Produced by David Widger
THE INFERNAL MARRIAGE
By Benjamin Disraeli
_Proserpine was the daughter of Jupiter and Ceres. Pluto, the god
of Hell, became enamoured of her. His addresses were favoured by her
father, but opposed by Ceres. Under these circumstances, he surprised
her on the plains of Enna, and carried her off in his chariot._
THE INFERNAL MARRIAGE
PART I.
_A Sublime Elopement_
IT WAS clearly a runaway match--never indeed was such a sublime
elopement. The four horses were coal-black, with blood-red manes and
tails; and they were shod with rubies. They were harnessed to a basaltic
car by a single rein of flame. Waving his double-pronged trident in the
air, the god struck the blue breast of Cyane, and the waters instantly
parted. In rushed the wild chariot, the pale and insensible Proserpine
clinging to the breast of her grim lover.
Through the depths of the hitherto unfathomed lake the infernal steeds
held their breathless course. The car jolted against its bed. ‘Save me!’
exclaimed the future Queen of Hades, and she clung with renewed energy
to the bosom of the dark bridegroom. The earth opened; they entered the
kingdom of the gnomes. Here Pluto was popular. The lurid populace gave
him a loud shout. The chariot whirled along through shadowy cities and
by dim highways, swarming with a busy race of shades.
‘Ye flowery meads of Enna!’ exclaimed the terrified Proserpine, ‘shall I
never view you again? What an execrable climate!’
‘Here, however, in-door nature is charming,’ responded Pluto. ‘Tis a
great nation of manufacturers. You are better, I hope, my Proserpine.
The passage of the water is never very agreeable, especially to ladies.’
‘And which is our next stage?’ inquired Proserpine.
‘The centre of Earth,’ replied Pluto. ‘Travelling is so much improved
that at this rate we shall reach Hades before night.’
‘Alas!’ exclaimed Proserpine, ‘is not this night?’
‘You are not unhappy, my Proserpine?’
‘Beloved of my heart, I have given up everything for you! I do not
repent, but I am thinking of my mother.’
‘Time will pacify the Lady Ceres. What is done cannot be undone. In the
winter, when a residence among us is even desirable, I should not be
surprised were she to pay us a visit.’
‘Her prejudices are so strong,’ murmured the bride. ‘Oh my Pluto! I hope
your family will be kind to me.’
‘Who could be unkind to Proserpine? Ours is a very domestic circle. I
can assure you that everything is so well ordered among us that I have
no recollection of a domestic broil.’
‘But marriage is such a revolution in a bachelor’s establishment,’
replied Proserpine, despondingly. ‘To tell the truth, too, I am half
frightened at the thought of the Furies. I have heard that their tempers
are so violent.’
‘They mean well; their feelings are strong, but their hearts are in the
right place. I flatter myself you will like my nieces, the Parcae. They
are accomplished, and favourites among the men.’
‘Indeed!’
‘Oh! quite irresistible.’
‘My heart misgives me. I wish you had at least paid them the compliment
of apprising them of our marriage.’
‘Cheer up. For myself, I have none but pleasant anticipations. I long
to be at home once more by my own fireside, and patting my faithful
Cerberus.’
‘I think I shall like Cerberus; I am fond of dogs.’
‘I am sure you will. He is the most faithful creature in the world.’
‘Is he very fierce?’
‘Not if he takes a fancy to you; and who can help taking a fancy to
Proserpine?’
‘Ah! my Pluto, you are in love.’
‘Is this Hades?’ inquired Proserpine.
An avenue of colossal bulls, sculptured in basalt and breathing
living flame, led to gates of brass, adorned with friezes of rubies,
representing the wars and discomfiture of the Titans. A crimson cloud
concealed the height of the immense portals, and on either side hovered
o’er the extending walls of the city; a watch-tower or a battlement
occasionally flashing forth, and forcing their forms through the lurid
obscurity.
‘Queen of Hades! welcome to your capital!’ exclaimed Pluto.
