perished unhappily, and Cadmus and Harmonia quitted Thebes, now grown odious to
them, and emigrated to the country of the Enchelians, who received them with honor
and made Cadmus their king. But the misfortunes of their children still weighed upon
their minds; and one day Cadmus exclaimed, "If a serpent's life is so dear to the gods,
I would I were myself a serpent." No sooner had he uttered the words than he began to
change his form. Harmonia beheld it and prayed to the gods to let her share his fate.
Both became serpents. They live in the woods, but mindful of their origin, they neither
avoid the presence of man, nor do they ever injure any one.
There is a tradition that Cadmus introduced into Greece the letters of the
alphabet which were invented by the Phoenicians. This is alluded to by Byron where
addressing the modern Greeks, he says, -
"You have the letters Cadmus gave,
Think you he meant them for a slave?"
Milton, describing the serpent which tempted Eve, is reminded of the serpents of
the classical stories and says, -
" - pleasing was his shape,
And lovely: never since of serpent kind
Lovelier; not those that in Illyria changed
Hermione and Cadmus, nor the god
In Epidaurus."
For an explanation of the last allusion, see Epidaurus.
The Myrmidons.
The Myrmidons were the soldiers of Achilles, in the Trojan war. From them all
zealous and unscrupulous followers of a political chief are called by that name, down to
this day. But the origin of the Myrmidons would not give one the idea of a fierce and
bloody race, but rather of a laborious and peaceful one.
Cephalus, king of Athens, arrived in the island of Aegina to seek assistance of
his old friend and ally Aeacus, the king, in his war with Minos, king of Crete. Cephalus
was most kindly received, and the desired assistance readily promised. "I have people
enough," said Aeacus, "to protect myself and spare you such a force as you need." "I
rejoice to see it," replied Cephalus, "and my wonder has been raised, I confess, to find
such a host of youths as I see around me, all apparently of about the same age. Yet
there are many individuals whom I previously knew, that I look for now in vain. What has
become of them?" Aeacus groaned, and replied with a voice of sadness, "I have been
intending to tell you, and will now do so, without more delay, that you may see how from
the saddest beginning a happy result sometimes flows. Those whom you formerly knew
are now dust and ashes! A plague sent by angry Juno devastated the land She hated it
because it bore the name of one of her husband's female favorites. While the disease
appeared to spring from natural causes we resisted it as we best might, by natural
remedies; but it soon appeared that the pestilence was too powerful for our efforts, and
we yielded. At the beginning the sky seemed to settle down upon the earth, and thick
clouds shut in the heated air. For four months together a deadly south wind prevailed.
The disorder affected the wells and springs; thousands of snakes crept over the land
and shed their poison in the fountains. The force of the disease was first spent on the
lower animals, dogs, cattle, sheep, and birds. The luckless ploughman wondered to see
his oxen fall in the midst of their work, and lie helpless in the unfinished furrow. The
wool fell from the bleating sheep, and their bodies pined away. The horse once
foremost in the race contested the palm no more, but groaned at his stall and died an
inglorious death. The wild boar forgot his rage, the stag his swiftness, the bears no
longer attacked the herds. Every thing languished; dead bodies lay in the roads, the
fields, and the woods; the air was poisoned by them. I tell you what is hardly credible,
but neither dogs nor birds would touch them, nor starving wolves. Their decay spread
the infection. Next the disease attacked the country people, and then the dwellers in the
city. At first the cheek was flushed, and the breath drawn with difficulty. The tongue
grew rough and swelled, and the dry mouth stood open with its veins enlarged and
gasped for the air. Men could not bear the heat of their clothes or their beds, but
preferred to lie on the bare ground; and the ground did not cool them, but on the
contrary, they heated the spot where they lay. Nor could the physicians help, for the
disease attacked them also, and the contact of the sick gave them infection, so that the
most faithful were the first victims. At last all hope of relief vanished, and men learned to
look upon death as the only deliverer from disease. Then they gave way to every
inclination, and cared not to ask what was expedient, for nothing was expedient. All
restraint laid aside, they crowded around the wells and fountains and drank till they died,
without quenching thirst. Many had not strength to get away from the water, but died in
the midst of the stream, and others would drink of it notwithstanding. Such was their
weariness of their sick beds that some would creep forth, and if not strong enough to
stand, would die on the ground. They seemed to hate their friends, and got away from
their homes, as if, not knowing the cause of their sickness, they charged it on the place
of their abode. Some were seen tottering along the road, as long as they could stand,
while others sank on the earth, and turned their dying eyes around to take a last look,
then closed them in death.
