POSEIDON’S FESTIVAL DAY.
It was an hour past noon when Hellen left the palace. Soon he was
traversing the great roadway among throngs of people, some on foot, some
on horseback, some in chariots; and all, like himself, bound for the
great temple.
For this was the Festival day of Poseidon, and he must now be honored
less from love than from habit. So much had this people fallen.
This great roadway was stupendous of construction. Of thirty feet in
width, it coiled about the mountain, spiral-like, from the base to the
summit fifteen hundred feet above, in terraces of a hundred feet in
height—these terraces being interrupted only about the vast groundwork
of the temple, and there being continued in tunnels. In many places the
roadway was cut out of the solid rock; and, in others, built over solid
masonry in which the arch was a conspicuous figure; whilst transverse
paths led from it up and down in numerous available points, causing the
mountain to be accessible in every part. In this manner did the ancient
Atlanteans testify their homage for Poseidon and Cleito, whose temple
surmounted all—whose temple now was so seldom approached even by those
considering themselves the most devout.
Along the roadway, with the throng, speeded Hellen until he arrived at
the wide transverse road that curved upward to the Grove of Poseidon and
through the grove to the great court of the temple.
This Grove of Poseidon, dense in its shade, was planted in cypresses and
palms that stood in groups of threes, and about it were stationed
columns of orichalcum inscribed with the ancient laws, both civil and
religious. The largest of these columns stood in front of the gateway of
the great court, and of this more will be said anon. Sufficient for the
present is it to add that, as every Atlantean passed it, he was supposed
to bow in veneration. Though of late years even this simple observance
was falling into almost utter neglect.
Hellen entered the gateway to find the great court quite filled with
people. On he pressed to the main portico—that vast portico about which
were ranged the golden statues of Poseidon’s ten sons and their
wives.[18] Here he paused, as did others, to admire the garlands flung
about these, as well as gaze upon the scene below, of mountain with
encircling zones of land and water, of the beautiful Luith winding to
the sea, of that sea spreading blue and serene to the eastward. And
Hellen thought that never had a day been so fair, never had the view
been so enchanting.
He passed through the portal, and into a spacious hall whose stone
ceiling was supported by columns of granite and syenite. From this hall
opened the great circular temple proper, its wide portal facing the
entering one; and both looking to the east.
Just within this sacred portal, Hellen took his stand so as to face the
great altar to the right. As the people entered, they also turned to
face both portal and altar, and consequently the east. Of the four
cardinal points, the east was held in the most reverence, it being
deemed the especial abiding place of the gods.
At the northern curve of the temple were three doors that led to the
temple extension. The one toward the east opened into a passage leading
to the inner holy place, or sanctuary, and through it only the king,
high priest, chief priest, and the few priests highest in authority
could pass. The middle door admitted the inferior priests from their
gathering room. By the third door, toward the west, the handmaids
entered from the long passage that extended northward to their own
building. On the left of this passage were the rooms reserved for the
priests and the few male attendants. On its right, the first door opened
into the great gathering room, and farther along were other doors
leading to rooms connecting with this that were sacred to the priests.
As the rooms on the right of the passage, as well as the gathering room,
were inside rooms, they would have been dark had not this part of the
extension been run up higher, thus admitting of apertures in the walls
just below the vaulted ceilings. To the right of this middle part, was
the inner sanctuary with its rear connecting rooms. These were lighted
by apertures; and those of the inner sanctuary and the principal rooms
overlooked the eastern coast.
On the great stone dais, holding the golden altar and leading to the
inner sanctuary, were gathered the priests, chanting. Toward the portal
were the minstrels with lyre, syrinx, harp, pipes, cymbals, and drum. At
intervals these accompanied the priests, the people swelling the
refrains.
[Illustration]
On a dais near the middle door, sat the king in his robes of state, and
about him on a lower dais were seated the nobles and their wives.
Grouped about the statues of Poseidon and Cleito were the handmaids,
attired in long flowing robes of thin white linen and garlanded with
lilies. Each held a bunch of rarest flowers, beside. A charming
spectacle were they of youthful grace and innocence. But the despairing
Hellen, as he gazed, could but shudder and grow faint at thought of
their probable fate.
At first he could not distinguish Æole, nor Electra. But erelong, he
perceived them to the left of the statue of Poseidon; and soon was
brightening under a loving look from the one and a smile from the other.
Then, so great became the pressure of the crowd, that he lost sight of
them, and thus turned his attention to the statues of the Nereids
nearest him. These, as well as the others, were lavishly decorated with
flowers conspicuous among which were the blue lotus, chrysanthemum,
anemone, acacia blossom, convolvulus, water lily, rose, tuberose, lilac,
and the graceful plumes of the papyrus. Tall shoots of the last, over
ten feet in height, also adorned the apertures, producing fine effect;
whilst garlands and festoons hung from every available point. Most
elegantly did the vast interior bear testimony to the Atlanteans’ skill
in flower culture.