The monarch rose in his car and whirled a javelin at the gates. There
was an awful clang, and then a still more terrible growl.
‘My faithful Cerberus!’ exclaimed the King.
The portals flew open, and revealed the gigantic form of the celebrated
watch-dog of Hell. It completely filled their wide expanse. Who but
Pluto could have viewed without horror that enormous body covered with
shaggy spikes, those frightful paws clothed with claws of steel, that
tail like a boa constrictor, those fiery eyes that blazed like the
blood-red lamps in a pharos, and those three forky tongues, round each
of which were entwined a vigorous family of green rattlesnakes!
‘Ah! Cerby! Cerby!’ exclaimed Pluto; ‘my fond and faithful Cerby!’
Proserpine screamed as the animal gambolled up to the side of the
chariot and held out its paw to its master. Then, licking the royal palm
with its three tongues at once, it renewed its station with a wag of its
tail which raised such a cloud of dust that for a few minutes nothing
was perceptible.
‘The monster!’ exclaimed Proserpine.
‘My love!’ exclaimed Pluto, with astonishment.
‘The hideous brute!’
‘My dear!’ exclaimed Pluto.
‘He shall never touch me.’
‘Proserpine!’
‘Don’t touch me with that hand. You never shall touch me, if you allow
that disgusting animal to lick your hand.’
‘I beg to inform you that there are few beings of any kind for whom I
have a greater esteem than that faithful and affectionate beast.’
‘Oh! if you like Cerberus better than me, I have no more to say,’
exclaimed the bride, bridling up with indignation.
‘My Proserpine is perverse,’ replied Pluto; ‘her memory has scarcely
done me justice.’
‘I am sure you said you liked Cerberus better than anything in the
world,’ continued the goddess, with a voice trembling with passion.
‘I said no such thing,’ replied Pluto, somewhat sternly.
‘I see how it is,’ replied Proserpine, with a sob; ‘you are tired of
me.’
‘My beloved!’
‘I never expected this.’
‘My child!’
‘Was it for this I left my mother?’
‘Powers of Hades! How you can say such things!’
‘Broke her heart?’
‘Proserpine! Proserpine!’
‘Gave up daylight?’
‘For the sake of Heaven, then, calm yourself!’
‘Sacrificed everything?’
‘My love! my life! my angel! what is all this?’
‘And then to be abused for the sake of a dog!’
‘By all the shades of Hell, but this is enough to provoke even
immortals. What have I done, said, or thought, to justify such
treatment?’
‘Oh! me!’
‘Proserpine!’
‘Heigho!’
‘Proserpine! Proserpine!’
‘So soon is the veil withdrawn!’
‘Dearest, you must be unwell. This journey has been too much for you,’
‘On our very bridal day to be so treated!’
‘Soul of my existence, don’t make me mad. I love you, I adore you; I
have no hope, no wish, no thought but you. I swear it; I swear it by
my sceptre and my throne. Speak, speak to your Pluto: tell him all your
wish, all your desire. What would you have me do?’
‘Shoot that horrid beast.’
‘Ah! me!’
‘What, you will not? I thought how it would be. I am Proserpine, your
beloved, adored Proserpine. You have no wish, no hope, no thought but
for me! I have only to speak, and what I desire will be instantly done!
And I do speak, I tell you my wish, I express to you my desire, and I
am instantly refused! And what have I requested? Is it such a mighty
favour? Is it anything unreasonable? Is there, indeed, in my entreaty
anything so vastly out of the way? The death of a dog, a disgusting
animal, which has already shaken my nerves to pieces; and if ever (here
she hid her face in his breast), if ever that event should occur which
both must desire, my Pluto, I am sure the very sight of that horrible
beast will--I dare not say what it will do.’
Pluto looked puzzled.
‘Indeed, my Proserpine, it is not in my power to grant your request; for
Cerberus is immortal, like ourselves.’
‘Me! miserable!’
