No More Learning

to what end? you can find the Caucasus another time;
and there are chains to be had, if you catch me cheating.

_Zeus_. Tell me first the nature of your 'invaluable' offer.

_Prom_. If I tell you your present errand right, will that convince
you that I can prophesy too?

_Zeus_. Of course it will.

_Prom_. You are bound on a little visit to Thetis.

_Zeus_. Right so far. And the sequel? I trust you now.

_Prom_. Have no dealings with her, Zeus. As sure as Nereus's daughter
conceives by you, your child shall mete you the measure you meted to--

_Zeus_. I shall lose my kingdom, you would say?

_Prom_. Avert it, Fate! I say only, that union portends this issue.

_Zeus_. Thetis, farewell! and for this Hephaestus shall set you free.

H.




II

_Eros. Zeus_


_Eros_. You might let me off, Zeus! I suppose it _was_ rather too bad
of me; but there! --I am but a child; a wayward child.

_Zeus_. A child, and born before Iapetus was ever thought of? You bad
old man! Just because you have no beard, and no white hairs, are you
going to pass yourself off for a child?

_Eros_. Well, and what such mighty harm has the old man ever done you,
that you should talk of chains?

_Zeus_. Ask your own guilty conscience, what harm. The pranks you have
played me! Satyr, bull, swan, eagle, shower of gold,--I have been
everything in my time; and I have you to thank for it. You never by
any chance make the women in love with _me_; no one is ever smitten
with _my_ charms, that I have noticed. No, there must be magic in it
always; I must be kept well out of sight. They like the bull or the
swan well enough: but once let them set eyes on _me_, and they are
frightened out of their lives.

_Eros_. Well, of course. They are but mortals; the sight of Zeus is
too much for them.

_Zeus_. Then why are Branchus and Hyacinth so fond of Apollo?

_Eros_. Daphne ran away from him, anyhow; in spite of his beautiful
hair and his smooth chin. Now, shall I tell you the way to win hearts?
Keep that aegis of yours quiet, and leave the thunderbolt at home;
make yourself as smart as you can; curl your hair and tie it up with a
bit of ribbon, get a purple cloak, and gold-bespangled shoes, and
march forth to the music of flute and drum;--and see if you don't get
a finer following than Dionysus, for all his Maenads.

_Zeus_. Pooh! I'll win no hearts on such terms.

_Eros_. Oh, in that case, don't fall in love. Nothing could be
simpler.

_Zeus_. I dare say; but I like being in love, only I don't like all
this fuss. Now mind; if I let you off, it is on this understanding.

F.




III

_Zeus. Hermes_


_Zeus_. Hermes, you know Inachus's beautiful daughter?

_Her_. I do. Io, you mean?

_Zeus_. Yes; she is not a girl now, but a heifer.

_Her_. Magic at work! how did that come about?

_Zeus_. Hera had a jealous fit, and transformed her. But that is not
all; she has thought of a new punishment for the poor thing. She has
put a cowherd in charge, who is all over eyes; this Argus, as he is
called, pastures the heifer, and never goes to sleep.

_Her_. Well, what am I to do?

_Zeus_. Fly down to Nemea, where the pasture is, kill Argus, take Io
across the sea to Egypt, and convert her into Isis. She shall be
henceforth an Egyptian Goddess, flood the Nile, regulate the winds,
and rescue mariners.

H.




VI

_Hera_. Zeus_


_Hera_. Zeus! What is your opinion of this man Ixion?

_Zeus_. Why, my dear, I think he is a very good sort of man; and the
best of company. Indeed, if he were unworthy of our company, he would
not be here.

_Hera_. He _is_ unworthy! He is a villain! Discard him!

_Zeus_. Eh? What has he been after? I must know about this.

_Hera_. Certainly you must; though I scarce know how to tell you. The
wretch!

_Zeus_. Oh, oh; if he is a 'wretch,' you must certainly tell me all
about it. I know what 'wretch' means, on your discreet tongue. What,
he has been making love?

_Hera_. And to me! to me of all people! It has been going on for a
long time. At first, when he would keep looking at me, I had no idea--.
And then he would sigh and groan; and when I handed my cup to
Ganymede after drinking, he would insist on having it, and would stop
drinking to kiss it, and lift it up to his eyes; and then he would
look at me again. And then of course I knew. For a long time I didn't
like to say anything to you; I thought his mad fit would pass. But
when he actually dared to _speak_ to me, I left him weeping and
groveling about, and stopped my ears, so that I might not hear his
impertinences, and came to tell you. It is for you to consider what
steps you will take.

