A TARSIAN FESTIVAL TO APOLLO
The morning was bright; and a light, cool breeze from the Taurus mountains
swept down the valley of the Cydnus, bathing the city of Tarsus with its
freshness. The sun had just risen, and was beginning to quaff his fill of
mist and dew, and to kiss with a golden sheen the towers, roofs, sails,
and masts of the Cilician metropolis. But though the hour was yet early,
the city was already astir. Buyers and sellers in the open markets by the
city gates were scattered in little groups, and chaffered over their
traffic with the easy air of Oriental contentment. The streets and lanes
wore a more busy aspect than was wont; and the number of people in festal
costumes, hurrying to and fro with garlands and palm‐branches in their
hands, betokened a general holiday.
“As sweet and musical
As bright Apollo’s lute, strung with his hair;
And when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods
Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony.”
It was the most important of the festivals of Apollo, and was celebrated
annually by a grand procession to the chief temple of the city; followed
by sacrifices, priestly rites and ceremonies, oracular messages and
predictions, sorcery and soothsaying, ending at night, with orgies which
characterized the Oriental city of the period.
The main temple with its oracle, consecrated to the gods of Tarsus, was
situated in the midst of a large garden in the extreme northwestern, or
most elevated part of the city. It commanded a charming view of the
beautiful Cydnus for nearly its whole length, as it wound its way, like a
silver thread, through the plain in its course from the distant mountains
to the sea. The ground about the temple was tastefully laid out with
walks, vine‐clad summer‐houses, fountains, grottos, groups of sycamore and
palm trees, and at short intervals adorned with statues, vases, and other
creations of Greek art and handiwork.
The blossoms of the bending branches of spicy plants loaded the air with
sweet odors, which held the visitor in the delicate bonds of a subtile
enchantment. The oleander and jasmine, rose and lilac, tulip and lily,
each lent its charm to the chorus of beauty and exhalation. Bounteous
Nature was drawn upon to the utmost for rich contributions to consecrate
Apollo’s great temple‐garden, and enhance its mystical fascination.
In threading one’s way through this sensuous paradise, one would often
find himself at the entrance of some graceful booth, where a priest or
priestess of Apollo would dispense love‐philtres, or be inquired of
concerning the misty future, peradventure to its complete unveiling.
The temple itself was built of Parian marble, and surrounded by a porch,
with a row of lofty Corinthian columns in front, and a corresponding
peristyle, surmounted by an entablature, stretching out from either side.
The pediments were richly covered with designs in _alto‐rilievo_. Among
them were representations of Apollo, Diana, the setting sun, Hercules
slaying the Hydra, Dionysus and a Giant, Fauns, Bacchantes, and triumphal
processions. In the _pronaos_, or vestibule, there was a series of broad
panels, upon which were inscribed maxims from the Seven Sages of Greece.
Beyond the vestibule, on either side were two overflowing fountains, each
surrounded with statues of Triton, Neptune, Amphitrite, Apollo slaying the
great serpent Pytho, with other gods, goddesses, Nymphs, and Dryads.
Invalids who drank of a certain fountain, or bathed in it, and were
healed, threw pieces of money into it as a recompense. In the back part of
the _cella_ was the great hearth with the perpetual fire; and in the
_adytum_, or inner shrine, were the sacred tripod and other mysteries of
the sanctum. Below this was a subterranean chamber, from the sacred
recesses of which ascended the vapor of prophecy.
The oracular messages were often conveyed by dreams, preceding which,
fasting was customary, followed by sacrifices, and sleeping upon the skin
of the animal which had been offered. Other auguries were received in
writing, sometimes by means of the “descending pencil” which hung
suspended, and wrote by invisible, though intelligent and fateful impulse.
Sealed communications on parchment also received answers from occult and
mysterious sources.
Magic, prophecy, and oracular deliverances were not peculiar to the great
Oracle at Delphi, but common in the less noted temples of other cities.
The offices of priest and soothsayer were blended. The favor and guidance
of the gods were invoked upon every undertaking, and through sacrifice and
propitiation offered their friendly aid was bestowed. Nothing was
undertaken without their sanction, whether going to war, engaging in
business, or making love. The healing of invalids, augury, and the
interpretation of visions, were not only legal and ethical, but they
formed an integral part of religion.
To the modern student of mental phenomena it is interesting to look back
upon the multiform manifestations of mind in the past. Under the reign of
polytheism, everything—including even the inner psychological forces that
are common to all—was deified. Each phenomenon was due to the action of
some “god.” But after all, when we get below the surface of things, is the
change a very radical one? The “god,” with them, is some divine orderly
law with us. Either term involves the idea of a force which is more or
less mysterious. They were destitute of the understanding of the inherent
unity and inter‐relation of all things, and consequently each phenomenon
was disconnected from its relations, and directly credited to a special
deity. There was no idea of a great comprehensive Unit. The universe of
mind and matter was a fragmentary mass. Its various factions were presided
over by deities who were often warring against each other. The great
modern inspiration is, not only cosmic oneness, but universality of law.
Even the monotheism of the Jew was largely mechanical and incongruous.