‘Some arrangement, however, may be made to keep him out of your sight
and hearing. I can banish him.’
‘Can you, indeed? Oh! banish him, my Pluto! pray banish him! I never
shall be happy until Cerberus is banished.’
‘I will do anything you desire; but I confess to you I have some
misgivings. He is an invaluable watch-dog; and I fear, without his
superintendence, the guardians of the gate will scarcely do their duty.’
‘Oh! yes: I am sure they will, my Pluto! I will ask them to, I will ask
them myself, I will request them, as a particular and personal favour to
myself, to be very careful indeed. And if they do their duty, and I am
sure they will, they shall be styled, as a reward, “Proserpine’s Own
Guards.”’
‘A reward, indeed!’ said the enamoured monarch, as, with a sigh, he
signed the order for the banishment of Cerberus in the form of his
promotion to the office of Master of the royal and imperial bloodhounds.
The burning waves of Phlegethon assumed a lighter hue. It was morning.
It was the morning after the arrival of Pluto and his unexpected bride.
In one of the principal rooms of the palace three beautiful females,
clothed in cerulean robes spangled with stars, and their heads adorned
with golden crowns, were at work together. One held a distaff, from
which the second spun; and the third wielded an enormous pair of
adamantine shears, with which she perpetually severed the labours of her
sisters. Tall were they in stature and beautiful in form. Very fair;
an expression of haughty serenity pervaded their majestic countenances.
Their three companions, however, though apparently of the same sex, were
of a different character. If women can ever be ugly, certainly
these three ladies might put in a valid claim to that epithet. Their
complexions were dark and withered, and their eyes, though bright, were
bloodshot. Scantily clothed in black garments, not unstained with gore,
their wan and offensive forms were but slightly veiled. Their hands were
talons; their feet cloven; and serpents were wreathed round their brows
instead of hair. Their restless and agitated carriage afforded also not
less striking contrast to the polished and aristocratic demeanour of
their companions. They paced the chamber with hurried and unequal steps,
and wild and uncouth gestures; waving, with a reckless ferocity, burning
torches and whips of scorpions. It is hardly necessary to add that these
were the Furies, and that the conversation which I am about to report
was carried on with the Fates.
‘A thousand serpents!’ shrieked Tisiphone. ‘I will never believe it.’
‘Racks and flames!’ squeaked Megaera. ‘It is impossible.’
‘Eternal torture!’ moaned Alecto. ‘‘Tis a lie.’
‘Not Jupiter himself should convince us!’ the Furies joined in infernal
chorus.
‘‘Tis nevertheless true,’ calmly observed the beautiful Clotho.
‘You will soon have the honour of being presented to her,’ added the
serene Lachesis.
‘And whatever we may feel,’ observed the considerate Atropos, ‘I think,
my dear girls, you had better restrain yourselves.’
‘And what sort of thing is she?’ inquired Tisiphone, with a shriek.
‘I have heard that she is lovely,’ answered Clotho. ‘Indeed, it is
impossible to account for the affair in any other way.’
‘‘Tis neither possible to account for nor to justify it,’ squeaked
Megaera.
‘Is there, indeed, a Queen in Hell?’ moaned Alecto.
‘We shall hold no more drawing-rooms,’ said Lachesis.
‘We will never attend hers,’ said the Furies.
‘You must,’ replied the Fates.
‘I have no doubt she will give herself airs,’ shrieked Tisiphone.
‘We must remember where she has been brought up, and be considerate,’
replied Lachesis.
‘I dare say you three will get on very well with her,’ squeaked Megasra.
‘You always get on well with people.’
‘We must remember how very strange things here must appear to her,’
observed Atropos.
‘No one can deny that there are some very disagreeable sights,’ said
Clotho.
‘There is something in that,’ replied Tisiphone, looking in the glass,
and arranging her serpents; ‘and for my part, poor girl, I almost pity
her, when I think she will have to visit the Harpies.’
