PARTISAN REVIEW
should not have abandoned her, or at any rate not on an island. Pos–
sibly; but I wanted to put the sea between us. She was after me, hunting
me down, marking me for the kill. When she got wind of my ruse, and
detected her sister beneath her brother's clothes, she set up the devil's
own noise, broke into a series of rhythmical screams, upbraided me for
my treachery; and when, in my exasperation, I told her that I did not
intend to take her further than the first island at which the wind, now
suddenly risen, would allow or compel us to make landfall, she threat–
ened me with a long poem which she proposed to write on the subject
of this infamous desertion. I told her at once that she could not do
better: the poem promised to
be
very good, as far as I could judge from
her frenzied and lyrical tones; moreover it would serve as a distraction,
and she would undoubtedly soon find in it the best solace for her grief.
But all this only vexed her the more. Such are women, when one tries
to make them see reason. For my part, I always allow myself to be
guided by an instinct in which, by reason of its greater simplicity, I
have perfect confidence.
The island in question was Naxos. One story has it that, some time
after we had abandoned her, Dionysus went there to join her, and in–
deed married her; all of which may be a way of saying that she found
consolation in drink. People say that on their wedding-day the god
made her a present of a crown, the work of Hephaestus, which now
forms one of the constellations; and that Zeus welcomed her on Olym–
pus and made her immortal. She was even mistaken, they say, for Aphro–
dite. I let people talk; and myself, in order to cut short hostile rumors,
did my best to confirm her divine rank by founding a cult in her honor.
I also went out of my way to be the first to dance my reverences there.
May I be allowed to remark that, but for my desertion, she would have
enjoyed none of these great advantages?
Certain imaginary incidents have enriched the mythology of my
person: the abduction of Helen, the descent into Hell with Pirithous,
the rape of Proserpine. I took care never to deny these rumors, for they
all enhanced my prestige. I even improved upon some of them, in order
to confirm the people in beliefs which they are all too inclined, in Attica,
to discard. Popular emancipation is a good thing; irreverence quite
another.
The truth is that after my return to Athens I remained faithful
to Phaedra. I took both the woman and the city for my bride. I was
a husband, and the son of a dead king: I was a king. My days of ad–
venture are over, I used to repeat to myself; where I had sought to
conquer, I now sought to rule.
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