"What heart had I left me, during all this, or what ought I to have had, except to
hate life and wish to be with my dead subjects? On all sides lay my people strewn like
over-ripened apples beneath the tree, or acorns under the storm-shaken oak. You see
yonder a temple on the height. It is sacred to Jupiter. O, how many offered prayers
there, husbands for wives, fathers for sons, and died in the very act of supplication! How
often, while the priest made ready for sacrifice, the victim fell, struck down by disease
without waiting for the blow At length all reverence for sacred things was lost. Bodies
were thrown out unburied, wood was wanting for funeral piles, men fought with one
another for the possession of them. Finally there were none left to mourn; sons and
husbands, old men and youths, perished alike unlamented.
"Standing before the altar I raised my eyes to heaven. 'O Jupiter,' I said, 'if thou
art indeed my father, and art not ashamed of thy offspring, give me back my people, or
take me also away!' At these words a clap of thunder was heard. 'I accept the omen,' I
cried; 'O, may it be a sign of a favorable disposition towards me!' By chance there grew
by the place where I stood an oak with wide-spreading branches, sacred to Jupiter. I
observed a troop of ants busy with their labor, carrying minute grains in their mouths and
following one another in a line up the trunk of the tree. Observing their numbers with
admiration I said, 'Give me, O father, citizens as numerous as these, and replenish my
empty city.' The tree shook and gave a rustling sound with its branches though no wind
agitated them. I trembled in every limb, yet I kissed the earth and the tree. I would not
confess to myself that I hoped, yet I did hope. Night came on and sleep took possession
of my frame oppressed with cares. The tr
ee stood before me in my dreams, with its
numerous branches all covered with living, moving creatures. It seemed to shake its
limbs and throw down over the ground a multitude of those industrious grain-gathering
animals, which appeared to gain in size, and grow larger and larger, and by-and-by to
stand erect, lay aside their superfluous legs and their black color, and finally to assume
the human form. Then I awoke, and my first impulse was to chide the gods who had
robbed me of a sweet vision and given me no reality in its place. Being still in the temple
my attention was caught by the sound of many voices without; a sound of late unusual to
my ears. While I began to think I was yet dreaming, Telamon, my son, throwing open
the temple-gates, exclaimed, 'Father, approach, and behold things surpassing even your
hopes!' I went forth, I saw a multitude of men, such as I had seen in my dream, and they
were passing in procession in the same manner. While I gazed with wonder and delight
they approached, and kneeling hailed me as their king. I paid my vows to Jove, and
proceeded to allot the vacant city to the new-born race, and to parcel out the fields
among them. I called them Myrmidons from the ant, (myrmex,) from which they sprang.
You have seen these persons; their dispositions resemble those which they had in their
former shape. They are a diligent and industrious race, eager to gain, and tenacious of
their gains. Among them you may recruit your forces. They will follow you to the war,
young in years and bold in heart."
This description of the plague is copied by Ovid from the account which
Thucydides, the Greek historian, gives of the plague of Athens. The historian drew from
life, and all the poets and writers of fiction since his day, when they have had occasion to
describe a similar scene, have borrowed their details from him.
Chapter XIII: Nisus And Scylla, Echo And Narcissus, Clytie, Hero And
Leander
Nisus And Scylla.
Minos, king of Crete, made war upon Megara. Nisus was king of Megara, and
Scylla was his daughter. The siege had now lasted six months, and the city still held
out, for it was decreed by fate that it should not be taken so long as a certain purple
lock, which glittered among the hair of King Nisus, remained on his head. There was a
tower on the city walls, which overlooked the plain where Minos and his army were
encamped. To this tower Scylla used to repair, and look abroad over the tents of the
hostile army. The siege had lasted so long that she had learned to distinguish the
persons of the leaders. Minos, in particular, excited her admiration. Arrayed in his
helmet, and bearing his shield, she admired his graceful deportment; if he threw his
javelin, skill seemed combined with force in the discharge; if he drew his bow, Apollo
himself could not have done it more gracefully. But when he laid aside his helmet, and
in his purple robes, his white horse with its gay caparisons, in its foaming mouth, the
daughter of Nisus was hardly mistress of herself; she was almost frantic with
admiration. She envied the weapon that he grasped, the reins that he held. She felt as
if she could, if it were possible, go to him through the hostile ranks; she felt an impulse
to cast herself down from the tower into the midst of his camp, or to open the gates to
him, or to do any thing else, so only it might gratify Minos. As she sat in the tower, she
talked thus with herself: "I know not whether to rejoice or grieve at this sad war. I
grieve that Minos is our enemy; but I rejoice at any cause that brings him to my sight.
