Louis Couperus

“ Are these the fore-spheres of the farthest sphere . . . .? Is that the way through circles to . . . . the . . . .? Chimera, I see forms, I see the people of light!! O Chimera! Chimera!! They are beckoning us, they are waving to us! I see two of them: a form of majesty, and another, near him, of love! O Chimera! I know them!! That is my father, and that . . . . O joy, O joy! . . . . that is Eros! Eros! Quicker, Chimera annihilate the space which separates us; speed on, ply your wings faster away, away! Oh, faster, Chimera! Can you not go faster? You fly too slowly for me! You fly too slowly!! ”

“ Alone! you will leave me alone in a sandy desert, in nothing but sand, sand in the night, with a single tree and a handful of water! Alone! O Chimera, you cannot do that . . . .! For I love you; I adore you with all my soul, and shall die of grief and tears, Chimera, if you fly away from me! I love you; I worship your golden eyes, your voice of bronze, your steaming breath, your panting flanks, your mane, to which I bound myself, your flaming wings, which carried me far, farther and farther . . . . to this place . . . .! O Chimera, lay down your smoking limbs in the shadow of the night ”

“ It was a sea of nothing but flame, pitch-black flame, a sea of jet-black fire, fire and flame, that waved from the horizon, where a single streak of pale light appeared. In the black flames burned the shades, in the black flames wound the hydras in and out; the thick smoke shot up into the clouds, and the clouds sent it back again. . . .
“Spirits in the pitch-black flames, where shall I find the Jewel for Emeralda . . . .???”
“Vanity, vanity . . . . !”
The hurricane kept blowing, the plaintive viol kept trembling, and ever sounded the same note, the unchangeable answer. ”

“ Everything happens as it happens. Everything is as it is. Everything goes to dust; into the pits of the Past, into the power of Emeralda. . . . Now become a spider like us, weave your web, and be wise. . . .”
Psyche got up.
“No . . . .!” she exclaimed, “I will not become a spider, I will weave no web. I have sinned, but I will weave no web; I have sinned and will do penance. The world is awful—desert and wood and space; life is awful—love and pain, joy and despair, sin and punishment. And if fate is as it is, it is in vain to weave a web and to heap up treasures of dust. ”

“ Emeralda laughed scornfully aside with one of her court-ladies. She did not find him a king, that plain youth in his plain dress. But Eros had now approached and bowed low before the mighty monarch, and the latter bade him welcome with fatherly condescension. Then spoke the prince:
“Mighty Majesty of the Past, accept my respectful thanks for your welcome. Diffident I come to your throne, for I am young in years, have little wisdom, little power. You reign over an extensive kingdom, the horizon of which is lost in illimitableness. I reign over a country that is not larger than a garden. ”

“ Is happiness then punished? Is it not good to hope, to trust, and to love? Ought I then to have mistrusted and hated? What do I ask? He no longer hears me! What do I care for the problems of life! Him I love, and in me is nothing but my love and despair, and round me is the desert and the night, and now . . . . now I must die!”
She sobbed, and her tears flowed. She was alone. Around her loomed the night, around her stretched the sands as far as the perceptible horizon. ”

“ Small is my palace and small my garden round it, but greater than the desert and the sky is my great love. O Psyche, come with me now! Then you will suffer cold and hunger and thirst no more, and the grief that your heart now suffers, Psyche, . . . . we will bear together.”
He stretched out his arms. She smiled, tired and pale from weeping, slid from the foot of the Sphinx, and nestled to his heart.
“Eros,” she murmured, “I suffer. I pine. I weep. I gave away all that I had. I have nothing more than my grief. Can grief . . . . be happiness in the Present?” ”

“ Emeralda stretched out her sceptre, on the top of which glowed a star of destroying rays. When she stretched out the sceptre and directed the rays, she scorched monuments, palaces, and parks to a white ash, and, for her cruel jubilant procession, she cut down everything that came in her way. The thick white ashes flew up like dust; the jubilant multitude were scorched; the palaces of jaspar and malachite shrivelled up like burnt paper; the breath of the horses blew away, like ash, the white burnt gardens. And right over everything went Emeralda, scorching as she went. ”

“ Your beauty is dazzling, and to reign with you over the united kingdoms of the Past and the Present, appears to me indeed a divine happiness. . . .”
“For other kingdoms exist not,” added Astra, and the wise men repeated her words.
“Yes,” murmured the king. “There is another kingdom. . . .”
“What kingdom?” asked all.
“The kingdom of the Future,” said the king, in a low tone.
Emeralda laughed scornfully. Astra looked compassionately. The wise men glanced at each other; the courtiers shook their heads. ”

