Age of Fable or Beauties of Mythology

by Thomas Bulfinch

  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;