When the temple was full, and but few stragglers arriving, the great
silver gong was sounded before the altar by a priest. Profound became
the quiet. And, almost instantly, the door leading to the inner
sanctuary opened to admit the high priest, the chief priest, and the few
priests of superior rank.
Of course, Oltis was the observed of all, not so much because of his
office, nor the fact of his officiating so seldom, as that the people
held an unconscious fear and distrust of him. Every eye was fixed.
Now, as he moved with slow, stately step toward the altar, a mighty
shock came upon these quiescent islanders. Oltis had dared to make
another innovation upon the ancient sacred customs! He had discarded the
white linen robe of the priests, the silver circlet with its sapphire,
and was resplendent in a purple woolen robe embroidered in gold and a
miter richly jeweled. Worse, he was wearing these with an air indicating
he would brook no interference.
The great throng began to sway, and murmur; and those that could, looked
from Oltis to King Atlano, inquiringly, resentfully.
But Atlano was smiling back as response to the salutation of the high
priest, appearing to think it in order that the priestly vestments
should rival his own in color and splendor. For Atlano wore the royal
purple sacred ever before to the king, and his high crown was no richer
in gems than the high priest’s miter.
When the king showed no disapproval, the murmurs of dissent grew louder,
and even began to swell above the anthem the priests were raising to the
accompaniment of the minstrels. But this anthem was long, and in honor
of Poseidon, and of such beauty that the dissenting ones began to
listen, charmed. When it ceased, the vast assemblage had calmed.
Then Oltis swept before the altar to chant with melodious voice an
invocation to Poseidon, the while heaping upon it the fruits and flowers
the people presented for offering. When the altar could hold no more, he
turned and implored blessings from the gods in return for the virtues of
their monarch. He dwelt long upon the king’s moderation, justice,
self-command, generosity, love of truth, freedom from covetousness and
sensuality in so fulsome a manner that Hellen writhed; and next caught
himself groaning as he wondered over the easy forbearance of this
listening people.
When Oltis had finished, and was raising his head proudly to survey the
immense audience, Hellen took in as never before his strong likeness to
Atlano. Both were tall, powerfully formed, strong featured, slightly
receding of forehead and chin, red of skin, and fiery-eyed. But, in
Oltis’ face was a look of dissimulation and craft that repelled even
more than Atlano’s sensual expression. In a flash Hellen understood.
“Ah,” thought he, “Oltis hath aims beyond this temple. Can it be that he
pandereth to Atlano with the view to be king himself? That royal robe
meaneth much!”
While Oltis stood gazing at the people, and receiving with unconcern
their dissatisfied looks, a great stir was heard in the entrance hall.
As this increased, every eye that could turned to the portal, to behold
there entering—Queen Atlana with her ladies, whilst Azu himself held up
her long purple train!
At this most unusual appearance, the audience went wild—smiling, waving
their hands, bursting into enthusiastic cries. The Atlanteans loved
their queen, and her long absence from worship had been wondered at and
deplored. Her vacant chair had been a protest of which they had not felt
free to speak. But now all must be right, as she was coming back. So
they went wild of their delight.
The astonished king had arisen. Oltis stood fixed and staring. Queen
Atlana, crowned, clad in purple and gold, and ablaze with jewels, slowly
advanced—the people joyfully giving way—until she had come nigh the
king. With her ladies’ assistance she mounted the few steps of the dais;
and sank into the chair she had been wont to occupy at the side of the
king, but which now was placed toward the edge of the dais. Then her
ladies formed about her, and, following her example, bent in prayer.
Intense had grown the quiet. They were as spellbound, waiting for the
queen to raise her head. When she did, it was to look toward the king.
But his face was averted. Then her glance was toward the priests.
Breathlessly watched the people. How would she accept the high priest’s
latest profanity?
Her eye was quick to distinguish Oltis in his royal robing. And she
started violently. For this the people were prepared. But the olden
spirit of Atlantis stirred within them, when, accepting to the full his
intent, she arose and stared at him, astounded!
Despite himself, Oltis’ eyes fell beneath hers. This encouraged the
awakening islanders, who began to murmur rebelliously, even to hiss.
Yes, it had come to this—a high priest of Atlantis was suffering
indignity in the temple, and from its worshipers!
Shuddering, the queen again looked toward the king, to meet his scornful
smile. This smile the people beheld, and further, the grand manner in
which the queen drew herself up and questioned with her eloquent eyes.
In their appreciation, they burst forth into their favorite cry of “All
dear is Queen Atlana!” but at once hushed upon perceiving the baleful
looks the king was casting at her.
Mute of their rage, they began to sway tumultuously, vengefully: then
made as if they would array themselves about her as she tottered, and
leaned upon the Lady Rica. And the ensuing mutterings grew into
imprecations.
At this serious moment, diversion occurred. The door leading to the
inner sanctuary opened, admitting a figure taller than any in that
assemblage, and of such majesty that the surging crowd quieted, and a
few cried out in awe:
“The ‘Silent Priest’! The ‘Silent Priest’!”