“ The shadow was awful, like that of an awfully great beast. And she kept wiping away her tears, which formed a pool around her, and gazed. . . .
Then she saw. She saw, squatting in the sand, a terribly great beast like a lion, immovable. The beast was as great as a castle, high as a tower; its head reached to the stars. But its head was the head of a woman, slender, enveloped in a basalt veil, which fell down, right and left, along her shoulders. And the woman’s head stood on the breast of a woman, two breasts of a gigantic woman, of basalt. ”

“ More I have not; but I have still my love—my love, great as the heaven and wide as the universe. But he who lives in love so great, needs no greater palace and no greater kingdom to rule over. For the treasures of Emeralda I would not exchange my kingdom and my love. . . . Psyche, my queen, yet I have ornaments for you. The Princess of Nakedness with the wings may never wear jewels of precious stones, and jewels I have not. But pearls, Psyche, I have pearls which Emeralda despises. Pearls, Psyche, I found in your tears of yesterday. ”

“ You are safe here, are you not? and the world is so great, the world is so wicked. The world is full of temptation and mystery. Winged horses soar through the air; gigantic sphinxes lurk in the deserts; devilish fauns roam through the forests. . . . In the world, tears are shed, which form brooks, and in the world people give away their noblest right for the lowest pleasure. . . . Stay with me, Psyche, never wander too far away, for under our castle glows the Netherworld! . . . . And life is like a princess, a cruel princess with a heart of stone. ”

“ Here there are the two girls that play on the pipe and the winged children. I should like to see all that there is in the world, and experience all that is in life. There must be strange things, which I never see. . . . The Chimera was glorious, and deep in my soul I always long for him; but in other respects everything is the same. . . . No wonders take place in this garden. . . . Eros is a young prince; then there are the doves, the griffons, the cupids. . . . That is all so commonplace. . . . Oh, to seek, to wander! The world is so great! the universe is awful, although it has limits. ”

“ It was always the sweet pleasure of flowers and birds, of spring and love, cupids and roses, music and dance. The flowers were more beautiful, and did not fade; the fruits were sweeter and of richer colour; the spring air was lighter, and life was happier than a golden day. It was day which lasted days and nights; it was the Present. If Psyche were alone she longed for Eros, and when she saw him again she spread out her arms, and they loved each other. If Psyche were alone, she wandered about in the rosy spring morning; the flowers bowed down to her ”

“ She no longer cared for the swans, and the swans, neglected, followed her in vain, in the green moats; she forgot to crumble bread for them. And she looked at the clouds and she gazed at the wind, thinking only of him, the light-gold horse with the silver wings, because he came on the wind, on the clouds, which thundered when he struck with his hoofs. ”

“ The nymphs pressed round her and carried her on their arms. She lay down at full length.
“Cool my forehead, cool my cheeks, cool my heart!” she cried imploringly. “Dear nymphs, oh, cool my soul! Everything burns on me and in me; fire scorches my lips, fire scorches my brain. . . . O dear nymphs, cool me!”
The nymphs sprinkled water on her; Psyche put her arm round the neck of one of them.
“Your water-drops hiss on my forehead as on burning metal. Your flakes of foam evaporate on the fire in my breast. And on my soul, O dear nymphs, you cannot sprinkle your coolness!” ”

“ I come from nothingness and I am going to nothingness.”
“What is nothingness?”
“Everything. Nothingness is as far as your brains can think, my little princess; and then still farther, and nothingness is more than all that you see from this high tower. . . .”
“Are you never tired?”
“No, my wings are strong; I can bear all mankind on my back, and I could carry them away to the stars behind the stars.” ”

“ And as she stood before him naked, so immaculately delicate in her princessly nakedness, he threw around her loins a light, thin veil, richly adorned with pearls, and which she fastened in a knot. Then he gave her a mirror, and she beheld herself very beautiful, crowned like a queen, and smiled with contentment.
“Am I a queen?” she said softly. “Am I happy? Eros, do you love me? Is this the happiness of the Present? Eros, do I love you out of gratitude and respect, my husband and my king . . . .?”
He led her gently away, through the porticos, down the crystal steps. ”

“ My lot is to fly through the air, apparently without an object, but yet with an object; and what that is, I do not know.”
“But what then does the Power want? You fly through the air; the spider spins its web; Emeralda reigns over dust; everything is as it is. Oh, life is comfortless! ”

