Tantalus

by F. C. S. Schiller

I determined, however, to confirm this intelligent forecast by consulting Tantalus himself. To consult the oracle of a dead hero, it was, I knew, only necessary to undergo the process of ‘incubation,’ a sort of camping out on his tomb, in the skin of a sacrificial beast; and fortunately the tomb of Tantalus had just been discovered in Phrygia by the archæologists of the British School at Athens.

I set out, therefore, with great promptitude, and in due course, arrived at the ruins of the tomb of Tantalus. They did not much resemble a first-class hotel, and, of course, my idea of an ‘incubation’ was well laughed at, but I managed to find a pretty level corner, more or less sheltered from the wind. Here I wrapped myself up in my excellent rug, having decided to dispense with the more correct method of ensconcing myself in the gory hide of a sacrificial ox. The night was fine, though cold, and fortunately there were no mosquitoes, nor any of the other insects one would inevitably have encountered in the dwellings of the living. But the ground was very, very, hard, and I tossed about for hours, regretting my classical education and the psychical researcher’s rashness in trying foolish experiments.

At last I fell asleep, at least I suppose so. I also fell a great deal further. I seemed to go right through my rocky bed, and to fall down, down, down, interminably, through a sort of elastic space. When at last the not wholly unpleasant motion stopped, I found myself in a vast, grey, sandy plain, illuminated by a cold grey light as though of dawn. The only thing to catch the eye was a small round hummock, not very far from me. On it grew a mighty tree, with dark green pointed leaves and drooping branches, surrounded by a gleaming white fence or paling. I naturally walked towards it.

As I got near, I noticed that the white paling, which completely enclosed the hummock, was composed of bones, or rather of every imaginable sort of spine, tooth and sting, garnished with the saws and swords of sawfish and swordfish, and all knit together into an impenetrable cheval de frise that prevented approach to the foot of the tree. The soil all round this strange hedge had apparently been trodden into deep mud by some creature that had walked round and round the tree, and the water required for its manufacture was supplied by a small spring which rose within the enclosure and flowed out through its interstices.

As I walked round the tree to the further side of the hummock, I came upon an extraordinary sight. I beheld a naked man trying to reach some of the fruit that dangled down from the outer branches of the tree but appeared to be just out of his reach, and so intent upon his design that he did not notice my approach. He seemed a tall man, and the upper part of his body was well formed. His features were good and regular, though somewhat hard, and not intellectual; his resolute jaw bespoke the man of action, accustomed to command and to be obeyed. So far, his appearance would have done credit to any modern captain of industry. But the lower half of his body appeared to be misshapen. His thighs were so curved that he could not walk upright, but had to stoop and lean forward as he slowly shambled along. Still more monstrous seemed the feet, with which he churned up the mud around the fence; they were enormous and hardly seemed human in their shape, though they were too deeply plunged in the mud to permit one to see what exactly was wrong with them.

This strange being, whom the bold intuition of the dream-consciousness at once identified with Tantalus, was evidently trying to grasp the fruit that hung from the lower branches of the tree. For a while his efforts were vain, but then a gust of wind brought within his reach a large conical shining red fruit he had long coveted. It was one of the strange features of the tree that it was covered with fruit, and higher up also with flowers, of the most various sizes, shapes, and colours. He seized it triumphantly; but the effect was surprising. For he had hardly touched it when it exploded, and covered him from head to foot with its blood-red juice. He at once sank senseless to the ground. But, after a while, he slowly recovered, and recommenced his old game. This time, he attacked a large round yellowish fruit; but when he succeeded in seizing it, it too exploded, and poured out upon him volumes of a heavy yellow-green vapour. Again he collapsed, and this time his stupor lasted longer.

By the time he began to stir again I had, I thought, grasped the situation, and determined to intervene. So I drew near, and addressed him: “Can I be mistaken in thinking that I see before me the far-famed hero, Tantalus, boon companion of the gods?” “And their victim.” “And what tree is this, I pray you, about which you busy yourself?” “The Tree of Knowledge.” “And the water, which you have trampled into mud, is what?” “The Elixir of Life.” “Then you seem to have all the materials for a happy life. Why don’t you eat of the fruits of the tree, and drink of the elixir?” “You have seen the results of my efforts.” “I cannot but think you have been unfortunate in your choice of the fruits: there are many that look much better higher up.” “And how am I to get at them?” “Well, of course, you must break through all these debris of former animal life, which bar your access to the trunk of the tree, and prevent you from drinking of the water of life; after that, you can climb up the tree, and pick the best of the fruits.” “And how am I to break through the barrier of bones?” “Even though you appear to have no instruments, you can surely find a stone?” “Where shall I find a stone in the Plain of Forgetfulness? And besides, how should I climb the tree with these ... feet?” And he lifted up one of his monstrous limbs. “Certainly you seem to be pretty badly earth-bound,” said I, “but I will try to find you some stones.”

So off I set. I had not got far when a fierce blast struck me and peppered me with sand. I struggled stoutly against it, but was nearly choked. And then, suddenly, I awoke to find that day was dawning and that the wind had gone round to the north, and was blowing in my face. But I was well satisfied with my experiment. The interpretation of the response I had obtained from Tantalus was too plain to need the aid of a psycho-analyst.

I

Our best prophets are growing very anxious about our future. They are afraid we are getting to know too much, and are likely to use our knowledge to commit suicide, or rather, mutual murder, after the fashion of the Kilkenny cats.