_Zeus_. Whew! I have a rival, I find; and with my own lawful wife.
Here is a rascal who has tippled nectar to some purpose. Well, we have
no one but ourselves to blame for it: we make too much of these
mortals, admitting them to our table like this. When they drink of our
nectar, and behold the beauties of Heaven (so different from those of
Earth! ), 'tis no wonder if they fall in love, and form ambitious
schemes! Yes, Love is all-powerful; and not with mortals only: we Gods
have sometimes fallen beneath his sway.

_Hera_. He has made himself master of _you_; no doubt of that. He does
what he likes with you;--leads you by the nose. You follow him whither
he chooses, and assume every shape at his command; you are his
chattel, his toy. I know how it will be: you are going to let Ixion
off, because you have had relations with his wife; she is the mother
of Pirithous.

_Zeus_. Why, what a memory you have for these little outings of mine!
--Now, my idea about Ixion is this. It would never do to punish
him, or to exclude him from our table; that would not look well. No;
as he is so fond of you, so hard hit--even to weeping point, you tell
me,--

_Hera_. Zeus! What _are_ you going to say?

_Zeus_. Don't be alarmed. Let us make a cloud-phantom in your
likeness, and after dinner, as he lies awake (which of course he will
do, being in love), let us take it and lay it by his side. 'Twill put
him out of his pain: he will fancy he has attained his desire.

_Hera_. Never! The presumptuous villain!

_Zeus_. Yes, I know. But what harm can it do to you, if Ixion makes a
conquest of a cloud?

_Hera_. But he will think that _I_ am the cloud; he will be working
his wicked will upon _me_ for all he can tell.

_Zeus_. Now you are talking nonsense. The cloud is not Hera, and Hera
is not the cloud. Ixion will be deceived; that is all.

_Hera_. Yes, but these men are all alike--they have no delicacy. I
suppose, when he goes home, he will boast to every one of how he has
enjoyed the embraces of Hera, the wife of Zeus! Why, he may tell them
that _I_ am in love with _him_! And they will believe it; _they_ will
know nothing about the cloud.

_Zeus_. If he says anything of the kind he shall soon find himself in
Hades, spinning round on a wheel for all eternity. That will keep him
busy! And serve him right; not for falling in love--I see no great
harm in that--but for letting his tongue wag.

F.




VII

_Hephaestus. Apollo_


_Heph_. Have you seen Maia's baby, Apollo? such a pretty little thing,
with a smile for everybody; you can see it is going to be a treasure.

_Ap_. That baby a treasure? well, in mischief, Iapetus is young beside
it.

_Heph_. Why, what harm can it do, only just born?

_Ap_. Ask Posidon; it stole his trident. Ask Ares; he was surprised to
find his sword gone out of the scabbard. Not to mention myself,
disarmed of bow and arrows.

_Heph_. Never! that infant? he has hardly found his legs yet; he is
not out of his baby-linen.

_Ap_. Ah, you will find out, Hephaestus, if he gets within reach of
you.

_Heph_. He has been.

_Ap_. Well? all your tools safe? none missing?

_Heph_. Of course not.

_Ap_. I advise you to make sure.

_Heph_. Zeus! where are my pincers?

_Ap_. Ah, you will find them among the baby-linen.

_Heph_. So light-fingered? one would swear he had practised petty
larceny in the womb.

_Ap_. Ah, and you don't know what a glib young chatterbox he is; and,
if he has his way, he is to be our errand-boy!
Yesterday he challenged
Eros--tripped up his heels somehow, and had him on his back in a
twinkling; before the applause was over, he had taken the opportunity
of a congratulatory hug from Aphrodite to steal her girdle; Zeus had
not done laughing before--the sceptre was gone. If the thunderbolt had
not been too heavy, and very hot, he would have made away with that
too.

_Heph_. The child has some spirit in him, by your account.

_Ap_. Spirit, yes--and some music, moreover, young as he is.

_Heph_. How can you tell that?

_Ap_. He picked up a dead tortoise somewhere or other, and contrived
an instrument with it. He fitted horns to it, with a cross-bar, stuck
in pegs, inserted a bridge, and played a sweet tuneful thing that made
an old harper like me quite envious. Even at night, Maia was saying,
he does not stay in Heaven; he goes down poking his nose into Hades--
on a thieves' errand, no doubt. Then he has a pair of wings, and he
has made himself a magic wand, which he uses for marshalling souls--
convoying the dead to their place.

_Heph_. Ah, I gave him that, for a toy.

_Ap_. And by way of payment he stole--

_Heph_. Well thought on; I must go and get them; you may be right
about the baby-linen.

