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[Illustration: BRANCH OFFICE OF MAMMON & CO.]
OLYMPIAN NIGHTS
by
JOHN KENDRICK BANGS
Author of "A House-Boat on the Styx"
"The Pursuit of the House-Boat"
"The Enchanted Type-writer"
Etc. Etc.
[Illustration]
New York and London
Harper & Brothers Publishers
1902
HARPER & BROTHERS.
Published June, 1902.
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. I REACH MOUNT OLYMPUS 1
II. I SEEK SHELTER AND FIND IT 17
III. THE ELEVATOR BOY 33
IV. I SUMMON A VALET 53
V. THE OLYMPIAN LINKS 70
VI. IN THE DINING-ROOM 88
VII. AESCULAPIUS, M.D. 110
VIII. AT THE ZOO 131
IX. SOME ACCOUNT OF THE PALACE OF JUPITER 155
X. AN EXTRAORDINARY INTERVIEW 175
XI. A ROYAL OUTING 192
XII. I AM DISMISSED 212
ILLUSTRATIONS
BRANCH OFFICE OF MAMMON & CO. _Frontispiece_
HIPPOPOPOLIS EXPLAINS _Facing p._ 8
A DREAM OF BRIGANDAGE " 22
IN THE ELEVATOR " 30
"'THE GODDESS OF THE MOTHER-IN-LAW'" " 42
"ANYTHING COULD BE GOT FOR THE RINGING" " 60
"JUPITER HURLED A THUNDER-BOLT AT HIM" " 64
THE OLYMPIAN LINKS " 84
CARING FOR THE CALVES " 104
"'THEN YOU MUST DIE'" " 112
I VISIT AESCULAPIUS " 118
CALLISTO " 140
I MEET THE PH[OE]NIX " 150
"'THE CHAMPIONSHIP OF THE UNIVERSE'" " 166
"THE DOOR WAS LOCKED" " 180
"'WHAT?' I CRIED. 'I--THAT OLD MAN--WE'" " 190
OLYMPIAN NIGHTS
I
I Reach Mount Olympus
While travelling through the classic realms of Greece some years ago,
sincerely desirous of discovering the lurking-place of a certain war
which the newspapers of my own country were describing with some
vividness, I chanced upon the base of the far-famed Mount Olympus.
Night was coming on apace and I was tired, having been led during the
day upon a wild-goose chase by my guide, who had assured me that he
had definitely located the scene of hostilities between the Greeks
and the Turks. He had promised that for a consideration I should
witness a conflict between the contending armies which in its
sanguinary aspects should surpass anything the world had yet known.
Whether or not it so happened that the armies had been booked for a
public exhibition elsewhere, unknown to the talented bandit who was
acting as my courier, I am not aware, but, as the event transpired,
the search was futile, and another day was wasted. Most annoying, too,
was the fact that I dared not manifest the impatience which I
naturally felt. I am not remarkable as a specimen of the strong man;
quite the reverse indeed, for, while I am by no means a weakling, I am
no adept in the fistic art. Hence, when my guide, Hippopopolis by
name, as the sun sank behind the western hills, informed me that I
was again to be disappointed, the fact that he stands six feet two in
his stockings, when he wears them, and has a pleasing way of bending
crowbars as a pastime, led me to conceal the irritation which I felt.
"It's all right, Hippopopolis," I said, swallowing my wrath. "It's all
right. We've had a good bit of exercise, anyhow, and that, after all,
is the chief desideratum to a man of a sedentary occupation. How many
miles have we walked?"
"Oh, about forty-three," he said, calmly. "A short distance, your
Excellency."
"Very--very short," said I, rubbing my aching calves. "In my own
country I make a practice of walking at least a hundred every day.
It's quite a pleasing stroll from my home in New York over to
Philadelphia and back. I hope I shall be able to show it you some
day."
"It will be altogether charming, Excellency," said he. "Shall
we--ah--walk back to Athens now, or would you prefer to rest here for
the night?"
"I--I guess I'll stay here, Hippopopolis," I replied. "This seems to
be a very comfortable sort of a mountain in front of us, and the air
is soft. Suppose we rest in the soothing shade for the night? It would
be quite an adventure."
"As your Excellency wishes," he replied, tossing a bowlder into the
air and catching it with ease as it came down. "It is not often done,
but it is for you to say."
"What mountain is it, Hippopopolis?" I asked, turning and gazing at
the eminence before us.
"It is Mount Olympus," he answered.
"What?" I cried. "Not the home of the gods?"
"The very same, your Excellency," he acquiesced. "At least, that is
the report. It is commonly stated hereabouts that the god-trust has
its headquarters here. As for myself, I have explored its every nook
and cranny, but I never saw any gods on it. It's my private opinion
that they've moved away; though there be those who claim that it is
still occupied by the former rulers of destiny living incog. like
other well-born rogues who desire to avoid notoriety."
Hippopopolis is a decided democrat in his views, and has less respect
for the King than he has for the peasant.
"I shouldn't call them rogues exactly," I ventured. "Some of 'em were
a pretty respectable lot. There was Apollo and old Jupiter himself,
and--"
"Oh, you can't tell me anything about them," retorted Hippopopolis. "I
haven't been born and bred in this country for nothing, your
Excellency. They were a bad lot all through. Shall I prepare your
supper?"
