eros spake, but his form manifested a movement or evolution towards another phase of his nature. So impressive had he been as a statue of divine suggestion, that many a Greek would have placed him within the precincts of a sacred temple as most appropriate locality for his abode. Once there, his heavenly youth would serve to uplift the hearts of all who beheld him. Once so conceived, any religion might have felt enriched from an artistic point of view, to possess him among the treasures of the sacred enclosure, as a symbol of the countless babes within the heavenly realm; for “of such is the Kingdom of Heaven.”
And so Eros now appeared, as a mediæval cherub, a concomitantto a sacred picture. His religious aspect still apparent, but now as accessory; and often represented only as “head and wings,” gazing upwards.
And still he was silent; significant, but silent.
To Aphrodite he seemed as one fading away from her forever, to be lost amid enveloping clouds; possibly to be appropriated by other worshipers than those who frequented Olympus. And such would have been the case if the torch of Zeus, ever radiant, so near and yet so far, had not still cast some light upon the scene. To Aphrodite, Eros was still hers, of her, and from her, by whatever name he might be addressed; and who more potent than she to call him by any name she chose, any endearing term that sprang from her heart?
“Eros, my own! Eros, my darling! My cherub! surely you wish not to offend me, and rest gazing at others. Cupid! speak!”
She had called him by his later and modern name; and again the natural consequence, the final change. Of course he spoke. Being what he was as Cupid in modern conception, he could not do otherwise, he could not avoid conversation. Also, his youthful wings commenced to flutter; and his beauty, never lost since the beginning, made him, from the worldly point of view, adorable.
But, alas! not as Eros, simply the modern fascinating Cupid. Sad, also! no longer the Aphrodite of early times, but the Roman Venus still in vogue; Venus who at once asserted herself by giving orders to her attendant Cherub. The Cherub carried his bow and arrows, and the torch of Zeus grew very dim as Venus spake:
“Cupid! you certainly are clever! but you gave me such a shock! I thought you never would wake up, or speak to me again!”
The Cherub fluttered about her person not unlike a butterfly to fascinate by graceful movement; the poetry of motion,an admirable motif for decoration; activity, new sensations; no more, no less.
“Cupid! if ever that occurs again, you will be caught and imprisoned, imprisoned within a picture gallery, and there you will remain. Zeus help you! Naughty boy!”
The beautiful winged youth, the spritely Cupid, at once answered:
“I’ll girdle the earth in forty minutes. Catch me, who catch can.”
Venus smiled. Some would have thought this smile “bewitching,” others could have called her expression “a cynical smile.” But it soon faded away, and in no degree prevented her proceeding at once to the object of their interview.
“Cupid! there is going to be an engagement.”
“Ah! then the fight comes later on,” remarked the precocious Sprite.
“Are you ready?”
“Always ready,” and as if to suit the action to the word, he fluttered in graceful curves, and finally,en passant, kissed her upon the cheek.
“Good. I see you are! You may amuse yourself with bow and arrows when the time comes.”
“May I respectfully inquire when this momentous engagement is to transpire?”
“When you see me——”
“Do what, my Lady Venus?”
“Rise from the sea, and give the usual signal.”
The confab ended for the present. Lady Venus and Cupid understood each other perfectly.
A moonlit night and zephyrs wafted in; an easy chair, and no one looking on. Two in shadow, gazing upon legendary Greece; talking mythology such as they alone could understand; feeling fluctuations of quite another kind.
A convalescent lassie, and a sympathizing lad, old friendsfor at least a year, it seemed as if from childhood. A timely aid, and a grateful maid; compliments in words, and nature’s complementary. A man’s stout heart, and a woman’s tender sympathy, sincerity and truth.
The conditions were favorable.
What else?
A secret, a secret to all but Cupid who stood behind a celestial-rose bush on the heights nearby, his bow and arrows ready. An event not to be seen by the binoculars of newsy gossips, nor even perceived by the mental eyes of inquisitives. All is left to the spiritual discernment of those who have loved.
What actually occurred during that heavenly evening when they drifted upon the bosom of the Adriatic, when the stars shone brightly or when cloud-draperies hid some endearing charm, can only fully be known to two (and the divinities), these two nature’s lovely, lovable and loved. But sure it is, before the evening closed, Aphrodite again arose from the sea, a Vision of Loveliness. Gliding by in her graceful shell, floating amid foam on the crest of a wave, illumined by a divine radiance, she threw a kiss of affection, the signal. And from behind the celestial-rose bush sped Love’s Arrow, borne upon the wings of the unseen. As this sweet messenger enters the hearts of those ready to respond, so it was welcomed by Adele and Paul, reclining beneath the brow of Olympus.