Perhaps he would be willing to grant us peace, and receive me as a hostage. I would
fly down, if I could, and alight in his camp, and tell him that we yield ourselves to his
mercy. But, then, to betray my father! No! rather would I never see Minos again. And
yet no doubt it is sometimes the best thing for a city to be conquered, when the
conqueror is clement and generous. Minos certainly has right on his side. I think we
shall be conquered; and if that must be the end of it, why should not love unbar the
gates to him, instead of leaving it to be done by war? Better spare delay and slaughter
if we can. And O, if any one should wound or kill Minos! No one surely would have
the heart to do it; yet ignorantly, not knowing him, one might. I will, I will surrender
myself to him, with my country as a dowry, and so put an end to the war. But how?
The gates are guarded, and my father keeps the keys; he only stands in my way. O
that it might please the gods to take him away! But why ask the gods to do it? Another
woman, loving as I do, would remove with her own hands whatever stood in the way of
her love. And can any other woman dare more than I? I would encounter fire and
sword to gain my object; but here there is no need of fire and sword. I only need my
father's purple lock. More precious than gold to me, that will give me all I wish."
While she thus reasoned night came on, and soon the whole palace was buried
in sleep. She entered her father's bedchamber and cut off the fatal lock; then passed
out of the city and entered the enemy's camp. She demanded to be led to the king,
and thus addressed him: "I am Scylla, the daughter of Nisus. I surrender to you my
country and my father's house. I ask no reward but yourself; for love of you I have
done it. See here the purple lock! With this I give you my father and his kingdom." She
held out her hand with the fatal spoil. Minos shrunk back and refused to touch it. "The
gods destroy thee, infamous woman," he exclaimed; "disgrace of our time! May
neither earth nor sea yield thee a resting-place! Surely, my Crete, where Jove himself
was cradled, shall not be polluted with such a monster!" Thus he said, and gave orders
that equitable terms should be allowed to the conquered city, and that the fleet should
immediately sail from the island.
Scylla was frantic. "Ungrateful man," she exclaimed, "is it thus you leave me? -
me who have given you victory, - who have sacrificed for you parent and country! I am
guilty, I confess, and deserve to die, but not by your hand." As the ships left the shore,
she leaped into the water, and seizing the rudder of the one which carried Minos, she
was borne along an unwelcome companion of their course. A sea-eagle soaring aloft -
it was her father who had been changed into that form, - seeing her, pounced down
upon her, and struck her with his beak and claws. In terror she let go the ship, and
would have fallen into the water, but some pitying deity changed her into a bird. The
sea-eagle still cherishes the old animosity; and whenever he espies her in his lofty
flight, you may see him dart down upon her, with beak and claws, to take vengeance
for the ancient crime.
Echo And Narcissus.
Echo was a beautiful nymph, fond of the woods and hills, where she devoted
herself to woodland sports. She was a favorite of Diana, and attended her in the
chase. But Echo had one failing; she was fond of talking, and whether in chat or
argument, would have the last word. One day Juno was seeking her husband, who,
she had reason to fear, was amusing himself among the nymphs. Echo by her talk
contrived to detain the goddess till the nymphs made their escape. When Juno
discovered it,
she passed sentence upon Echo in these words: "You shall forfeit the
use of that tongue with which you have cheated me, except for that one purpose you
are so fond of - reply. You shall still have the last word, but no power to speak first."
This nymph saw Narcissus, a beautiful youth, as he pursued the chase upon the
mountains. She loved him, and followed his footsteps. O, how she longed to address
him in the softest accents, and win him to converse! but it was not in her power. She
waited with impatience for him to speak first, and had her answer ready. One day the
youth, being separated from his companions, shouted aloud, "Who's here?" Echo
replied, "Here." Narcissus looked around, but seeing no one, called out, "Come." Echo
answered, "Come." As no one came, Narcissus called again, "Why do you shun me?"
Echo asked the same question. "Let us join one another," said the youth. The maid
answered with all her heart in the same words, and hastened to the spot, ready to
throw her arms about his neck. He started back, exclaiming, "Hands off! I would
rather die than you should have me!" "Have me," said she; but it was all in vain. He
left her, and she went to hide her blushes in the recesses of the woods. From that
time forth she lived in caves and among mountain cliffs. Her form faded with grief, till
at last all her flesh shrank away. Her bones were changed into rocks, and there was
nothing left of her but her voice. With that she is still ready to reply to any one who
calls her, and keeps up her old habit of having the last word.
Narcissus's cruelty in this case was not the only instance. He shunned all the
rest of the nymphs, as he had lone poor Echo. One day a maiden, who had in vain
endeavored to attract him, uttered a prayer that he might some time or other feel what
it was to love and meet no return of affection. The avenging goddess heard and
granted the prayer.
There was a clear fountain, with water like silver, to which the shepherds never
drove their flocks, nor the mountain goats resorted, nor any of the beasts of the for est;
Age of Fable or Beauties of Mythology Page 13