II
The discovery of the Venus was destined to become a cause of much excitement, perturbation, and even dissension amid the quiet Brotherhood at Périgon. Augustin, the abbot, came out in person to inspect the find, accompanied by many monks who were not engaged at that hour in some special task.
Even the saintly abbot, in spite of his reverend age and rigorous temper, was somewhat discomfited by the peculiar witchery which seemed to emanate from the marble. Sternly he repressed his agitation and gave no sign, other than a deepening of the natural austerity of his demeanor. Curtly he ordered the bringing of ropes, and directed the raising of the Venus from her loamy bed to a standing position on the garden ground beside the hole. In this task, Paul, Pierre and Hughues were assisted by two others.
After making sure that their lovely burden had been set firmly on her pedestal, the five brothers showed a singular inclination to tarry about the Venus. Many others now pressed forward to examine the figure closely; and several were even prompted to touch it, till rebuked for this unseemly action by their superior, who, if he felt a similar impulse, would not sacrifice his holy dignity by yielding to it.
Certain of the elder and more severe Benedictines urged the immediate destruction of the image, which, they argued, was a heathen abomination that defiled the abbey garden by its presence, and therefore should not be countenanced. Others, moved by the evil beauty of the Venus in a manner impossible for them to admit, pleaded furtively and shamefacedly for her preservation. Still others, the most practical, pointed out that the Venus, being a rare and beautiful example of Roman sculpture, might well be sold at a goodly price to some rich and impious art-lover.
Augustin, though he felt that the Venus should be indubitably destroyed as an impure pagan idol, was filled with a queer and unaccountable hesitation which led him to defer the necessary orders for her demolishment. It was as if the subtly wanton loveliness of the marble were pleading for clemency like a living form, with a voice half-human, half-divine. Averting his eyes from the white bosom, he spoke harshly, bidding the Brothers to return to their labors and devotions, and saying that the Venus could remain in the garden till arrangements were made for her ultimate disposition and removal. Pending this, he instructed one of the Brothers to bring sackcloth and drape therewith the unseemly nudity of the goddess.
Even at the time, Augustin was criticized for his peculiar delay and laxness in this matter by some of the deans. During the few years that remained to him, he was to regret bitterly the flash of carnal weakness that had prompted him to defer the destruction of the image.
Contenting himself for the nonce with a severe injunction to the effect that no one should approach the Venus other than those whose labors in the garden should compel an involuntary proximity, Augustin retired with the various Brothers, some of whom, as they went, gave many a backward glance at the life-like charms of the naked goddess. Later, there was much peeping from the cell windows that looked upon the garden; and more than one Brother, caught in this indecorous occupation, was reprimanded austerely by the deans.
However, such peccadillos were trivial indeed, compared with the grave scandal involving a number of the monks, which ensued shortly. Those concerned were Paul, Pierre and Hughues, together with the two who had helped in raising the Venus from her pit, and three others who had also touched the limbs or body of the statue with their fingers.
These eight, it was found, had absented themselves without leave from the monastery during the night that followed the discovery of the Venus. Covertly and shamefastly, several of them returned the next morning; and their fellow-truants straggled in during the day, or were apprehended through rumors and charges that had been brought against them.
All, it was learned, had been guilty of open or furtive lechery. Some had annoyed the peasant women of the neighborhood with satyr-like advances; others had played the incubus with village girls at Ste. Zenobie, or had been seen in houses of ill-fame, many miles away in Ximes.
Summoned before their indignant abbot, these piacular culprits could offer no explanation or defense, other than the plea that they had been driven by an irresistible carnal compulsion. They attributed their downfall to the antique Venus, saying that they had been haunted by lubric thoughts and goaded by lascivious desires such as had tormented Anthony during his desert vigil, ever since the hour when they had touched the flesh-white marble of the statue.
Many of those who had beheld the evil image but had not touched it, now confessed that they had been conscious of like thoughts and impulses; and all agreed that a foul enchantment had been exerted by the Venus. Since only those who had laid hands on the marble were actually driven beyond the bounds of decorum or decency, it was plain that the full power of the diabolic pagan charm was inherent in such contact; and that anyone who dared to handle the Venus henceforth would be in grave danger of perdition.
The whole situation, though supremely scandalous, was so unusual that it could not be dealt with in any ordinary fashion. In view of their sorcerous temptation and demoniac compulsion, the eight offending monks were not expelled from the order, as their heinous lecheries might well have merited, but were merely sentenced to severe and protracted penance.
In the meanwhile, nothing was done with the Venus; for obviously, anyone who ventured to touch it—even, perhaps, with the motive of demolition—would court the baleful witchcraft that had already brought a profound and far-reaching evil on Périgon. It was suggested that some layman (to whom the penalty of heathen madness would be a less serious matter than to those who had taken vows of chastity) should be hired to shatter the idol and remove and bury its fragments. This, no doubt, would have been accomplished in good time, if it had not been for the hasty and fanatic zeal of Brother Louis.
III
This Brother, a youth of good family, was conspicuous among the Benedictines both for his comely face and his austere piety. Handsome as Adonis, he was given to ascetic vigils and prolonged devotions, outdoing in this regard the abbot and the deans.
At the hour of the statue’s disinterment, he was busily engaged in copying a Latin Testament; and neither then nor at any later time had he cared to inspect a find which he considered more than dubious. He had expressed disapprobation on hearing from his fellows the details of the discovery; and feeling that the abbey garden was polluted by the presence of an obscene image, he had purposely avoided all windows through which the womanly nakedness of the antique marble might have been visible to his chaste eyes.
Therefore it was with supreme horror and indignation that he learned of the downfall of the eight Benedictines who had touched the image. It seemed to him an insupportable thing that these virtuous, god-fearing monks should be brought to shame through the operation of some carnal pagan spell. He reprobated openly the hesitation of Augustin and his delay in destroying the idol. More mischief, he felt, would ensue if it were suffered to remain intact and were left to contaminate the beholders with its unchaste nudity. The act of demolition should be accomplished at once.
Secure in his own consciousness of sanctity and virtue, and fearless of any temptation or baleful influence that might be exerted by the Venus, Brother Louis, after long and painful reflection, resolved that he would take the matter into his own hands. Though this action would involve a nominal disobedience to the abbot’s order, he would go forth that very evening, armed with a heavy hammer, and would smash the idol into many fragments. Thus the honor of Périgon would be vindicated, and his insubordination become a justifiable thing.