The ‘Silent Priest’ bowing in grand, yet benign manner, advanced until
almost beside Oltis; then, facing the people, signed that the murmurings
must cease, and the ceremonies continue. Most graceful and significant
were his gestures: and even Atlano and Oltis followed them as if
charmed.
As to Queen Atlana, her amazement was supreme. Never had she seen this
priest, though much had she wondered over his mysterious advent upon the
island, and what such presence meant. Thus she stood transfixed.
Rarely had the ‘Silent Priest’ appeared at the services. Yet, among the
people, it was already whispered that, since his coming, things had
changed for the better. Fewer were the animal offerings, and no
handmaids had been forced into the inner sanctuary. Now it was plain
that he exercised some subtle force not only upon the subordinate
priests, but even upon King Atlano and the high priest as these were
regarding him in reverence, in subservience.
When the king and queen were seated, the ‘Silent Priest’ went before the
altar, there to raise his eyes and move his lips in prayer. But no sound
came forth, for the ‘Silent Priest’ was voiceless. But such were his
magnetism and expression that king, queen, priests and people followed
him in awe, and partly comprehending.
When his prayer was finished, he went from the altar, a little to one
side, and stood absorbed.
Then Oltis moved before the altar, and signed to the handmaids. These
began to sing in such fashion that the people listened, enthralled. Soon
they were gliding about the statues of Poseidon and Cleito, and in and
out among the Nereids, still singing. To Hellen, knowing what he did, it
was unbearable to listen to the sweet voices, and watch the graceful
movements of these beautiful, innocent, perhaps doomed young girls, each
wearing so charmingly her robe of filmy white, her garland of purest
lilies.
As they moved about Poseidon, they threw in his chariot their bunches of
flowers, so that quickly he was standing amid heaping floral tributes.
And Cleito was not neglected, for each took off the garland running from
shoulder to waist, to lay it about her, after stooping to kiss her hand.
And, oh, the grace of it all!
Quite a while did this last, to the delight of the beholders. After the
handmaids had again resumed their places, all grew grave, for the time
had come when Oltis was to deliver the speech eulogistic of Poseidon.
He stood up high before them in front of the altar, and his haughty
tones rang out:
“Gracious King, Gracious Queen, Priests, Nobles, People: another year
hath brought plenty upon Atlantis. Another year have the gods smiled:
another year have they breathed into our minds their will. And, this
day, as a year since, yea, as thousands of years since, we meet to joy
in the festival of our Father Poseidon, and to plead for his further
favor. I, his high priest, though far from worthy—”
Here was most fearful interruption. From the statue of Poseidon emanated
a groan; and then it flung at Oltis this.
“Why art thou far from worthy?”
Oltis shrank back, mute, and gazed in horror at the statue. The people,
screaming in terror, fell against each other. The king and queen started
to their feet, and stood rigid.
But Oltis, with greatest effort, rallied. In loud, though shaking tones,
he continued:
“I call myself far from worthy, because with the years I the better know
my failings, my evil turnings—”
“Is thy new robe an evil turning?” was now spoken abruptly by a powerful
voice at the rear of the assemblage.
There was a simultaneous looking backward to discover this speaker.
Oltis stared in the same direction, paling even to his lips. Fearful was
the hush that followed. At length, he desperately resumed:
“On this day so promising—”
But paused to gaze, petrified, at the people, who were reflecting his
stony horror.
Far off, beneath the waters, was beginning a loud, menacing rumbling! It
was approaching the island! On—on—it was coming—even to beneath their
feet! Was the sea pouring into the bowels of the earth?
As they stood dazed, the massive walls began to shake violently,
threatening to fall inward—the accompaniment to the earth now quivering
fast beneath—that earth they had deemed so solid, so stable!
With the cry of panic, the islanders began to rush upon each other, no
purpose in their movements. Great loss of life would have resulted had
not the silver gong sounded imperatively.
The frantic people turned to see it held by the ‘Silent Priest,’ who was
still standing in his place with mien undaunted. He returned their
agonized looks by smiles; then gesticulated that the worst was over.
Indeed, the earth was already quieting. Next, he pointed to Queen
Atlana, as if beseeching their consideration. They looked to perceive
her fainting in the arms of the Lady Rica. Then they calmed.
The oscillations had ceased. Atlano, haggard and trembling, signed that
the queen must be taken out. Accordingly, she was placed in a chair and
borne by some of the nobles to her chariot, the people looking on mute,
motionless.
But when she had been borne out, they began to hasten after her, with no
regard for the benediction Oltis was endeavoring to mutter. When king
and priests alone remained, these, by one accord, speeded to their
respective passages, thence to escape into the air. Surely such a
convulsion must have direfully disfigured the face of nature.
But without, all was bright, serene, unchanged. Not a stone had fallen.
But—what did it mean? Never within the island’s existence, had there
been any evidence of the earth’s instability. And it was Poseidon’s
Festival Day! Was there warning in this?