“ The pipe awoke her; on the horizon, the brown face stood out against the sun, and roguishly nodded to her. Psyche, indignant, looked up.
The head rose, the shoulders rose, and the whole form then rose up: a sunburnt youth, with the legs of a goat, rough-haired and cloven hoofs. There he stood, his dark shadow reflected in the golden rays of the setting sun. He blew his reeds; he piped lustily and merrily, roguishly and joyously and as well as he could, to please Psyche. She listened—about her the boys were sleeping—and she smiled. He saw her smile and smiled too. ”

“ Look! now we are going over the sea, now we are approaching the shore, lined with soft mother-of-pearl.”
“The sea is a dirty green, like an ordinary sea; the borders are sand. . . . You are deceiving me, Chimera! As soon as we approach, then you charm away everything that I saw beautiful.”
“Now, under us is the purple desert; under us are the oases of pale emerald.”
“You are deceiving me, Chimera! The desert glows in the strong sun, the oases fade away to nothing, like a meteor. . . . Chimera!”
“What, Psyche?”
“Where are you going?” “To the land, as far off as you can see. . . .” ”

“ And so great was the shadow, so monstrous the beast, that even the triumphal chariot of Emeralda appeared small.
“Sphinx!” said Emeralda, “I will know. I am powerful, but there is power above me. There are spheres above mine, and there are gods above my divinity. There are laws of nature which my sceptre cannot alter. ”

“ Psyche was naked, and she veiled herself in her hair; she spread over the marks on her shoulders her golden mantle of hair, and as many of the dancing girls, some half naked and others quite, danced round, hand in hand, people thought that she was naked, only because she was so fair—Psyche, so pearl-white in her golden hair. She was not wont to be ashamed of nakedness, which was once her right, her privilege as a princess; but now under the eyes of the people she blushed, and walked with downcast eyes. ”

“ Psyche, it is your bounden duty to obey Emeralda’s command. Go down to Hell and seek the Jewel.”
“Chimera, adored one, delight of my soul, oh, your splendour fills my eyes! Your word gives strength to my weakness! I feel it! You may not bear me away; I am unworthy of your wings. But I adore and bless you for coming! Chimera, Chimera, your splendour has beamed once more upon me! your voice has inspired me, and I will do what you say. . . . You let the light of hope break in upon me; new strength flows through my limbs. Chimera, I hope, I hope! I will go down into Hell ”

“ Very gently, so as not to wake her, Psyche rose, and left the terrace. She knew the way. She went through the halls and passages, down the steps, the endless steps. In the corners sat the sacred spiders, and wove. . . .
Psyche went lower down, to the vaults. There burnt the everlasting lamps. She went among the royal tombs, crystal sarcophagi, and found her father’s coffin. By the lamp, which was always kept burning, she recognised his embalmed, rigid face. The eyes were closed. He knew nothing about her: that she had gone away and come back. Death was between them, and severed them forever. ”

“ But because she possessed all the wisdom of the earth, she despised all the world, and she had had constructed on the terrace of her tower a telescope, miles long, through which she could look to every part of the illimitable firmament. And when the sages were gone, and she was alone, then she went on to the terrace and peered through the giant, which she turned to all the points of the compass. Through the diamond lenses, cut without facets, she saw new stars, unknown to men, and gave them names. ”

“ Eros took the flower.
“Psyche has been enticed by the Satyr into the wood. The Bacchantes have taken her away. This was her last word: that she was unworthy of you, and went away praying for forgiveness. . . . She could not remain, she said; she went. . . .! Eros, forgive her!”
The flower shrivelled up in his hand. Eros rose and tottered; he too felt that he was dying.
Sad at heart walked Eros, and all along his path the flowers now lay shrivelled. The brook was dry. The lark lay dead before his feet. The cupids lay dead in the withered roses. ”

“ Psyche stood before the beast. Around her was the night; around her was the sand; above her the diamond, shining stars. Silently shuddering and full of awe, stood Psyche. Then she thought: “It must be she, the Sphinx. . . .”
She wept. Her tears flowed; she stood in the stream of her tears, which, winding along, followed her. And weeping, she lifted up her voice, small in the night the voice of a child that speaks in the illimitable.
“Awful Sphinx,” she said, “make me wise. You know the problem of life. ”

“ The solitary countryman who was coming down the rocky path, did not throw stones at her, but greeted her reverently.
She kept climbing up.
High in the air lay the castle, gloomy and inaccessible, a town of towers, a Babel of pinnacles; along it swept the clouds. As an innocent child, as a naked princess with wings, Psyche had lived there like a butterfly on a rock, had wandered along the dreadful parapets, had longed and hoped and dreamed. Oh! her longings of innocence, her hope to fly through the air to the opal islands, her dreams, pure as the doves that flew round about her . ”