"If you please, Hippopopolis," said I, throwing myself down beneath a
huge tree and giving myself up to the reveries of the moment. I did
not deem it well to interpose too strongly between Hippopopolis and
his views of the immortals just then. He had always a glitter in his
eye when any one ventured to controvert his assertions which made a
debate with him a thing to be apprehended. Still, I did not exactly
like to yield, for, to tell the truth, the Olympian folk have always
interested me hugely, and, while I would not of course endorse any one
of them for a high public trust in these days, I have admired them for
their many remarkable qualities.
"Of course," said I, reverting to the question a few moments later, as
Hippopopolis opened a box of sardines and set the bread a-toasting on
the fire he had made. "Of course, I should not venture to say that I,
a stranger, know as much about the private habits of the gods as do
you, who have been their neighbor; but that they are rogues is news to
me."
"That may be, too," said Hippopopolis. "People are often thought more
of by strangers than by their own fellow-townsmen. Even you, sir, I
might suspect, who are by these simple Greeks supposed to be a sort of
reigning sovereign in your own country, are not at home, perhaps, so
large a hill of potatoes. So with Jupiter and Apollo and Mercury, and
the ladies of the court. I haven't a doubt that in the United States
you think Jupiter a remarkably great man, and Apollo a musician, and
Mercury a gentleman of some business capacity, but we Greeks know
better. And as for the ladies--hum--well, your Excellency, they are
not received. They are too bold and pushing. They lack the
refinements, and as for their beauty and accomplishments--"
Hippopopolis here indulged in a gesture which betokened excessive
scorn of the beauty and accomplishments of the ladies of Olympus.
"You have never seen these people, Hippopopolis?" I asked.
"I have been spared that necessity," said he, "but I know all about
them, and I assert to you upon my honor as a courier and the best
guide in the Archipelago that Jupiter is the worst old _roue_ a
country ever had saddled upon it; Apollo's music would drive you mad
and make you welcome a xylophone duet; and as for Mercury's business
capacity, that is merely a capacity for getting away from his
creditors. Why shouldn't a man wax rich if, after floating a thousand
bogus corporations, selling the stock at par and putting the money
into his own pocket, he could unfold his wings and fly off into the
empyrean, leaving his stock and bond holders to mourn their loss?"
[Illustration: HIPPOPOPOLIS EXPLAINS]
"Excuse me, Hippopopolis," I put in, interrupting him fearlessly for
the moment, "pray don't try to deceive me by any such statement as
that. I don't know very much, but I know something about Mercury, and
when you say he puts other people's money into his pockets, I am in a
position to prove otherwise. From five years of age up to the present
time I have been brought up in a home where a bronze statue of
Mercury, said to be the most perfect resemblance in all the statuary
of the world, classic or otherwise, has been the most conspicuous
ornament. At ten I could reproduce on paper with my pencil every line,
every shade, every curve, every movement of the effigy in so far as
my artistic talent would permit, and I know that Mercury not only had
no pocket, but wore no garments in which even so little as a change
pocket could have been concealed. Wherefore there must be some mistake
about your charge."
Hippopopolis laughed.
"Humph!" he said. "It is very evident that you people over the sea
have very superficial notions of things here. When Mercury posed for
that statue, like most of you people who have your photographs taken,
he posed in full evening dress. That is why there is so little of it
in evidence. But in his business suit, Mercury is a very different
sort of a person. Even in Olympus he'd have been ruled off the stock
exchange if he'd ventured to appear there as scantily attired as he is
in most of his statuary appearances. You certainly are not so green as
to suppose that that suit he wears in his statues is the whole extent
of his wardrobe?"
"I had supposed so," I confessed. "It's a trifle unconventional; but,
then, he's one of the gods, and, I presumed, could dress as he
pleased. Your gods are independent, I should imagine, of the mere
decrees of fashion."
"The more exalted one's position, the greater the sartorial
obligation," retorted Hippopopolis, who, for a Greek and a guide, had,
as will be seen, a vocabulary of most remarkable range. "Just as it
happens that our King here, like H. R. H. the Prince of Wales, has to
be provided with seven hundred and sixty-eight suits of clothes so as
to be properly clad at the variety of functions he is required to
grace, so does a god have to be provided with a wardrobe of rare
quality and extent. For drawing-room tables, mantel-pieces, and
pedestals, otherwise for statuary, Mercury can go about clad in just
about half as much stuff as it would require to cover a fairly sized
sofa-cushion and not arouse drastic criticism; but when he goes to
business he is as well provided with pockets as any other speculator."
"Another idol shattered!" I cried, in mock grief. "But Apollo,
Hippopopolis--Apollo! Do not tell me he is not a virtuoso of rare
technique on the lyre!"
"His technique is more than rare," sneered Hippopopolis. "It is
excessively raw. It has been said by men who have heard both that Nero
of Hades can do more to move an audience with his fiddle with two
strings broken and his bow wrist sprained than Apollo can do with the
aid of his lyre and a special dispensation of divine inspiration from
Zeus himself."
"There are various ways of moving audiences, Hippopopolis," I
ventured. "Now Nero, I should say, could move an audience--out of the
hall--in a very few moments. In fact, I have always believed that that
is why he fiddled when Rome was burning: so that people would run out
of the city limits before they perished."