At this moment four little pages entered the room, who, without
exception, were the most hideous dwarfs that ever attended upon a
monarch. They were clothed only in parti-coloured tunics, and their
breasts and legs were quite bare. From the countenance of the first you
would have supposed he was in a convulsion; his hands were clenched
and his hair stood on end: this was Terror! The protruded veins of the
second seemed ready to burst, and his rubicund visage decidedly proved
that he had blood in his head; this was Rage! The third was of an ashen
colour throughout: this was Paleness! And the fourth, with a countenance
not without traces of beauty, was even more disgusting than his
companions from the quantity of horrible flies, centipedes, snails, and
other noisome, slimy, and indescribable monstrosities that were crawling
all about his body and feeding on his decaying features. The name of
this fourth page was Death!
‘The King and Queen!’ announced the pages.
Pluto, during the night, had prepared Proserpine for the worst, and had
endeavoured to persuade her that his love would ever compensate for
all annoyances. She was in excellent spirits and in very good humour;
therefore, though she could with difficulty stifle a scream when she
recognised the Furies, she received the congratulations of the Parcae
with much cordiality.
‘I have the pleasure, Proserpine, of presenting you to my family,’ said
Pluto.
‘Who, I am sure, hope to make Hades agreeable to your Majesty,’ rejoined
Clotho. The Furies uttered a suppressed sound between a murmur and a
growl.
‘I have ordered the chariot,’ said Pluto. ‘I propose to take the Queen a
ride, and show her some of our lions.’
‘She will, I am sure, be delighted,’ said Lachesis.
‘I long to see Ixion,’ said Proserpine.
‘The wretch!’ shrieked Tisiphone.
‘I cannot help thinking that he has been very unfairly treated,’ said
Proserpine.
‘What!’ squeaked Megaera. ‘The ravisher!’
‘Ay! it is all very well,’ replied Proserpine; ‘but, for my part, if we
knew the truth of that affair-----’
‘Is it possible that your Majesty can speak in such a tone of levity of
such an offender?’ shrieked Tisiphone.
‘Is it possible?’ moaned Alecto.
‘Ah! you have heard only one side of the question; but for my part,
knowing as much of Juno as I do-----’
‘The Queen of Heaven!’ observed Atropos, with an intimidating glance.
‘The Queen of Fiddlestick!’ said Proserpine; ‘as great a flirt as ever
existed, with all her prudish looks.’
The Fates and the Furies exchanged glances of astonishment and horror.
‘For my part,’ continued Proserpine, ‘I make it a rule to support the
weaker side, and nothing will ever persuade me that Ixion is not a
victim, and a pitiable one.’
‘Well! men generally have the best of it in these affairs,’ said
Lachesis, with a forced smile.
‘Juno ought to be ashamed of herself,’ said Proserpine. ‘Had I been in
her situation, they should have tied me to a wheel first. At any rate,
they ought to have punished him in Heaven. I have no idea of those
people sending every _mauvais sujet_ to Hell.’
‘But what shall we do?’ inquired Pluto, who wished to turn the
conversation.
‘Shall we turn out a sinner and hunt him for her Majesty’s diversion?’
suggested Tisiphone, flanking her serpents.
‘Nothing of the kind will ever divert me,’ said Proserpine; ‘for I have
no hesitation in saying that I do not at all approve of these eternal
punishments, or, indeed, of any punishment whatever.’
‘The heretic!’ whispered Tisiphone to Megaera. Alecto moaned.
‘It might be more interesting to her Majesty,’ said Atropos, ‘to witness
some of those extraordinary instances of predestined misery with which
Hades abounds. Shall we visit OEdipus?’
‘Poor fellow!’ exclaimed Proserpine. ‘For myself, I willingly confess
that torture disgusts and Destiny puzzles me.’
The Fates and the Furies all alike started.
‘I do not understand this riddle of Destiny,’ continued the young Queen.
‘If you, Parcae, have predestined that a man should commit a crime,
it appears to me very unjust that you should afterwards call upon the
Furies to punish him for its commission.’
