This story explains the allusion in one of Milton's sonnets, "On the detraction
which followed upon his writing certain treatises."
"I did but prompt the age to quit their clogs
By the known laws of ancient liberty,
When straight a barbarous noise environs me
Of owls and cuckoos, asses, apes and dogs.
As when those hinds that were transformed to frogs
Railed at Latona's twin-born progeny,
Which after held the sun and moon in fee."
The persecution which Latona experienced from Juno is alluded to in the story.
The tradition was that the future mother of Apollo and Diana, flying from the wrath of
Juno, besought all the islands of the Aegean to afford her a place of rest, but all feared
too much the potent queen of heaven to assist her rival. Delos alone consented to
become the birthplace of the future deities. Delos was then a floating island; but when
Latona arrived there, Jupiter fastened it with adamantine chains to the bottom of the sea,
that it might be a secure resting-place for his beloved. Byron alludes to Delos in his Don
Juan: -
"The isles of Greece! the isles of Greece!
Where burning Sappho loved and sung,
Where grew the arts of war and peace,
Where Delos rose and Phoebus sprun
Chapter V: Phaeton
Phaeton was the son of Apollo and the nymph Clymene. One day a schoolfellow
laughed at the idea of his being the son of the god, and Phaeton went in rage and
shame and reported it to his mother. "If," said he, "I am indeed of heavenly birth, give
me, mother, some proof of it, and establish my claim to the honor." Clymene stretched
forth her hands towards the skies, and said, "I call to witness the Sun which looks
down upon us, that I have told you the truth. If I speak falsely, let this be the last time I
behold his light. But it needs not much labor to go and inquire for yourself; the land
whence the Sun rises lies next to ours. Go and demand of him whether he will own
you as a son." Phaeton heard with delight. He travelled to India, which lies directly in
the regions of sunrise; and, full of hope and pride, approached the goal whence his
parent begins his course.
The palace of the Sun stood reared aloft on columns, glittering with gold and
precious stones, while polished ivory formed the ceilings, and silver the doors. The
workmanship surpassed the material; ^* for upon the walls Vulcan had represented
earth, sea and skies, with their inhabitants. In the sea were the nymphs, some sporting
in the waves, some riding on the backs of fishes, while others sat upon the rocks and
dried their sea-green hair. Their faces were not all alike, nor yet unlike, - but such as
sisters' ought to be. ^* The earth had its towns and forests and rivers and rustic
divinities. Over all was carved the likeness of the glorious heaven; and on the silver
doors the twelve signs of the zodiac, six on each side.
[Footnote *: See Proverbial Expressions, page 477.]
Clymene's son advanced up the steep ascent, and entered the halls of his
disputed father. He approached the paternal presence, but stopped at a distance, for
the light was more than he could bear. Phoebus, arrayed in a purple vesture, sat on a
throne which glittered as with diamonds. On his right hand and his left stood the Day
the Month, and the Year, and, at regular intervals, the Hours. Spring stood with her
head crowned with flowers, and Summer, with garment cast aside, and a garland
formed of spears of ripened grain, and Autumn, with his feet stained with grape-juice,
and icy Winter, with his hair stiffened with hoar frost. Surrounded by these attendants,
the Sun, with the eye that sees every thing beheld the youth dazzled with the novelty
and splendor of the scene, and inquired the purpose of his errand The youth replied,
"O, light of the boundless world, Phoebus, my father, - if you permit me to use that
name, - give me some proof, I beseech you, by which I may be known as yours." He
ceased; and his father, laying aside the beams that shone all around his head, bade
him approach, and embracing him, said, "My son, you deserve not to be disowned,
and I confirm what your mother has told you. To put an end to your doubts, ask what
you will, the gift shall be yours. I call to witness that dreadful lake, which I never saw,
but which we gods swear by in our most solemn engagements." Phaeton immediately
asked to be permitted for one day to drive the chariot of the sun. The father repented
of his promise; thrice and four times he shook his radiant head in warning. "I have
spoken rashly," said he; "this only request I would fain deny. I beg you to withdraw it.