"It's a very droll view," laughed Hippopopolis, "and I dare say holds
much of the truth; but Nero's faulty execution is not proof of
Apollo's virtuosity. For a woodland musicale given by the Dryads, say,
to their friends, the squirrels and moles and wild-cats, and other
denizens of the forest, Apollo will suffice. The musical taste of a
kangaroo might find the strumming of his lyre by Apollo to its liking,
but for cultivated people who know a crescendo andante-arpeggio from
the staccato tones of a penny whistle, he is inadequate."
"You speak as if you had heard the god," said I.
"I have not," retorted Hippopopolis, "but I have heard playing by
people, generally beginners, of whom the rural press has said that
he--or more often she--has the touch of an Apollo, and, if that is
true, as are all things we read in the newspapers, particularly the
rural papers, which are not so sophisticated as to lie, then Apollo
would better not attempt to play at one of our Athenian Courier
Association Smokers. I venture to assert that if he did he would have
to be carried home with a bandage about his brow instead of a laurel,
and his cherished lyre would become but a memory."
I turned sadly to my supper. I had found the mundane things of Greece
disappointing enough, but my sorrow over Hippopopolis's expert
testimony as to the shortcoming of the gods was overwhelming. It was
to be expected that the country would fall into a decadent state
sooner or later, but that the Olympians themselves were not all that
they were cracked up to be by the mythologies had never suggested
itself to me. As a result of my courier's words, I lapsed into a moody
silence, which by eight o'clock developed into an irresistible desire
to sleep.
"I'll take a nap, Hippopopolis," said I, rolling my coat into a bundle
and placing it under my head. "You will, I trust, be good enough to
stand guard lest some of these gods you have mentioned come and pick
my pockets?" I added, satirically.
"I will see that the gods do not rob you," he returned, dryly, with a
slight emphasis on the word "gods," the significance of which I did
not at the moment take in, but which later developments made all too
clear.
Three minutes later I slept soundly.
At ten o'clock, about, I awoke with a start. The fire was out and I
was alone. Hippopopolis had disappeared and with him had gone my
watch, the contents of my pocket-book, my letter of credit, and
everything of value I had with me, with the exception of my
shirt-studs, which, I presume, would have gone also had they not been
fastened to me in such a way that, in getting them, Hippopopolis would
have had to wake me up.
To add to my plight, the rain was pouring down in torrents.
II
I Seek Shelter and Find It
"This is a fine piece of business," I said to myself, springing to my
feet. And then I called as loudly as my lungs would permit for
Hippopopolis. It was really exhilarating to do so. The name lends
itself so readily to a sonorous effect. The hills fairly echoed and
re-echoed with the name, but no answer came, and finally I gave up in
disgust, seeking meanwhile the very inadequate shelter of a tree, to
keep the rain off. A more woe-begone picture never presented itself, I
am convinced. I was chilled through, shivering in the dampness of the
night, a steady stream of water pouring upon and drenching my
clothing, void of property of an available nature, and lost in a
strange land. To make matters worse, I was familiar only with classic
Greek, which language is utterly unknown in those parts to-day, being
spoken only by the professors of the American school at Athens and the
war correspondents of the New York Sunday newspapers--a fact, by the
way, which probably accounts for the latter's unfamiliarity with
classic English. It is too much in these times to expect a man to
speak or write more than one language at a time. Even if I survived
the exposure of the night, a horrid death by starvation stared me in
the face, since I had no means of conveying to any one who might
appear the idea that I was hungry.
Still, if starvation was to be my lot, I preferred to starve dryly
and warmly; so, deserting the tree which was now rather worse as a
refuge than no refuge at all, since the limbs began to trickle forth
steady streams of water, which, by some accursed miracle of choice,
seemed to consider the back of my neck their inevitable destination, I
started in to explore as best I could in the uncanny light of the
night for some more sheltered nook. Feeling, too, that, having robbed
me, Hippopopolis would become an extremely unpleasant person to
encounter in my unarmed and exhausted state, I made my way up the
mountainside, rather than down into the valley, where my inconsiderate
guide was probably even then engaged in squandering my hard-earned
wealth, in company with the peasants of that locality, who see real
money so seldom that they ask no unpleasant questions as to whence it
has come when they do see it.
"Under the circumstances," thought I, "I sincerely hope that the paths
of Hippopopolis and myself may lie as wide as the poles apart. If so
be we do again tread the same path, I trust I shall see him in time to
be able to ignore his presence."
With this reflection I made my way with difficulty up the side of
Olympus. Several times it seemed to me that I had found the spot
wherein I might lie until the sun should rise, but quite as often an
inconsiderate leak overhead through the leaves of the trees, or an
undiscovered crack in the rocks above me, sent me travelling upon my
way. Physical endurance has its limits, however, and at the end of a
two hours' climb, wellnigh exhausted, I staggered into an opening
between two walls of rock, and fell almost fainting to the ground.
The falling rain revived me, and on my hands and knees I crawled
farther in, and, to my great delight, shortly found myself in a
high-ceiled cavern, safe from the storm, a place in which one might
starve comfortably, if so be one had to pass through that trying
ordeal.
"He might have left me my flask," I groaned as I thought over the pint
of warming liquid which Hippopopolis had taken from me. It was of a
particular sort, and I liked it whether I was thirsty or not. "If he'd
only left me that, he might have had my letter of credit, and no
questions asked. These Greeks are apparently not aware that there is
consideration even among thieves."
