(I suppose we must adapt our language to our altitude)
sit all the gods.
Their eyes are turned downwards; intently they search every corner of
the earth; is there nowhere a fire to be seen, or the steam of burnt-
offerings
... in eddying clouds upborne?
If a sacrifice is going forward, all mouths are open to feast upon the
smoke; like flies they settle on the altar to drink up the trickling
streams of blood. If they are dining at home, nectar and ambrosia is
the bill of fare. In ancient days, mortals have eaten and drunk at
their table. Such were Ixion and Tantalus; but they forgot their
manners, and talked too much. They are paying the penalty for it to
this day; and since then mortals have been excluded from Heaven.
The life of the Gods being such as I have described, our religious
ordinances are in admirable harmony with the divine requirements. Our
first care has been to supply each God with his sacred grove, his holy
hill, and his own peculiar bird or plant. The next step was to assign
them their various sacred cities. Apollo has the freedom of Delphi and
Delos, Athene that of Athens (there is no disputing _her_ nationality);
Hera is an Argive, Rhea a Mygdonian, Aphrodite a Paphian. As for Zeus,
he is a Cretan born and bred—and buried, as any native of that island
will show you. It was a mistake of ours to suppose that Zeus was
dispensing the thunder and the rain and the rest of it;—he has been
lying snugly underground in Crete all this time. As it would never have
done to leave the Gods without a hearth and home, temples were now
erected, and the services of Phidias, Polyclitus, and Praxiteles were
called in to create images in their likeness. Chance glimpses of their
originals (but where obtained I know not) enabled these artists to do
justice to the beard of Zeus, the perpetual youth of Apollo, the down
on Hermes's cheek, Posidon's sea-green hair, and Athene's flashing
eyes; with the result that on entering the temple of Zeus men believe
that they see before them, not Indian ivory, nor gold from a Thracian
mine, but the veritable son of Cronus and Rhea, translated to earth by
the hand of Phidias, with instructions to keep watch over the deserted
plains of Pisa, and content with his lot, if, once in four years, a
spectator of the games can snatch a moment to pay him sacrifice.
And now the altars stand ready; proclamation has been made, and
lustration duly performed. The victims are accordingly brought
forward—an ox from the plough, a ram or a goat, according as the
worshipper is a farmer, a shepherd, or a goatherd; sometimes it is only
frankincense or a honey cake; nay, a poor man may conciliate the God by
merely kissing his hand. But it is with the priests that we are
concerned. They first make sure that the victim is without blemish, and
worthy of the sacrificial knife; then they crown him with garlands and
lead him to the altar, where he is slaughtered before the God's eyes,
to the broken accompaniment of his own sanctimonious bellowings, most
musical, most melancholy. The delight of the Gods at such a spectacle,
who can doubt?
According to the proclamation, no man shall approach the holy ground
with _unclean hands_. Yet there stands the priest himself, wallowing in
gore; handling his knife like a very Cyclops, drawing out entrails and
heart, sprinkling the altar with blood,—in short, omitting no detail of
his holy office. Finally, he kindles fire, and sets the victim bodily
thereon, sheep or goat, unfleeced, unflayed. A godly steam, and fit for
godly nostrils, rises heavenwards, and drifts to each quarter of the
sky. The Scythian, by the way, will have nothing to do with paltry
cattle: he offers _men_ to Artemis; and the offering is appreciated.
But all this, and all that Assyria, Phrygia, and Lydia can show,
amounts to nothing much. If you would see the Gods in their glory, fit
denizens of Heaven, you must go to Egypt. There you will find that Zeus
has sprouted ram's horns, our old friend Hermes has the muzzle of a
dog, and Pan is perfect goat; ibis, crocodile, ape,—each is a God in
disguise.
And wouldst thou know the truth that lurks herein?
If so, you will find no lack of sages and scribes and shaven priests to
inform you (after expulsion of the _profanum vulgus_) how, when the
Giants and their other enemies rose against them, the Gods fled to
Egypt to hide themselves, and there took the form of goat and ram, of
bird and reptile, which forms they preserve to this day. Of all this
they have documentary evidence, dating from thousands of years back,
stored up in their temples. Their sacrifices differ from others only in
this respect, that they go into mourning for the victim, slaying him
first, and beating their breasts for grief afterwards, and (in some
parts) burying him as soon as he is killed. When their great god Apis
dies, off comes every man's hair, however much he values himself on it;
though he had the purple lock of Nisus, it would make no difference: he
must show a sad crown on the occasion, if he die for it. It is as the
result of an election that each succeeding Apis leaves his pasture for
the temple; his superior beauty and majestic bearing prove that he is
something more than bull.
On such absurdities as these, such vulgar credulity, remonstrance would
be thrown away; a Heraclitus would best meet the case, or a Democritus;
for the ignorance of these men is as laughable as their folly is
deplorable.