‘But man is a free agent,’ observed Lachesis, in as mild a tone as she
could command.
‘Then what becomes of Destiny?’ replied Proserpine.
‘Destiny is eternal and irresistible,’ replied Clotho. ‘All is ordained;
but man is, nevertheless, master of his own actions.’
‘I do not understand that,’ said Proserpine.
‘It is not meant to be understood,’ said Atropos; ‘but you must
nevertheless believe it.’
‘I make it a rule only to believe what I understand,’ replied
Proserpine.
‘It appears,’ said Lachesis, with a blended glance of contempt and
vengeance, ‘that your Majesty, though a goddess, is an atheist.’
‘As for that, anybody may call me just what they please, provided they
do nothing else. So long as I am not tied to a wheel or whipped with
scorpions for speaking my mind, I shall be as tolerant of the speech and
acts of others as I expect them to be tolerant of mine. Come, Pluto, I
am sure that the chariot must be ready!’
So saying, her Majesty took the arm of her spouse, and with a haughty
curtsey left the apartment.
‘Did you ever!’ shrieked Tisiphone, as the door closed.
‘No! never!’ squeaked Megaera.
‘Never! never!’ moaned Alecto.
‘She must understand what she believes, must she?’ said Lachesis,
scarcely less irritated.
‘I never heard such nonsense,’ said Clotho.
‘What next!’ said Atropos.
‘Disgusted with torture!’ exclaimed the Furies.
‘Puzzled with Destiny!’ said the Fates.
It was the third morning after the Infernal Marriage; the slumbering
Proserpine reposed in the arms of the snoring Pluto. There was a loud
knocking at the chamber-door. Pluto jumped up in the middle of a dream.
‘My life, what is the matter?’ exclaimed Proserpine.
The knocking was repeated and increased. There was also a loud shout of
‘treason, murder, and fire!’
‘What is the matter?’ exclaimed the god, jumping out of bed and seizing
his trident. ‘Who is there?’
‘Your pages, your faithful pages! Treason! treason! For the sake of
Hell, open the door. Murder, fire, treason!’
‘Enter!’ said Pluto, as the door was unlocked.
And Terror and Rage entered.
‘You frightful things, get out of the room!’ cried Proserpine.
‘A moment, my angel!’ said Pluto, ‘a single moment. Be not alarmed, my
best love; I pray you be not alarmed. Well, imps, why am I disturbed?’
‘Oh!’ said Terror. Rage could not speak, but gnashed his teeth and
stamped his feet.
‘O-o-o-h!’ repeated Terror.
‘Speak, cursed imps!’ cried the enraged Pluto; and he raised his arm.
‘A man! a man!’ cried Terror. ‘Treason, treason! a man! a man!’
‘What man?’ said Pluto, in a rage.
‘A man, a live man, has entered Hell!’
‘You don’t say so?’ said Proserpine; ‘a man, a live man. Let me see him
immediately.’
‘Where is he?’ said Pluto; ‘what is he doing?’
‘He is here, there, and everywhere! asking for your wife, and singing
like anything.’
‘Proserpine!’ said Pluto, reproachfully; but, to do the god justice, he
was more astounded than jealous.
‘I am sure I shall be delighted to see him; it is so long since I have
seen a live man,’ said Proserpine. ‘Who can he be? A man, and a live
man! How delightful! It must be a messenger from my mother.’
‘But how came he here?’
‘Ah! how came he here?’ echoed Terror.
‘No time must be lost!’ exclaimed Pluto, scrambling on his robe. ‘Seize
him, and bring him into the council chamber. My charming Proserpine,
excuse me for a moment.’
‘Not at all; I will accompany you.’
‘But, my love, my sweetest, my own, this is business; these are affairs
of state. The council chamber is not a place for you.’
‘And why not?’ said Proserpine. ‘I have no idea of ever leaving you for
a moment. Why not for me as well as for the Fates and the Furies? Am I
not Queen? I have no idea of such nonsense!’