Huddling myself together, I tried to get warm after the fashion of the
small boy when he jumps into his cold-sheeted bed on a winter's night,
a process which makes his legs warm the upper part of his body, and
_vice versa_. It was moderately successful. If I could have wrung the
water out of my clothes, it might have been wholly so. Still, matters
began to look more cheerful, and I was about to drop off into a doze,
when at the far end of the cavern, where all had hitherto been black
as night, there suddenly burst forth a tremendous flood of light.
"Humph!" thought I, as the rays pierced through the blackness of the
cavern even to where I lay shivering. "I'm in for it now. In all
probability I have stumbled upon a bandits' cave."
Pleasing visions of the ways of bandits began to flit through my mind.
"In all likelihood," thought I, "there are seventeen of them. As I
have read my fiction, there are invariably seventeen bandits to a
band. It's like sixteen ounces to the pound, or three feet to the
yard, or fifty-three cents to the dollar. It never varies. What hope
have I to escape unharmed from seventeen bandits, even though five of
them are discontented--as is always the case in books--and are ready
to betray their chief to the enemy? I am the enemy, of course, but
I'll be hanged if I wish the chief betrayed into my hands. He could
probably thrash me single-handed. My hands are full anyhow, whether I
get the chief or not."
[Illustration: A DREAM OF BRIGANDAGE]
My heart sank into my boots; but as these were very wet, it promptly
returned to my throat, where it had rested ever since Hippopopolis had
deserted me. My heart is a very sane sort of an organ. I gazed towards
the light intently, expecting to see dark figures of murderous mould
loom up before me, but in this I was agreeably disappointed. Nothing
of the sort happened, and I grew easier in my mind, although my
curiosity was by no means appeased.
"I know what I will do," I said to myself. "I'll make friends with the
chief himself. That's the best plan. If he is responsive, my family
will be spared the necessity of receiving one of my ears by mail with
a delicate request for $20,000 ransom, accompanied by a P. S.
enclosing the other ear to emphasize the importance of the
complication."
By way of diversion, let me say here that, while slicing off the
victim's ear is a staple situation among novelists who write of
bandits, in all my experience with bandits--and I have known a
thousand, most of 'em in Wall Street--I have never known it done, and
I challenge those who write of South European highway-robbers to
produce any evidence to prove that the habit is prevalent. The idea
is, on the face of it, invalid. The ears of mankind, despite certain
differences which are acknowledged, are, after all, very much alike.
The point that differentiates one ear from another is the angle at
which it is set from the head. The angle, according to the most
scientific students of the organ of hearing, is the basis of the
estimate of the individual. Therefore, to convince the wealthy persons
at home that large sums of money are expected of them to preserve the
life of the father of the family, the truly expert bandit must send
something besides the ear itself, which, when cut off, has no angle
whatsoever. If I, who am no bandit, and who have not studied the art
of the banditti, may make a suggestion which may prove valuable to the
highwaymen of Italy and Greece, the only sure method of identifying
the individual lies in the cutting off of the head of the victim, by
which means alone the identity of the person to be ransomed may be
settled beyond all question. As one who has suffered, I will say that
I would not send a check for $20,000 to a bandit on the testimony of
one ear any more than I would lend a man ten dollars on his own
representation as to the meals he had not had, the drinks he wanted,
or the date upon which he would pay it back.
All these ideas flashed across my mind as I lay there worn in spirit
and chilled to the bone. At last, however, after a considerable
effort, I gathered myself together and resolved to investigate. I rose
up, stood uncertainly on my feet, and was about to make my way towards
the sources of the unexpected light, when a dark figure rushed past
me. I tried to speak to it.
"Hello, there!" said I, hoping to gain its attention and ask its
advice, since it came into the cavern in that breezy fashion which
betokens familiarity with surroundings. The being, whatever it really
was, and I was soon to find this out, turned a scornful and really
majestic face upon me, as much as to say, "Who are you that should
thus address a god?" The rushing thing wore a crown and flowing robes.
Likewise it had a gray beard and an air of power which made me, a mere
mortal, seem weak even in my own estimation. Furthermore, there was a
divine atmosphere following in his wake. It suggested the most
brilliant of brilliantine.
"Here," he cried as he passed. "I haven't time to listen to your
story, but here is my card. I have no change about me. Call upon me
to-morrow and I will attend to your needs."
The card fluttered to my side, and, not being a mendicant, I paid
little attention to it, preferring to watch this fast-disappearing
figure until I should see whither it was going. Arriving at the far
end of the cavern, the hurrying figure stopped and apparently pushed a
button at the side of the wall. Immediately an iron door, which I had
not before perceived, was pushed aside. The dark figure disappeared
into what seemed to be a well-lighted elevator, and was promptly
lifted out of sight. All became dark again, and I was frankly puzzled.
This was a situation beyond my ken. What it could mean I could not
surmise, and in the hope of finding a clew to the mystery I groped
about in the darkness for the card which the hurried individual had
cast at me with his words of encouragement. Ultimately I found it, but
was unable to decipher its inscription, if perchance it had one.
Nevertheless, I managed to keep my spirits up. This, I think, was a
Herculean task, considering the darkness and my extreme lonesomeness.
I can be happy under adverse circumstances, if only I have congenial
company. But to lie alone, in a black cavern, prey only to the
thoughts of my environment, thoughts suggesting all things apart from
life, thoughts which send the mind over the past a thousand centuries
removed--these are not comforting, and these were the only thoughts
vouchsafed to me.