It is not a safe boon, nor one, my Phaeton, suited to your youth and strength. Your lot
is mortal, and you ask what is beyond a mortal's power. In your ignorance you aspire
to do that which not even the gods themselves may do. None but myself may drive
the flaming car of day. Not even Jupiter, whose terrible right arm hurls the
thunderbolts. The first part of the way is steep, and such as the horses when fresh in
the morning can hardly climb; the middle is high up in the heavens, whence I myself
can scarcely, without alarm, look down and behold the earth and sea stretched
beneath me. The last part of the road descends rapidly, and requires most careful
driving. Tethys, who is waiting to receive me, often trembles for me lest I should fall
headlong. Add to all this, the heaven is all the time turning round and carrying the
stars with it. I have to be perpetually on my guard lest that movement, which sweeps
every thing else along, should hurry me also away. Suppose I should lend you the
chariot, what would you do? Could you keep your course while the sphere was
revolving under you? Perhaps you think that there are forests and cities, the abodes
of gods, and palaces and temples on the way. On the contrary, the road is through the
midst of frightful monsters. You pass by the horns of the Bull, in front of the Archer,
and near the Lion's jaws, and where the Scorpion stretches its arms in one direction
and the Crab in another. Nor will you find it easy to guide those horses, with their
breasts full of fire that they breathe forth from their mouths and nostrils. I can scarcely
govern them myself, when they are unruly and resist the reins. Beware, my son, lest I
be the donor of a fatal gift; recall your request while yet you may. Do you ask me for a
proof that you are sprung from my blood? I give you a proof in my fears for you. Look
at my face, - I would that you could look into my breast, you would there see all a
father's anxiety. Finally," he continued, "look round the world and choose whatever
you will of what earth or sea contains most precious, - ask it and fear no refusal. This
only I pray you not to urge. It is not honor, but destruction you seek. Why do you
hang round my neck and still entreat me? You shall have it if you persist, - the oath is
sworn and must be kept, - but I beg you to choose more wisely."
He ended; but the youth rejected all admonition, and held to his demand. So,
having resisted as long as he could, Phoebus at last led the way to where stood the
lofty chariot.
It was of gold, the gift of Vulcan; the axle was of gold, the pole and wheels of
gold, the spokes of silver. Along the seat were rows of chrysolites and diamonds,
which reflected all around the brightness of the sun. While the daring youth gazed in
admiration, the early Dawn threw open the purple doors of the east, and showed the
pathway strewn with roses. The stars withdrew, marshalled by the Daystar, which last
of all retired also. The father, when he saw the earth beginning to glow, and the Moon
preparing to retire, ordered the Hours to harness up the horses. They obeyed, and led
forth from the lofty stalls the steeds full fed with ambrosia, and attached the reins.
Then the father bathed the face of his son with a powerful unguent, and made him
capable of enduring the brightness of the flame. He set the rays on his head, and, with
a foreboding sigh, said, "If, my son, you will in this at least heed my advice, spare the
whip and hold tight the reins. They go fast enough of their own accord; the labor is to
hold them in. You are not to take the straight road directly between the five circles, but
turn off to the left. Keep within the limit of the middle zone, and avoid the northern and
the southern alike. You will see the marks of the wheels, and they will serve to guide
you. And, that the skies and the earth may each receive their due share of heat, go
not too high, or you will burn the heavenly dwellings, nor too low, or you will set the
earth on fire; the middle course is safest and best. ^* And now I leave you to your
chance, which I hope will plan better for you than you have done for yourself. Night is
passing out of the western gates and we can delay no longer. Take the reins; but if at
last your heart fails you, and you will benefit by my advice, stay where you are in
safety, and suffer me to light and warm the earth." The agile youth sprang into the
chariot, stood erect and grasped the reins with delight, pouring out thanks to his
reluctant parent.
[Footnote *: See Proverbial Expressions, page 477.]
Meanwhile the horses fill the air with their snortings and fiery breath, and stamp
the ground impatient. Now the bars are let down, and the boundless plain of the
universe lies open before them. They dart forward and cleave the opposing clouds,
and outrun the morning breezes which started from the same eastern goal. The
steeds soon perceived that the load they drew was lighter than usual; and as a ship
without ballast is tossed hither and thither on the sea, so the chariot, without its
accustomed weight, was dashed about as if empty. They rush headlong and leave the
travelled road. He is alarmed, and knows not how to guide them; nor, if he knew, has
he the power. Then, for the first time, the Great and Little Bear were scorched with
heat, and would fain, if it were possible, have plunged into the water; and the Serpent
which lies coiled up round the north pole, torpid and harmless, grew warm, and with
warmth felt its rage revive. Bootes, they say, fled away, though encumbered with his
plough, and all unused to rapid motion.
When hapless Phaeton looked down upon the earth, now spreading in vast
extent beneath him, he grew pale and his knees shook with terror. In spite of the glare
all around him, the sight of his eyes grew dim. He wished he had never touched his
father's horses, never learned his parentage, never prevailed in his request. He is
borne along like a vessel that flies before a tempest, when the pilot can do no more
and betakes himself to his prayers. What shall he do? Much of the heavenly road is
left behind, but more remains before. He turns his eyes from one direction to the
other; now to the goal whence he began his course, now to the realms of sunset which
he is not destined to reach. He loses his self command, and knows not what to do, -
whether to draw tight the reins or throw them loose; he forgets the names of the
horses. He sees with terror the monstrous forms scattered over the surface of heaven.