‘My love!’ said the deprecating husband.
‘You don’t go without me,’ said the imperious wife, seizing his robe.
‘I must,’ said Pluto.
‘Then you shall never return,’ said Proserpine.
‘Enchantress! be reasonable.’
‘I never was, and I never will be,’ replied the Goddess.
‘Treason! treason!’ screamed Terror.
‘My love, I must go!’
‘Pluto,’ said Proserpine, ‘understand me once for all, I will not be
contradicted.’
Rage stamped his foot.
‘Proserpine, understand me once for all, it is impossible,’ said the
God, frowning.
‘My Pluto!’ said the Queen. ‘Is it my Pluto who speaks thus sternly to
me? Is it he who, but an hour ago, a short hour ago, died upon my bosom
in transports and stifled me with kisses! Unhappy woman! wretched,
miserable Proserpine! Oh! my mother! my kind, my affectionate mother!
Have I disobeyed you for this! For this have I deserted you! For this
have I broken your beloved heart!’ She buried her face in the crimson
counterpane, and bedewed its gorgeous embroidery with her fast-flowing
tears.
‘Treason!’ shouted Terror.
‘Ha! ha! ha!’ exclaimed the hysterical Proserpine.
‘What am I to do?’ cried Pluto. ‘Proserpine, my adored, my beloved, my
enchanting Proserpine, compose yourself; for my sake, compose yourself.
I love you! I adore you! You know it! oh! indeed you know it!’
The hysterics increased.
‘Treason! treason!’ shouted Terror.
‘Hold your infernal tongue,’ said Pluto. ‘What do I care for treason
when the Queen is in this state?’ He knelt by the bedside, and tried to
stop her mouth with kisses, and ever and anon whispered his passion. ‘My
Proserpine, I beseech you to be calm; I will do anything you like. Come,
come, then, to the council!’
The hysterics ceased; the Queen clasped him in her arms and rewarded him
with a thousand embraces. Then, jumping up, she bathed her swollen eyes
with a beautiful cosmetic that she and her maidens had distilled from
the flowers of Enna; and, wrapping herself up in her shawl, descended
with his Majesty, who was quite as much puzzled about the cause of this
disturbance as when he was first roused.
Crossing an immense covered bridge, the origin of the Bridge of Sighs at
Venice, over the royal gardens, which consisted entirely of cypress,
the royal pair, preceded by the pages-in-waiting, entered the council
chamber. The council was already assembled. On either side of a throne
of sulphur, from which issued the four infernal rivers of Lethe,
Phlegethon, Cocytus, and Acheron, were ranged the Eumenides and Parcae.
Lachesis and her sisters turned up their noses when they observed
Proserpine; but the Eumenides could not stifle their fury, in spite of
the hints of their more subdued but not less malignant companions.
‘What is all this?’ inquired Pluto.
‘The constitution is in danger,’ said the Parcae in chorus.
‘Both in church and state,’ added the Furies. ‘‘Tis a case of treason
and blasphemy;’ and they waved their torches and shook their whips with
delighted anticipation of their use.
‘Detail the circumstances,’ said Pluto, waving his hand majestically to
Lachesis, in whose good sense he had great confidence.
‘A man, a living man, has entered your kingdom, unknown and unnoticed,’
said Lachesis.
‘By my sceptre, is it true?’ said the astonished King. ‘Is he seized?’
‘The extraordinary mortal baffles our efforts,’ said Lachesis. ‘He
bears with him a lyre, the charmed gift of Apollo, and so seducing are
his strains that in vain our guards advance to arrest his course; they
immediately begin dancing, and he easily eludes their efforts. The
general confusion is indescribable. All business is at a standstill:
Ixion rests upon his wheel; old Sisyphus sits down on his mountain,
and his stone has fallen with a terrible plash into Acheron. In short,
unless we are energetic, we are on the eve of a revolution.’
‘His purpose?’
