Delphi did not originally belong to Apollo. With the aid of Bacchus, he wrested it from Terra, Neptune, and Themis; hence the name “Delphi,” or “The brothers.” This is only another instance of his independence. All things are made to his hand. The great contrast between Ceres and Apollo lies in the success of each. Ceres is always full, always prepared to meet the call of humanity. Apollo is always unsatisfied. He transmutes whatever he touches, as he did one of his many loves, changed to a bay-tree. His changes are always beautiful.
James F. Clarke asked how Margaret would explain the fraternal relation between Bacchus and Apollo.
“Don’t you remember?” she retorted. “I don’t like to repeat it, it is so smart and ingenious!” Apollo and Bacchus seemed to her the question and the response. Bacchus was what the earth yielded to the touch of Genius. The grape was genial. It typified the excess of the earth’s fruitfulness. Bacchus avenges the wrongs of Apollo, who is said never to have seen a shadow! He never perceives an obstacle, but instantly destroys an alien nature. Whatever opposed Apollo met with terrible retribution,—if not from himself, then from others. Genius cannot endure the presence of anything that mocks at it.
Charles Wheeler said something about the flaying of Marsyas.
Margaret said that this once seemed to her the most shocking of cruelties, but she had lately seen a picture which reconciled her to the deed! After looking at the self-complacent face of Marsyas, she did not wonder that Apollo destroyed him. She longed to see him do it! Apollo was never indignant at any sublime treachery. He forgave Mercury his theft because it was god-like, because he did it so well.
Mrs. Russell said ironically that the destruction of the children of Niobe must have been a gratifying sight.
Margaret laughed, and said, “That is like being reminded of the ‘poor mariner,’ when I say that I like to hear the wind blow.” The indignation of Apollo seemed to her one of his noblest attributes. His perfect purity separated him from all the Gods. Ceres seemed to be included in the idea of many other Gods, as in Pan, Bacchus, Juno, and Isis; but Apollo, the divine Genius, stands alone. There is none like him.
Henry Hedge asked whether holiness appertained to Apollo.
Margaret thought not. Holiness supposed a voluntary consecration of one’s self, but there was no need of this in Apollo. He was pure thought, consecrated, but not consciously.
Henry Hedge said he had asked, because, considering Jesus to have, as he certainly had, a mythological character, he thought there was a resemblance between him and Apollo. His own words justified the idea,—“I am the light of the world,” and so on.