H.




VIII _Hephaestus. Zeus_


_Heph_. What are your orders, Zeus? You sent for me, and here I am;
with such an edge to my axe as would cleave a stone at one blow.

_Zeus_. Ah; that's right, Hephaestus. Just split my head in half, will
you?

_Heph_. You think I am mad, perhaps? --Seriously, now, what can I do
for you?

_Zeus_. What I say: crack my skull. Any insubordination, now, and you
shall taste my resentment; it will not be the first time. Come, a good
lusty stroke, and quick about it. I am in the pangs of travail; my
brain is in a whirl.

_Heph_. Mind you, the consequences may be serious: the axe is sharp,
and will prove but a rough midwife.

_Zeus_. Hew away, and fear nothing. I know what I am about.

_Heph_. H'm. I don't like it: however, one must obey orders. . . . Why,
what have we here? A maiden in full armour! This is no joke, Zeus. You
might well be waspish, with this great girl growing up beneath your
_pia mater_; in armour, too! You have been carrying a regular barracks
on your shoulders all this time. So active too! See, she is dancing a
war-dance, with shield and spear in full swing. She is like one
inspired; and (what is more to the point) she is extremely pretty, and
has come to marriageable years in these few minutes; those grey eyes,
even, look well beneath a helmet. Zeus, I claim her as the fee for my
midwifery.

_Zeus_. Impossible! She is determined to remain a maid for ever. Not
that _I_ have any objection, personally.

_Heph_. That is all I want. You can leave the rest to me. I'll carry
her off this moment.

_Zeus_. Well, if you think it so easy. But I am sure it is a hopeless
case.

F.




XI

_Aphrodite. Selene_


_Aph_. What is this I hear about you, Selene? When your car is over
Caria, you stop it to gaze at Endymion sleeping hunter-fashion in the
open; sometimes, they tell me, you actually get out and go down to
him.

_Sel_. Ah, Aphrodite, ask that son of yours; it is he must answer for
it all.

_Aph_. Well now, what a naughty boy! he gets his own mother into all
sorts of scrapes; I must go down, now to Ida for Anchises of Troy, now
to Lebanon for my Assyrian stripling;--mine? no, he put Persephone in
love with him too, and so robbed me of half my darling. I have told
him many a time that if he would not behave himself I would break his
artillery for him, and clip his wings; and before now I have smacked
his little behind with my slipper. It is no use; he is frightened and
cries for a minute or two, and then forgets all about it. But tell me,
is Endymion handsome? That is always a comfort in our humiliation.

_Sel_. _Most_ handsome, _I_ think, my dear; you should see him when he
has spread out his cloak on the rock and is asleep; his javelins in
his left hand, just slipping from his grasp, the right arm bent
upwards, making a bright frame to the face, and he breathing softly in
helpless slumber. Then I come noiselessly down, treading on tiptoe not
to wake and startle him--but there, you know all about it; why tell
you the rest? I am dying of love, that is all.

H.




XII

_Aphrodite. Eros_


_Aph_. Child, child, you must think what you are doing. It is bad
enough on earth,--you are always inciting men to do some mischief, to
themselves or to one another;--but I am speaking of the Gods. You
change Zeus into shape after shape as the fancy takes you; you make
Selene come down from the sky; you keep Helius loitering about with
Clymene, till he sometimes forgets to drive out at all. As for the
naughty tricks you play on your own mother, you know you are safe
there. But Rhea! how could you _dare_ to set her on thinking of that
young fellow in Phrygia, an old lady like her, the mother of so many
Gods? Why, you have made her quite mad: she harnesses those lions of
hers, and drives about all over Ida with the Corybantes, who are as
mad as herself, shrieking high and low for Attis; and there they are,
slashing their arms with swords, rushing about over the hills, like
wild things, with dishevelled hair, blowing horns, beating drums,
clashing cymbals; all Ida is one mad tumult. I am quite uneasy about
it; yes, you wicked boy, your poor mother is quite uneasy: some day
when Rhea is in one of her mad fits (or when she is in her senses,
more likely), she will send the Corybantes after you, with orders to
tear you to pieces, or throw you to the lions. You are so venturesome!

_Eros_. Be under no alarm, mother; I understand lions perfectly by
this time. I get on to their backs every now and then, and take hold
of their manes, and ride them about; and when I put my hand into their
mouths, they only lick it, and let me take it out again. Besides, how
is Rhea going to have time to attend to me? She is too busy with
Attis. And I see no harm in just pointing out beautiful things to
people; they can leave them alone;--it is nothing to do with me. And
how would you like it if Ares were not in love with you, or you with
him?