‘He seeks yourself and--her Majesty,’ added Lachesis, with a sneer.
‘Immediately announce that we will receive him.’
The unexpected guest was not slow in acknowledging the royal summons.
A hasty treaty was drawn up; he was to enter the palace unmolested,
on condition that he ceased playing his lyre. The Fates and the Furies
exchanged significant glances as his approach was announced.
The man, the live man, who had committed the unprecedented crime of
entering Hell without a licence, and the previous deposit of his soul as
security for the good behaviour of his body, stood before the surprised
and indignant Court of Hades. Tall and graceful in stature, and crowned
with laurels, Proserpine was glad to observe that the man, who was
evidently famous, was also good-looking.
‘Thy purpose, mortal?’ inquired Pluto, with awful majesty.
‘Mercy!’ answered the stranger in a voice of exquisite melody, and
sufficiently embarrassed to render him interesting.
‘What is mercy?’ inquired the Fates and the Furies.
‘Speak, stranger, without fear,’ said Proserpine. ‘Thy name?’
‘Is Orpheus; but a few days back the too happy husband of the enchanting
Eurydice. Alas! dread King, and thou too, beautiful and benignant
partner of his throne, I won her by my lyre, and by my lyre I would
redeem her. Know, then, that in the very glow of our gratified passion
a serpent crept under the flowers on which we reposed, and by a fatal
sting summoned my adored to the shades. Why did it not also summon me?
I will not say why should I not have been the victim in her stead; for
I feel too keenly that the doom of Eurydice would not have been less
forlorn, had she been the wretched being who had been spared to life. O
King! they whispered on earth that thou too hadst yielded thy heart to
the charms of love. Pluto, they whispered, is no longer stern: Pluto
also feels the all-subduing influence of beauty. Dread monarch, by the
self-same passion that rages in our breasts alike, I implore thy mercy.
Thou hast risen from the couch of love, the arm of thy adored has
pressed upon thy heart, her honied lips have clung with rapture
to thine, still echo in thy ears all the enchanting phrases of her
idolatry. Then, by the memory of these, by all the higher and ineffable
joys to which these lead, King of Hades, spare me, oh! spare me,
Eurydice!’
Proserpine threw her arms round the neck of her husband, and, hiding her
face in his breast, wept.
‘Rash mortal, you demand that which is not in the power of Pluto to
concede,’ said Lachesis.
‘I have heard much of treason since my entrance into Hades,’ replied
Orpheus, ‘and this sounds like it.’
‘Mortal!’ exclaimed Clotho, with contempt.
‘Nor is it in your power to return, sir,’ said Tisiphone, shaking her
whip.
‘We have accounts to settle with you,’ said Megaera.
‘Spare her, spare her,’ murmured Proserpine to her lover.
‘King of Hades!’ said Lachesis, with much dignity, ‘I hold a
responsible office in your realm, and I claim the constitutional
privilege of your attention. I protest against the undue influence
of the Queen. She is a power unknown in our constitution, and an
irresponsible agent that I will not recognise. Let her go back to the
drawing-room, where all will bow to her.’
‘Hag!’ exclaimed Proserpine. ‘King of Hades, I, too, can appeal to you.
Have I accepted your crown to be insulted by your subjects?’
‘A subject, may it please your Majesty, who has duties as strictly
defined by our infernal constitution as those of your royal spouse;
duties, too, which, let me tell you, madam, I and _my order_ are
resolved to perform.’
‘Gods of Olympus!’ cried Proserpine. ‘Is this to be a Queen?’
‘Before we proceed further in this discussion,’ said Lachesis, ‘I must
move an inquiry into the conduct of his Excellency the Governor of the
Gates. I move, then, that Cerberus be summoned.
Pluto started, and the blood rose to his dark cheek. ‘I have not yet had
an opportunity of mentioning,’ said his Majesty, in a low tone, and with
an air of considerable confusion, ‘that I have thought fit, as a reward
for his past services, to promote Cerberus to the office of the Master
of the Hounds. He therefore is no longer responsible.’
