In his brief story, “Ragnarok,” Borges tells a dream of an election taking place in the School of Philosophy and Letters that was interrupted by the coming of the gods. His description of the gods is wonderful:
“A voice shouted ‘Here they come!’ and then ‘The Gods! The Gods!’ Four or five individuals emerged from the mob and occupied the platform of the main lecture hall. We all applauded, tearfully; theses were the Gods returning after a centuries-long exile. Made larger by the platform, their heads thrown back and their chests thrust forward, they arrogantly received our homage. One held a branch which no doubt conformed to the simple botany of dreams; another, in a broad gesture, extended his hand which was a claw; one of the faces of Janus looked with distrust at the curved beak of Thoth. Perhaps aroused by our applause, one of them ?EI no longer know which ?Eerupted in a victorious clatter, unbelievably harsh, with something of a gargle and a whistle. From that moment, things changed.
“It all began with the suspicion (perhaps exaggerated) that the Gods did not know how to talk. Centuries of fell and fugitive life had atrophied the human element in them; the moon of Islam and the cross of Rome had been implacable with these outlaws. Very low foreheads, yellow teeth, stringy mulatto or Chinese mustaches and thick bestial lips showed the degeneracy of the Olympian lineage. Their clothing corresponded not to a decorous poverty but rather to the sinister luxury of the gambling houses and brothels of the Bajo. A carnation bled crimson in a lapel and the bulge of a knife was outlined beneath a close-fitting jacket. Suddenly we sensed that they were playing their last card, that they were cunning, ignorant and cruel like old beasts of prey and that, if we let ourselves be overcome by fear and pity, they would finally destroy us.”
Then the conclusion: “We took out our heavy revolvers (all of a sudden there were revolvers in the dream) and joyfully killed the Gods.”
So much for Nietzsche, and for all the neo-pagans.
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