Here the Scorpion extended his two great arms, with his tail and crooked claws
stretching over two signs of the zodiac. When the boy beheld him, reeking with poison
and menacing with his fangs, his courage failed, and the reins fell from his hands. The
horses, when they felt them loose on their backs, dashed headlong, and unrestrained
went off into unknown regions of the sky, in among the stars, hurling the chariot over
pathless places, now up in high heaven, now down almost to the earth. The moon
saw with astonishment her brother's chariot running beneath her own. The clouds
begin to smoke, and the mountain tops take fire; the fields are parched with heat, the
plants wither, the trees with their leafy branches burn, the harvest is ablaze! But these
are small things. Great cities perished, with their walls and towers; whole nations with
their people were consumed to ashes! The forest-clad mountains burned, Athos and
Taurus and Tmolus and Oete; Ida, once celebrated for fountains, but now all dry; the
Muses' mountain Helicon, and Haemus; Aetna, with fires within and without, and
Parnassus, with his two peaks, and Rhodope, forced at last to part with his snowy
crown. Her cold climate was no protection to Scythia, Caucasus burned, and Ossa
and Pindus, and, greater than both, Olympus; the Alps high in air, and the Apennines
crowned with clouds.
Then Phaeton beheld the world on fire, and felt the heat intolerable. The air he
breathed was like the air of a furnace and full of burning ashes, and the smoke was of
a pitchy darkness. He dashed forward he knew not whither. Then, it is believed, the
people of Aethiopia became black by the blood being forced so suddenly to the
surface, and the Libyan desert was dried up to the condition in which it remains to this
day. The Nymphs of the fountains, with dishevelled hair, mourned their waters, nor
were the rivers safe beneath their banks; Tanais smoked, and Caicus, Xanthus and
Meander. Babylonian Euphrates and Ganges, Tagus with golden sands, and Cayster
where the swans resort. Nile fled away and hid his head in the desert, and there it still
remains concealed. Where he used to discharge his waters through seven mouths
into the sea, there seven dry channels alone remained. The earth cracked open, and
through the chinks light broke into Tartarus, and frightened the king of shadows and
his queen. The sea shrank up. Where before was water, it became a dry plain; and
the mountains that lie beneath the waves lifted up their heads and became islands.
The fishes sought the lowest depths, and the dolphins no longer ventured as usual to
sport on the surface. Even Nereus, and his wife Doris, with the Nereids, their
daughters, sought the deepest caves for refuge. Thrice Neptune essayed to raise his
head above the surface, and thrice was driven back by the heat. Earth, surrounded as
she was by waters, yet with head and shoulders bare, screening her face with her
hand, looked up to heaven, and with a husky voice called on Jupiter.
"O, ruler of the gods, if I have deserved this treatment, and it is your will that I
perish with fire, why with hold your thunderbolts? Let me at least fall by you hand. Is
this the reward of my fertility, of my obedient service? Is it for this that I have supplied
herbage for cattle, and fruits for men, and frankincense for your altars? But if I am
unworthy of regard, what ha
s my brother Ocean done to deserve such a fate? If
neither of us can excite your pity, think, I pray you, of your own heaven and behold
how both the poles are smoking which sustain your palace, which must fall if they be
destroyed. Atlas faints, and scarce holds up his burden. If sea, earth, and heaven
perish, we fall into ancient Chaos. Save what yet remains to us from the devouring
flame. O, take thought for our deliverance in this awful moment!"
Thus spoke Earth, and overcome with heat and thirst, could say no more. Then
Jupiter omnipotent, calling to witness all the gods, including him who had lent the
chariot, and showing them that all was lost unless some speedy remedy were applied,
mounted the lofty tower from whence he diffuses clouds over the earth, and hurls the
forked lightnings. But at that time not a cloud was to be found to interpose for a screen
to earth, nor was a shower remaining unexhausted. He thundered, and brandishing a
lightning bolt in his right hand launched it against the charioteer, and struck him at the
same moment from his seat and from existence! Phaeton, with his hair on fire, fell
headlong, like a shooting star which marks the heavens with its brightness as it falls,
and Eridanus, the great river, received him and cooled his burning frame. The Italian
Naiads reared a tomb for him, and inscribed these words upon the stone: -
"Driver of Phoebus' chariot, Phaeton,
Struck by Jove's thunder, rests beneath this stone.
He could not rule his father's car of fire,
Yet was it much so nobly to aspire."
His sisters, the Heliades, as they lamented his fate were turned into poplar trees,
on the banks of the river and their tears, which continued to flow, became amber as they
dropped into the stream.
Milman, in his poem of Samor, makes the following allusion to Phaeton's story: -
"As when the palsied universe aghast
Lay . . . mute and still,
When drove, so poets sing, the Sun-born youth
Devious through Heaven's affrighted signs his sire's
Age of Fable or Beauties of Mythology Page 6