‘O-h!’ shrieked the Furies, as they elevated their hideous eyes.
‘The constitution has invested your Majesty with a power in the
appointment of your Officers of State which your Majesty has undoubtedly
a right to exercise,’ said Lachesis. ‘What degree of discretion it
anticipated in the exercise, it is now unnecessary, and would be
extremely disagreeable, to discuss. I shall not venture to inquire by
what new influence your Majesty has been guided in the present instance.
The consequence of your Majesty’s conduct is obvious, in the very
difficult situation in which your realm is now placed. For myself and my
colleagues, I have only to observe that we decline, under this crisis,
any further responsibility; and the distaff and the shears are at your
Majesty’s service the moment your Majesty may find convenient successors
to the present holders. As a last favour, in addition to the many we are
proud to remember we have received from your Majesty, we entreat that we
may be relieved from their burthen as quickly as possible.’ (Loud cheers
from the Eumenides.)
‘We had better recall Cerberus,’ said Pluto, alarmed, ‘and send this
mortal about his business.’
‘Not without Eurydice. Oh! not without Eurydice,’ said the Queen.
‘Silence, Proserpine!’ said Pluto.
‘May it please your Majesty,’ said Lachesis, ‘I am doubtful whether we
have the power of expelling anyone from Hades. It is not less the law
that a mortal cannot remain here; and it is too notorious for me to
mention the fact that none here have the power of inflicting death.’
‘Of what use are all your laws,’ exclaimed Proserpine, ‘if they are only
to perplex us? As there are no statutes to guide us, it is obvious that
the King’s will is supreme. Let Orpheus depart, then, with his bride.’
‘The latter suggestion is clearly illegal,’ said Lachesis.
‘Lachesis, and ye, her sisters,’ said Proserpine, ‘forget, I beseech
you, any warm words that may have passed between us, and, as a personal
favour to one who would willingly be your friend, release Eurydice.
What! you shake your heads! Nay; of what importance can be a single
miserable shade, and one, too, summoned so cruelly before her time, in
these thickly-peopled regions?’
‘‘Tis the principle,’ said Lachesis; ‘‘tis the principle. Concession is
ever fatal, however slight. Grant this demand; others, and greater, will
quickly follow. Mercy becomes a precedent, and the realm is ruined.’
‘Ruined!’ echoed the Furies.
‘And I say _preserved!_’ exclaimed Proserpine with energy. ‘The State is
in confusion, and you yourselves confess that you know not how to remedy
it. Unable to suggest a course, follow mine. I am the advocate of
mercy; I am the advocate of concession; and, as you despise all higher
impulses, I meet you on your own grounds. I am their advocate for the
sake of policy, of expediency.’
‘Never!’ said the Fates.
‘Never!’ shrieked the Furies.
‘What, then, will you do with Orpheus?’
The Parcae shook their heads; even the Eumenides were silent.
‘Then you are unable to carry on the King’s government; for Orpheus must
be disposed of; all agree to that. Pluto, reject these counsellors, at
once insulting and incapable. Give me the distaff and the fatal shears.
At once form a new Cabinet; and let the release of Orpheus and Eurydice
be the basis of their policy.’ She threw her arms round his neck and
whispered in his ear.
Pluto was perplexed; his confidence in the Parcae was shaken. A
difficulty had occurred with which they could not cope. It was true the
difficulty had been occasioned by a departure from their own exclusive
and restrictive policy. It was clear that the gates of Hell ought never
to have been opened to the stranger; but opened they had been. Forced to
decide, he decided on the side of _expediency_, and signed a decree for
the departure of Orpheus and Eurydice. The Parcas immediately resigned
their posts, and the Furies walked off in a huff. Thus, on the third day
of the Infernal Marriage, Pluto found that he had quarrelled with all
his family, and that his ancient administration was broken up. The King
was without a friend, and Hell was without a Government!