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Under different historical circumstances this process might have been carried resolutely through and produced an intelligible pantheon in which each god had his proper function and there was no overlapping one Korê, one Kouros, one Sun-God, and so on. But in Greece that was impossible. Imaginations had been too vivid, and local types had too often become clearly personified and differentiated.
He is the most splendid and awful of Homer's Olympians. The case of Pallas Athena is even simpler, though it leads to a somewhat surprising result. What Apollo is to Ionia that, and more, Athena is to Athens. Athens is her city and she is the goddess of Athens, the Athena or Athenaia Korê.
And Kore the son of Imnah the Levite, the porter toward the east, was over the freewill offerings of God, to distribute the oblations of the LORD, and the most holy things.
You are a kind young man. You are discreet. Julius, there is trouble brewing for us!" "What do you mean?" I asked. A foreboding of evil rose within me. "Kore!" she whispered. "Kore?" I echoed. "What of him?" She looked fearfully about her. "He was taken yesterday morning," she said. "Do you mean arrested?" I exclaimed, unwilling to believe the staggering news.
But there was an old goddess Libera, a shadowy potentiality contrasted and paired with the masculine Liber, and they chose her and gave Kore her name.
Here the Romans were hard put to it to find a goddess who represented any similar content, and after all this was no light task because Kore has little meaning unless she is taken also as Persephone, Pluto's bride a process which required a mythological knowledge and appreciation in which the Romans of the early republic were totally lacking.
"Key of the Postern Gate of the Pasha's Palace at Belgrade, 1810," "House Key from Nuremberg, 1567," were some of the descriptions I read. Then a voice behind me said: "Ah! you admire my little treasures!" Turning, I saw a short, stout man, of a marked Jewish appearance, with a bald head, a fat nose, little beady eyes and a large waist. "Eugen Kore!" he introduced himself with a bow. "Meyer!"
I see Hera in you, too, the peering, proud lady of intolerant eyelids; and Kore, the pale, sad wife which makes you your own daughter, my dear; and Gaia, by whom the Athenians swore when they were serious, Gaia, the Heart of the Earth. All these you are in turns; but to me Despoina, the Lady of the Country, whose secrets no man knows but me."
I sat and looked at my plate, my heart too full for words. It was bitter to have dared so much to get this far and then find the path blocked, as it seemed, by an insuperable barrier. They were after me all right: the mention of Clubfoot's name, the swift, stern retribution that had befallen Kore, made that certain and I could do nothing.
Most of the tables were occupied, and there was almost as much noise as smoke in the place. A woman's voice screamed: "Shut the door, can't you, I'm freezing!" I obeyed and, following Kore to a table, sat down. A man in his shirt-sleeves, who was pulling beer at the bar, left his beer-engine and, coming across the room to Kore, greeted him cordially, and asked him what we would take.
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