Law as all pervading with the latest refinement—its unvarying beneficence,
when correctly interpreted—furnishes the key which will resolve age‐long
mysteries. With the present understanding of the creative power of mental
states, and the potency of thought, even when set in motion by motives of
pure superstition, much of the remarkable phenomena of the past can be
interpreted and rendered congruous. The prophecies, oracular messages,
healings, divinations, soothsaying, and other “miraculous” transactions of
history, though doubtless often exaggerated, have an important basis of
truth. They are in accord with the legitimate or illegitimate use of laws
now measurably understood. As we become increasingly aware of the
possibilities of hypnotism, telepathy, the sub‐conscious mind, suggestion,
psychical development, and spiritualistic experiences, the strange things
of both ancient and later times are seen to be natural and explainable.
The so‐called “supernatural” was just what might have been expected under
the known conditions. There was no suspension of universal law, but only
the orderly result of real forces which exist in man, even though often
unrecognized and misused.
Under both the Gentile and Jewish economies, there was an endless mass of
occurrences, attributed to special deific intervention, but all belong to
the realm of the one Divine unchangeable and universal order. This has
never been suspended and never will be, for God does not contradict
himself. Prophets and priests could perform “wonderful works” through the
medium of principles which they could not define. Miraculous colorings are
always in the eyes of the beholder. Human equipment, which has had much
unintelligent employment, is now clearly interpreted.
But withal, it may be questioned, whether it be not better to attribute
too much to “the gods” than—like some moderns—to become so coldly agnostic
and _pseudo_‐scientific as to deny everything which is above the plane of
the material and sensuous.
“The gods favored thee, fair lady.”
These words were addressed to Rebecca, the daughter of Benoni.
She turned to see from whence they came.
“Say not the gods, my good woman, but the God of Israel.”
Rebecca and her father were returning from the morning service of the
synagogue, and had halted for a moment to make some trifling purchase at a
small bazaar. Rebecca observed that the woman who had spoken, and who
seemed to be an assistant in the bazaar, was surveying her with unwonted
interest.
“What would’st thou?” said the Jewish maiden.
“Forgive me, but thy sweet face brings a terrible vision before me. Thou
hast not forgotten the _palace_ and the _storm_?”
The scene of two years before flashed upon her. A shudder ran through her
frame. Her color fled, and for a brief moment she again lived over the
tragic experience. But waving aside the hideous recollection, she quickly
commanded herself, and greeted Chloe with a warm salutation, and then
turning to her father, said,—
“O my father! this is the woman who led our way out of the lion’s den.”
“The blessing of the God of The Chosen People be upon thee,” said Benoni.
“His thunderbolts and your good guidance gave me back my scions. Art thou
yet a slave?”
“Alas! I am still in bondage.”
“I will pay thy ransom; and, if thou wilt, thou shalt serve in my house
for liberal hire.”
Chloe fell on her knees, and with tears of gratitude thanked her kind
benefactor in the name of all the gods, but was again reminded of the
Hebrew Jehovah.
Just then the distant echoes of cymbals, trumpets, and songs, which
betokened the coming of the great festal procession, fell upon the ears of
the trio. It was manifest that its line of march was to be directly
through the street into which the portal of the bazaar opened, where they
were standing. Casting their eyes down the long vista toward the
approaching column, they were spellbound by its grandeur as it threaded
its way with slow elastic rhythm through the crowded thoroughfare. It was
on its joyous march to the garden and temple of Apollo.
Benoni was first to break the silence.
“Verily, the heathen rage and imagine a vain thing, but the enemies of the
Lord shall yet be sore vexed.”
Soon the thud of hoofs and the rumble of wheels betokened a company of
charioteers which composed the advance division of the pageant. Each
chariot was richly decorated with chaplets and ribbons, and drawn by three
horses abreast, of the same color, all gorgeously caparisoned.
The charioteers were chanting a chorus:—
“Since life’s so short, we’ll live to laugh.
Ah! wherefore waste a minute!
If youth’s the cup we yet can quaff,
Be love the pearl within it!”
Near the front, and abreast of each other, were two charioteers who merit
a description somewhat more in detail. The prancing steeds driven by one
were snowy white, and those of the other jet black. The driver of the
latter was tall and erect, with head thrown back, long black curly hair,
dark complexion, strong face, Roman nose, and a physical organization
which might be the envy of an athlete. His head was bare, with the
exception of a wreath of myrtle, likewise his throat, arms, and legs below
the knee. His tunic was of crimson fabric, woven of silk, gathered by a
girdle of gold chain, and clasped in front by an elaborate jewelled
ornament.
The other was more delicate in complexion, with wavy brown hair, dark blue
eyes, and refined features of the Grecian cast. A chaplet of laurel
encircled his brow, his throat and arms were bare, and an easy
gracefulness characterized every movement. The skirt of his belted tunic,
of soft white woollen fabric, dropped to the knee, and was decorated with
a border of gold embroidery. The throat, arms, and legs, where exposed,
had a pearly whiteness which betokened a perfect service of baths, oils,
and polishing. He was lighter in build and less stern in demeanor than his
companion, and there was a sparkle in his eyes which certified to a warm
and poetic temperament. They had arrived at a point just opposite where
the three were standing, when Chloe gave a start, and turning, grasped the
arm of Rebecca.
“See! see! It is”—
But the fair Jewess recognized them at the same moment, and quickly turned
her back upon the cruel faces of hateful recollection.