“ In love it is sweet to give and to suffer. Love gives, and love suffers. . . .”
“I have only suffered, but not given,” said Psyche, in a low tone.
“To suffer is to give most. To give to one we love the suffering of his suffering soul, is the greatest gift that can be given, my child and my princess! Try, with the remembrance sacred to Suffering and Love, endured and loved, to be happy in the Present. ”

“ The nymphs filled their stream-urns and poured them over Psyche.
“Pour them all out! Pour them all out!” cried Psyche entreatingly. “But although my hair is dripping, and my wings and my limbs too, my lips are scorched, my poor forehead burns, and within me, O nymphs . . . .! within me, my soul is consumed as in hell-fire. . . .!”
The nymphs took her gently in their arms; they dived with her below, they came up again; they kept diving up and down.
“Oh, bathe me, bathe me!” cried Psyche imploringly. “Benevolent nymphs, bathe me! Some coolness still hangs about my body . . . . ”

“ When Psyche wandered through the castle and suddenly saw Emeralda coming, preceded by pages, torches, shield-bearers, and maidsin-waiting, who bore her train, and a score of halberdiers, then she was struck with fear, and hastily concealed herself behind a door, a curtain, no matter where, and then Emeralda rustled by with a great noise of satin and gold and all the trampling of her retinue, and Psyche’s heart beat loudly like a clock, tick! ”

“ The farthest sun is incomputable, the divine is limitless. Even the nearest frontier of the Future is beyond computation. There is a sea of unfathomable light. . . . O Psyche, I am tired, I am blind, and I shall soon die. In this place, here I will stay. Psyche, look through the telescope. Is the night too dark? Do you see anything?”
“The stars give a dim light.”
“Look through the telescope. What do you see? Tell me, what do you see?”
“In the glass, right at the top, I see a dark spot, which emits a few rays. Is that a black star?”
“No, Psyche, that is a spider. Emeralda has sent a spider. ”

“ You will do penance after all your sins! Emeralda has laid penance on you. . . . To seek the Philosopher’s Stone in the caverns of flaming hell!! O Psyche, the Stone does not exist. The unutterable name is a legend. The Jewel exists only in the pride of man. The universe is limited, the Godhead is not limited; no rays from precious stones can reach the Godhead and rule over God. No looking through lenses of diamond can penetrate the Godhead. It is all pride and vanity. Psyche, there is nothing but resignation. Emeralda is powerful, but more powerful she cannot become. ”

“ But on the days that her beloved horse had come and taken her away with him, carefully flapping his wings, her face shone with golden happiness in the apotheosis of her soul, and through the gloomy halls, where sacred spiders, which were never disturbed, wove their webs, rang Psyche’s high voice, and from the faded gobelin the low vault and the motionless iron knights strangely re-echoed the words of her joyous song. ”

“ Let me do penance for Astra, as I do for Emeralda.”
“No, child, I know no penance. There is nothing but resignation. There is nothing but to wait. Everything else is vanity and pride. But do penance, little Psyche. Penance is illusion, yet illusion is pleasant: illusion ennobles. Believe, poor child, in your penance, believe in your illusion. ”

“ No sigh rustled in the leaves of the trees; no insect hummed in the grass; the flowers hung down withered on their limp stems. A deathly chilliness reigned around. A fearful presentiment took possession of Eros. He walked along the flower-beds, along the brook.
“Oh! where is Psyche?” he cried. “Oh, tell me, water, flowers, birds, where is Psyche!!”
No answer was returned. The brook flowed on murkily and noiselessly, the flowers lay across the path; no bird sang among the leaves. ”

“ Along the battlements, higher than a man, Psyche often wandered, wandered round the castle from tower to tower, from wall to wall, with a dreamy smile on her face, then she looked up and stretched out her hands to the stars, or gazed below at the dashing water, with all the colours of the rainbow, till her head grew dizzy, and she drew back and placed her little hands before her eyes. ”

“ Of precious stone, like Emeralda, thought Psyche to herself. Who rides in triumph with her victorious chariot over the tenderest and dearest, and presses them stone-dead into the deepest furrows of the earth. ”

“ Round the car, close together as a bunch of grapes, sported madly a number of wine-gods, tumbling over one another, grape-drunken children.
In triumph the procession rushed on through the golden wood. The Bacchantes and satyrs sang and danced; two satyrs drove the lynxes, which, spiteful as cats, spat at them; the wine-gods entwined the vine and bore great heavy bunches of grapes.
High up, like a butterfly, which was a goddess, sat Psyche, and laughed with glistening eyes and glowing cheeks, waving to the nymphs.
“Live! long live Psyche—Psyche with the splendid wings!” shouted the nymphs. ”