_Aph_. Masterful boy! always the last word! But you will remember this
some day.

F.




XIII

_Zeus. Asclefius. Heracles_


_Zeus_. Now, Asclepius and Heracles, stop that quarrelling; you might
as well be men; such behaviour is very improper and out of place at
the table of the Gods.

_Her_. Is this druggist fellow to have a place above me, Zeus?

_Asc_. Of course I am; I am your better.

_Her_. Why, you numskull? because it was Zeus's bolt that cracked your
skull, for your unholy doings, and now you have been allowed your
immortality again out of sheer pity?

_Asc_. You twit me with my fiery end; you seem to have forgotten that
you too were burnt to death, on Oeta.

_Her_. Was there no difference between your life and mine, then? I am
Zeus's son, and it is well known how I toiled, cleansing the earth,
conquering monsters, and chastising men of violence. Whereas you are a
root-grubber and a quack; I dare say you have your use for doctoring
sick men, but you never did a bold deed in your life.

_Asc_. That comes well from you, whose burns I healed, when you came
up all singed not so long ago; between the tunic and the flames, your
body was half consumed. Anyhow, it would be enough to mention that I
was never a slave like you, never combed wool in Lydia, masquerading
in a purple shawl and being slippered by an Omphale, never killed my
wife and children in a fit of the spleen. Her. If you don't stop being
rude, I shall soon show you that immortality is not much good. I will
take you up and pitch you head over heels out of Heaven, and Apollo
himself shall never mend your broken crown. Zeus. Cease, I say, and
let us hear ourselves speak, or I will send you both away from table.
Heracles, Asclepius died before you, and has the right to a better
place.

H.




XIV

_Hermes. Apollo_


_Her_. Why so sad, Apollo?

_Ap_. Alas, Hermes,--my love!

_Her_. Oh; that's bad. What, are you still brooding over that affair
of Daphne?

_Ap_. No. I grieve for my beloved; the Laconian, the son of Oebalus.

_Her_. Hyacinth? he is not dead?

_Ap_. Dead.

_Her_. Who killed him? Who could have the heart? That lovely boy!

_Ap_. It was the work of my own hand.

_Her_. You must have been mad!

_Ap_. Not mad; it was an accident.

_Her_. Oh? and how did it happen?

_Ap_. He was learning to throw the quoit, and I was throwing with him.
I had just sent my quoit up into the air as usual, when jealous Zephyr
(damned be he above all winds! he had long been in love with Hyacinth,
though Hyacinth would have nothing to say to him)--Zephyr came
blustering down from Taygetus, and dashed the quoit upon the child's
head; blood flowed from the wound in streams, and in one moment all
was over. My first thought was of revenge; I lodged an arrow in
Zephyr, and pursued his flight to the mountain. As for the child, I
buried him at Amyclae, on the fatal spot; and from his blood I have
caused a flower to spring up, sweetest, fairest of flowers, inscribed
with letters of woe. --Is my grief unreasonable?

_Her_. It is, Apollo. You knew that you had set your heart upon a
mortal: grieve not then for his mortality.

F.




XV

_Hermes. Apollo_


_Her_. To think that a cripple and a blacksmith like him should marry
two such queens of beauty as Aphrodite and Charis!

_Ap_. Luck, Hermes--that is all. But I do wonder at their putting up
with his company; they see him running with sweat, bent over the
forge, all sooty-faced; and yet they cuddle and kiss him, and sleep
with him!

_Her_. Yes, it makes me angry too; how I envy him! Ah, Apollo, you may
let your locks grow, and play your harp, and be proud of your looks; I
am a healthy fellow, and can touch the lyre; but, when it comes to
bedtime, we lie alone.

_Ap_. Well, my loves never prosper; Daphne and Hyacinth were my great
passions; she so detested me that being turned to a tree was more
attractive than I; and him I killed with a quoit. Nothing is left me
of them but wreaths of their leaves and flowers.

_Her_. Ah, once, once, I and Aphrodite--but no; no boasting.

_Ap_. I know; that is how Hermaphroditus is accounted for. But perhaps
you can tell me how it is that Aphrodite and Charis are not jealous of
one another.

_Her_. Because one is his wife in Lemnus and the other in Heaven.
Besides, Aphrodite cares most about Ares; he is her real love; so she
does not trouble her head about the blacksmith.

_Ap_. Do you think Hephaestus sees?

_Her_. Oh, he sees, yes; but what can he do? he knows what a martial
young fellow it is; so he holds his tongue. He talks of inventing a
net, though, to take them in the act with.