A half-hour was thus passed in the darkness, and then the light
appeared again, and I resolved, though little strength was left to me,
to seek out its source. I stood up and staggered towards it, and as I
drew nearer observed that the illumination came from nothing more nor
less than an elevator at the bottom of a shaft, the magnitude of
which I could not, of course, at the moment determine.
The boy in charge was a pretty little chap, and, if I may so state it,
was absolutely unclad, but about his shoulders was slung a strap which
in turn held a leathern bag, which, to my eyes, suggested a golf-bag
more than anything else, except that it was filled with arrows instead
of golf-clubs.
"How do you do?" said I, politely. "Whose caddy are you?"
"Very well," said the little lad. "Not much to brag of, however.
Merely bobbish, pretty bobbish. In answer to your second question, I
take pleasure in informing you," he added, "that I am everybody's
caddy."
"You are--the elevator boy?" I queried, with some hesitation.
"That is my present position," said he.
"And, ah, whither do you elevate, my lad?"
[Illustration: IN THE ELEVATOR]
"Up!" said he, after the manner of one who does not wish to commit
himself, like most elevator boys. "But whom do you wish to see?" he
demanded, trying hard to frown and succeeding only in making a
ludicrous exhibition of himself.
Frankly, I did not know, but under the impulse of the moment I handed
out the card which the stranger had thrown to me.
"I forget the gentleman's name," said I, "but here is his card. He
asked me to call."
The elevator boy glanced at it, and his manner immediately changed.
"Oh, indeed. Very well, sir," he said. "I'll take you up right away.
Step lively, please."
I stepped into the elevator, and the lad turned a wheel which set us
upon our upward journey at once.
"I am sorry to have been so rude to you, sir," said the boy. "I
didn't really know you were a friend of his."
"Of whom?" I demanded.
"The old man himself," he replied, with which he handed me back the
card I had given him, upon reading which I ascertained the name of the
individual who had rushed past me so unceremoniously.
The card was this:
+--------------------------------+
| |
| |
| |
| MR. JUPITER JOVE ZEUS |
| |
| MOUNT OLYMPUS |
| GREECE |
+--------------------------------+
"Top floor, sir," said the elevator boy, obsequiously.
III
The Elevator Boy
"Known the old man long, sir?" queried the boy as we ascended.
"By reputation," said I.
"Humph!" said the lad. "Can't have a very good opinion of him, then.
It's a good thing you are going to have a little personal experience
with him. He's not a bad lot, after all. Rotten things said of him,
but then--you know, eh?"
"Oh, as for that," said I, "I don't think his reputation is so
dreadful. To be sure, there have been one or two little indiscretions
connected with his past, and at times he has seemed a bit vindictive
in chucking thunder-bolts at his enemies, but, on the whole, I fancy
he's behaved himself pretty well."
"True," said the boy. "And then you've got to take his bringing-up
into consideration. Things which would be altogether wrong in the son
of a Presbyterian clergyman would not be unbecoming in a descendant of
old Father Time. Jupiter is, after all, a self-made immortal, and the
fact that his parents, old Mr. and Mrs. Cronos, let him grow up sort
of wild, naturally left its impress on his character."
"Of course," said I, somewhat amused to hear the Thunderer's character
analyzed by a mere infant. "But how about yourself, my laddie? Are you
anybody in particular? You look like a cherub."
"Some folks call me Dan," said the boy, "and I _am_ somebody in
particular. Fact is, sir, if it hadn't been for me there wouldn't
have been anybody in particular anywhere. I'm Cupid, sir, God of Love,
favorite son of Venus, at your service."
"And husband of the delectable Psyche?" I cried, recalling certain
facts I had learned. "You look awfully young to be married."
"Hum--well, I was, and I am, but we've separated," the boy replied,
with a note of sadness in his voice. "She was a very nice little
person, that Psyche--one of the best ever, I assure you--but she was
too much of a butterfly to be the perpetual confidante of a person
charged with such important matters as I am. Besides, she didn't get
on with mother."
"Seems to me that I have heard that Madame Venus did not approve of
the match," I vouchsafed.
"No. She didn't from the start," said Cupid. "Psyche was too pretty,
and ma rather wanted to corner all the feminine beauty in our family;
but I had my way in the end. I generally do," the little chap added,
with a chuckle.
"But the separation, my dear boy?" I put in. "I am awfully sorry to
hear of that. I, in common with most mortals, supposed that the
marriage was idyllic."
"It was," said Cupid, "and therefore not practical enough to be a good
investment. You see, sir, there was a time when the love affairs of
the universe were intrusted to my care. Lovers everywhere came to me
to confide their woes, and I was doing a great business. Everybody was
pleased with my way of conducting my department. I seemed to have a
special genius for managing a love affair. Even persons who were
opposed to the administration conceded that the Under Secretary of
Home Affairs--myself--was assured of a cabinet office for life,
whatever party was in power. If Pluto had been able to get elected,
the force of public opinion would have kept me in office. Then I
married, myself, and things changed. Like a dutiful husband, I had no
secrets from my wife. I couldn't have had if I had wanted to. Psyche's
curiosity was a close second to Pandora's, and, if she wanted to know
anything, there was never any peace in the family until she found out
all about it. Still, I didn't wish to have any secrets from her. As a
scientific expert in Love, I knew that the surest basis of a lasting
happiness lay in mutual confidence. Hence, I told Psyche all I knew,
and it got her into trouble right away."
