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Page 93
CONFESSOR. Hadn't I prepared you for the fact that the way to the
white house up there would be long and difficult.
STRANGER. I don't deny it. How far have we come?
CONFESSOR. Five hundred yards. We've still got fifteen hundred.
STRANGER. But where's the sun?
CONFESSOR. Up there, above the clouds. ...
STRANGER. Then we shall have to go through them?
CONFESSOR. Yes. Of course.
STRANGER. What are those patients doing there? What a company! And
why are their hands so red?
CONFESSOR. For both our sakes I want to avoid using impure words,
so I'll speak in pleasant riddles, which you, as a writer, will
understand.
STRANGER. Yes. Speak beautifully. There's so much that's ugly here.
CONFESSOR. You may have noticed that the signs given to the planets
correspond with those of certain metals? Good! Then you'll have
seen that Venus is represented by a mirror. This mirror was
originally made of copper, so that copper was called Venus and bore
her stamp. But now the reverse of Venus' mirror is covered with
quicksilver or mercury!
STRANGER. The reverse of Venus ... is Mercury. Oh!
CONFESSOR. Quicksilver is therefore the reverse side of Venus.
Quicksilver is itself as bright as a calm sea, as a lake at the
height of summer; but when mercury meets firestone and burns, it
blushes and turns red like newly-shed blood, like the cloth on the
scaffold, like the cinnabar lips of the whore! Do you understand
now, or not?
STRANGER. Wait a moment! Cinnabar is quicksilver and sulphur.
CONFESSOR. Yes. Mercury must be burnt, if it comes too near to
Venus! Have we said enough now?
STRANGER. So these are sulphur springs?
CONFESSOR. Yes. And the sulphur flames purify or burn everything
rotten! So when the source of life's grown tainted, one is sent to
the sulphur springs. ...
STRANGER. How does the source of life grow tainted?
CONFESSOR. When Aphrodite, born of the pure seafoam, wallows in the
mire. ... When Aphrodite Urania, the heaven-born, degrades herself
to Pandemos, the Venus of the streets.
STRANGER. Why is desire born?
CONFESSOR. Pure desire, to be satisfied; impure, to be stifled.
STRANGER. What is pure, and what impure?
CONFESSOR. Have you got back to that?
STRANGER. Ask these men here. ...
CONFESSOR. Take care! (He looks at the STRANGER, who is unable to
support his gaze.)
STRANGER. You're choking me. ... My chest. ...
CONFESSOR. Yes, I'll steal the air you use to form rebellious
words, and ask outrageous questions. Sit down there, I'll come
back--when you've learnt patience and undergone your probation. But
don't forget that I can hear and see you, and am aware of you,
wherever I may be!
STRANGER. So I'm to be tested! I'm glad to know it!
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