"She--ah--couldn't keep a secret?" I asked.
"At first she could," said Cupid. "That was the cause of the first
row between her and Venus. Mother got mad as a hatter with her one
morning after breakfast because Psyche _could_ keep a secret. There
was a little affair on between Jupiter and a certain person whose name
I shall not mention, and I had charge of it. Of course, I told Psyche
all about it, and in some way known only to woman she managed to
convey to Venus the notion that she knew all about it, but couldn't
tell, and, still further, wouldn't tell. I'd gone down-town to
business, leaving everything peaceful and happy, but when I got back
to luncheon--Great Chaos, it was awful! The two ladies were not on
speaking terms, and I had to put on a fur overcoat to keep from
freezing to death in the atmosphere that had arisen between them. It
was six inches below zero--and the way those two would sniff and sneer
at each other was a caution."
"I quite understand the situation," I said, sympathetically.
"No doubt," said Cupid. "You can also possibly understand how a
quarrel between the only two women you ever loved could incapacitate
you for your duties. For ten days after that I was simply incapable of
directing the love affairs of the universe properly. Persons I'd
designed for each other were given to others, and a great deal of
unhappiness resulted. There were nine thousand six hundred and
seventy-six divorces as the result of that week's work. It's a
terrible situation for a well-meaning chap to have to decide between
his wife and his mother."
"Never had it," said I; "but I can imagine it."
"Don't think you can," sighed Cupid. "There are situations in real
life, sir, which surpass the wildest flights of the imagination. That
is why truth is stranger than fiction. However," he added, his face
brightening, "it was a useful experience to me in my professional
work. I learned for the first time that when a mother-in-law comes in
at the door, intending to remain indefinitely, love flies out at the
window. Or, as Solomon--I believe it was Solomon. He wrote Proverbs,
did he not?"
"Yes," said I. "He and Josh Billings."
"Well," vouchsafed Cupid, "I can't swear as to the authorship of the
proverb, but some proverbialist said 'Two is company and three is a
crowd.' I'd never known that before, but I learned it then, and began
to stay away from home a little myself, so that we should not be
crowded."
I commended the young man for his philosophy.
"Nevertheless, my dear Dan," I added, "you ought to be more
autocratic. Knowing that two is company and three otherwise, you have
been guilty of allowing many a young couple who have trusted in you to
begin house-keeping with an inevitable third person. We see it every
day among the mortals."
"What has been good enough for me, sir," the boy returned, with a
comical assumption of sternness--he looked so like a fat baby of three
just ready for his bath--"is good enough for mortals. When I married
Psyche, I brought her home to my mother's house, and for some nineteen
thousand years we lived together. If Love can stand it, mortals must."
"Excuse me," said I, apologetically. "I have not suffered. However, in
all my study of you mythologians, it has never occurred to me before
this that Venus was the goddess of the mother-in-law."
"You mustn't blame me for that," said Cupid, dryly. "I'm the god of
Love; wisdom is out of my province. For what you don't know and
haven't learned you must blame Pallas, who is our Superintendent of
Public Instruction. She knows it all--and she got it darned easy, too.
She sprang forth from the head of Jove with a Ph.D. already conferred
upon her. She looks after the education of the world. I don't--but
I'll wager you anything you please to put up that man gains more real
experience under my management than he does from Athena's department,
useful as her work is."
I could not but admit the truth of all that the boy said, and of
course I told him so. To change the subject, which, if pursued, might
lead to an exposure of my own ignorance, I said:
"But, Dan, what interests me most, and pains me most as well, is to
hear that you are separated from Psyche. I do not wish to seem
inquisitive on the subject of a--ah--of a man's family affairs"--I
hesitated in my speech because he seemed such a baby and it was
difficult to take him seriously, as is always the way with Love,
unless we are directly involved--"but you have told me of the
separation, and as a man, a newspaper-man, I am interested. Couldn't
you reconcile your mother, Madame Venus, to Psyche--or, rather, Mrs.
Dan?"
[Illustration: "'THE GODDESS OF THE MOTHER-IN-LAW'"]
"Not for a moment," replied the boy. "Not for a millionth part of a
tenth of a quarter of a second by a stop-watch. Their irreconcilability
was copper-fastened, and I found myself compelled to choose between
them. My mother developed a gray hair the day after the first trouble,
and my wife began to go out to afternoon teas and sewing-circles and
dances. The teas and dances were all right. You can't talk at either.
But the sewing-circle was ruin. At this particular time the circle was
engaged in making winter garments for the children of the mother of
the Gracchi. I presume that as a student and as a father you realize
all that this meant. You also know that a sewing-circle needs four
things: first, an object; second, a needle and thread; third, a
garment; fourth, a subject for conversation. These things are
constitutionally required, and Psyche joined what she called 'The
Immortal Dorcas.' The result was that all Olympus and half of Hades
were shortly acquainted with the confidential workings of my
department--all told under the inviolate bond of secrecy, however,
which requires that each member confided in shall not communicate what
she has heard to more--or to less--than ten people."
"I know," said I. "The Dorcas habit has followers among my own
people."
"But see where it placed me!" cried the little creature. "There was
me, or I--I don't know whether Greek or English is preferable to
you--charged with the love affairs of the universe. Confiding all I
knew, like a dutiful husband, to my wife, and having her letting it
all out to the public through the society. Why, my dear fellow, it
wasn't long before the immortals began to accuse me of being in the
pay of the Sunday newspapers, and you must know as well as anybody
else that Love has nothing to do with them. Even the affairs of my
sovereign began to creep out, and innuendoes connecting Jupiter with
people prominent in society were printed in the opposition organs."
"Poor chap!" said I, sympathetically. "I did not realize that you had
to contend against the Sunday-newspaper nuisance as we mortals have."
"We have," he said, quickly, almost resignedly; "and they are ruining
even Olympus itself. Still, I made a stand. Told Psyche she talked too
much, and from that time on confided in her no more."
"And how did she take it?" I asked.
"She declined to take it at all," said Cupid, with a sigh. "She
demanded that I should tell her everything on penalty of losing
her--and I lost her. She left me a little over a thousand years ago,
and my mother for the same reason sent me adrift fifteen hundred or
more years ago. That is why I am eking out a living running an
elevator," he added, sadly. "Still, I'm happy here. I go up when I
feel sad, and go down when I feel glad. On the whole, I am as happy as
any of the gods."
"However, Dan," I cried, sympathetically, slapping him on the back,
"you have your official position, and that will keep you in--ah--well,
you don't seem to need 'em, but it would keep you in clothes if you
could be persuaded to wear them."
"No," said the little elevator boy, sadly. "I don't want 'em in this
climate--nor are they necessary in any other. All over the world, my
dear fellow, _true_ love is ever warm."
There was a decided interval. I felt sorry for the little lad who had
been a god and who had become an elevator boy, so I said to him:
"Never mind, Danny, you are sure of your office always."
"I wish it were so," said he, sadly. "But really, sir, it isn't. You
may think that love rules all things nowadays, but that is a fallacy.
Of late years a rival concern has sprung up. I have found my office
subjected to a most annoying competition which has attracted away from
me a large number of my closest followers. In the days when we
acknowledged ourselves to be purely heathen, love was regarded with
respect, but now all that is changed. Opposite my office in the
government building there is a matrimonial corporation doing a very
large business, by which the fees of my position are greatly reduced.
Possibly after you have had your audience with Jove to-morrow you will
take a turn about the city, in which event you will see this trust's
big brazen sign. You can't miss it if you walk along Mercury Avenue.
It reads:
+----------------------------------+
| MAMMON & CO. |
| Matchmakers |
| |
| FORTUNES GUARANTEED: |
| HAPPINESS EXTRA |
| |
| GEO. W. MAMMON |
| President |
| |
| HORACE GREED |
| Gen'l Manager |
| |
| BRANCH OFFICE |
| 67 Gehenna Ave., Hades |
+----------------------------------+
"Dear me!" I cried. "Poor Love!"
"I don't need your sympathy," said the boy, quickly, drawing himself
up proudly. "It can't last, this competition. Man and god kind will
soon see the difference in the permanence of our respective output.
This is only a temporary success they are having, and it often happens
that the spurious articles put forth by Mammon & Company are brought
over to me to be repaired. My sun will dawn again. You can't put out
the fires in my furnaces as long as men and women are made from the
old receipt."
Here the elevator stopped, and a rather attractive young woman
appeared at the door.
"Here is where you get out, sir," said the elevator boy.
"You are Mr.----" began the girl.
"I am," I replied.
"I have orders to show you to number 609," she said. "The proprietor
will see you to-morrow at eleven."
"Thank you very much," I replied, somewhat overcome by the cordiality
of my reception. It is not often that mere beggars are so hospitably
received.
"Good-night, Cupid," I added, turning to the little chap in the
elevator. "I trust we shall meet again."
"Oh, I guess we will," he replied, with a wink at the maid. "I
generally do meet most men two or three times in their lives. So _au
revoir_ to you. Treat the gentleman well, Hebe," he concluded, pulling
the rope to send the elevator back. "He doesn't know much, but he is
sympathetic."
"I will, Danny, for your sake," said the little maid, archly.
The boy laughed and the car faded from sight. Hebe, even more lovely
than has been claimed, with a charmingly demure glance at my costume,
which was wofully bedraggled and wet, said:
"This way, sir. I will have your luggage sent to your room at once."
"But I haven't any luggage, my dear," said I. "I have only what is on
my back."
"Ah, but you have," she replied, sweetly. "The proprietor has attended
to that. There are five trunks, a hat-box, and a Gladstone bag already
on their way up."
And with this she showed me into a magnificent apartment, and, even
as she had said, within five minutes my luggage arrived, a valet
appeared, unpacked the trunks and bag, brushed off the hat that had
lain in the hat-box, and vanished, leaving me to my own reflections.
Surely Olympus was a great place, where one who appeared in the guise
of a beggar was treated like a regiment of prodigal sons, furnished
with a gorgeous apartment, and supplied with a wardrobe that would
have aroused the envy of a reigning sovereign.
IV
I Summon a Valet
The room to which I was assigned was regal in its magnificence, and
yet comfortable. Few modern hotels afforded anything like it, and,
tired as I was, I could not venture to rest until I had investigated
it and its contents thoroughly. It was, I should say, about twenty by
thirty feet in its dimensions, and lighted by a soft, mellow glow that
sprang forth from all parts without any visible source of supply. At
the far end was a huge window, before which were drawn portieres of
rich material in most graceful folds. Pulling these to one side, so
that I might see what the outlook from the window might be, I
staggered back appalled at the infinite grandeur of what lay before my
eyes. It seemed as if all space were there, and yet within the compass
of my vision. Planets which to my eye had hitherto been but twinkling
specks of light in the blackness of the heavens became peopled worlds,
which I could see in detail and recognize. Mars with its canals,
Saturn with its rings--all were there before me, seemingly within
reach of my outstretched hand. The world in which I lived appeared to
have been removed from the middle distance, and those things which had
rested beyond the ken of the mortal mind brought to my very feet, to
be seen and touched and comprehended.
Then I threw the window open, and all was changed. The distant
objects faded, and a beautiful golden city greeted my eyes--the city
of Olympus, in which I was to pass so many happy hours. For the
instant I was puzzled. Why at one moment the treasures of the universe
of space had greeted my vision, and how all that had faded and the
immediate surroundings of a celestial city lay before me, were not
easy to understand. I drew back and closed the window again, and at
once all became clear; the window-glass held the magic properties of
the magnifying-lens, developed to an intensity which annihilated all
space, and I began to see that the development of mortals in
scientific matters was puny beside that of the gods in whose hands lay
all the secrets of the universe, although the principles involved were
in our full possession.
The situation overwhelmed me somewhat, and I drew the portieres
together again. The feelings that came over me were similar to those
that come to one standing on the edge of a great precipice gazing
downward into the vast, black depths yawning at his feet. The
giddiness that once, many years before, came upon me as I stood on the
brink of the Niagaran cataract, which seemed irresistibly impelling me
to join the mad rush of the waters, surged over me again, and I forced
myself backward into the room, shutting out the sight, lest I should
cast myself forth into the infinite space beyond. I threw myself down
upon a couch and covered my eyes with my hands and tried to realize
the situation. I was drunk with awe at all that was about me, and
should, I think, have gone mad trying to comprehend its grandeur, had
not my spirit been soothed by soft strains of music that now fell upon
my ears.
I opened my eyes to discover whence the sounds had come, and even as
the light streamed from unknown and unseen sources, so it was with the
harmonies which followed, harmonies surpassing in beauty and swelling
glory anything I had ever heard before.
And to these magnificent but soft and soothing strains I yielded
myself up and slept. How long my sleep continued I have no means of
knowing. It seemed to last but an instant, but when I opened my eyes
once more I felt absolutely renewed in body and in spirit. The damp
garments which I had worn when I fell back upon the couch had in some
wise been removed, and when I stood up to indulge in the usual
stretching of my limbs I found myself clad in an immaculate flowing
robe of white, soft of texture, fastened at the neck with a jewelled
brooch, and at the waist its fulness restrained by a girdle of gold.
Furthermore, I had apparently been put through a process of ablution
which left me with the cockles of my heart as warm as toast, and my
whole being permeated with a glow of health which I had not known for
many years. The aches in my bones, which I had feared on waking to
find intensified, were gone; and if I could have retained permanently
the aspect of vigor and beauty which was returned to me by the mirror
when I stood before it, I should be in imminent danger of becoming
conceited.
"I wonder," said I, as I gazed at myself in the mirror, "if this is
the correct costume for breakfast. It's a slight drawback to know
nothing of the customs of the locality in which you find yourself.
Possibly an investigation of my new wardrobe will help me to decide."
I looked over the rich garments which had been provided, and found
nothing which, according to my simple bringing up, suggested the idea
that it was a good thing to wear at the morning meal.
"They ought to send me a valet," I murmured. "Perhaps they will if I
ring for one. Where the deuce is the bell, I wonder?"
A search of the room soon divulged the resting-place of this desirable
adjunct to the tourist's comfort. The dial system which has proved so
successful in American hotels was in vogue here, except that it
manifested a willingness on the part of the proprietor to provide the
guest with a range of articles utterly beyond anything to be found in
the purely mundane caravansary. I found that anything under the canopy
that the mind of man could conceive of could be had by the mere
pushing of a button. The disk of the electrical apparatus was divided
off into many sections, calling respectively for saddle-horses,
symphony concerts, ocean steamships, bath-towels, stenographers;
cocktails of all sorts, and some sorts of which I had never before
heard, and all of which I resolved to try in discreet sequence;
manicures, chiropodists, astrologers, prophets, clergymen of all
denominations, plots for novelists--indeed, anything that any person
in any station of life might chance to desire could be got for the
ringing.
My immediate need, however, was for a valet. Puzzled as to the manners
and customs of the gods, I did not wish to make a bad appearance in
the dining-room in a costume which should not be appropriate. I did
think of ordering breakfast served in my room, but that seemed a very
mortal and not a particularly godlike thing to do. Hence, I rang for a
valet.
[Illustration: "ANYTHING COULD BE GOT FOR THE RINGING"]
"I will tell him to get out my morning-suit, and no doubt he will
select the thing I ought to wear," I said as I pressed the button.
The response was instant. My fingers had hardly left the button when a
superb creature stood before me. Whence he sprang I do not know. There
were no opening of doors, no traps or false panels, that I could see.
The individual simply materialized.
"At your service, sir," said he, with a graceful obeisance.
"Pardon me," I replied, overcome once more by what was going on.
"I--ah--think there must be some mistake. I--ah--I didn't ring for a
god, I rang for a valet."