Age of Fable or Beauties of Mythology

by Thomas Bulfinch

  Chinese could paint the gay colors of a butterfly with more minute exactness than the

  following lines - 'The velvet nap, &c.'?" Life. - Vol. II. 246]

  "Which when Arachne saw, as overlaid

  And mastered with workmanship so rare,

  She stood astonied long, ne aught gainsaid;

  And with fast-fixed eyes on her did stare,

  And by her silence, sign of one dismayed,

  The victory did yield her as her share:

  Yet did she inly fret and felly burn,

  And all her blood to poisonous rancor turn."

  And so the metamorphosis is caused by Arachne's own mortification and

  vexation, and not by any direct act of the goddess.

  The following specimen of old-fashioned gallantry is by Garrick: -

  Upon a Lady's Embroidery.

  "Arachne once, as poets tell,

  A goddess at her art defied,

  And soon the daring mortal fell

  The hapless victim of her pride.

  O, then beware Arachne's fate;

  Be prudent, Chloe, and submit,

  For you'll most surely meet her hate,

  Who rival both her art and wit."

  Tennyson, in his Palace of Art, describing the works of art with which the palace

  was adorned, thus alludes to Europa: -

  " - sweet Europa's mantle blew unclasped

  From off her shoulder, backward borne,

  From one hand drooped a crocus, one hand grasped

  The mild bull's golden horn."

  In his Princess there is this allusion to Danae: -

  "Now lies the earth all Danae to the stars,

  And all thy heart lies open unto me."

  Niobe.

  The fate of Arachne was noised abroad through all the country, and served as a

  warning to all presumptuous mortals not to compare themselves with the divinities. But

  one, and she a matron too, failed to learn the lesson of humility. It was Niobe, the queen

  of Thebes. She had indeed much to be proud of; but it was not her husband's fame, nor

  her own beauty, nor their great descent, nor the power of their kingdom that elated her.

  It was her children; and truly the happiest of mothers would Niobe have been, if only she

  had not claimed to be so. It was on occasion of the annual celebration in honor of

  Latona and her offspring, Apollo and Diana, - when the people of Thebes were

  assembled, their brows crowned with laurel, bearing frankincense to the altars and

  paying their vows, - that Niobe appeared among the crowd. Her attire was splendid with

  gold and gems, and her aspect beautiful as the face of an angry woman can be. She

  stood and surveyed the people with haughty looks. "What folly," said she, "is this! - to

  prefer beings whom you never saw to those who stand before your eyes! Why should

  Latona be honored with worship, and none be paid to me? My father was Tantalus, who

  was received as a guest at the table of the gods; my mother was a goddess. My

  husband built and rules this city, Thebes, and Phrygia is my paternal inheritance.

  Wherever I turn my eyes I survey the elements of my power; nor is my form and

  presence unworthy of a goddess. To all this let me add, I have seven sons and seven

  daughters, and look for sons-in-law and daughters-in-law of pretensions worthy of my

  alliance. Have I not cause for pride? Will you prefer to me this Latona, the Titan's

  daughter, with her two children? I have seven times as many. Fortunate indeed am I,

  and fortunate I shall remain! Will any one deny this? My abundance is my security. I

  feel myself too strong for Fortune to subdue. She may take from me much; I shall still

  have much left. Were I to lose some of my children, I should hardly be left as poor as

  Latona with her two only. Away with you from these solemnities, - put off the laurel from

  your brows, - have done with this worship!" The people obeyed, and left the sacred

  services uncompleted.

  The goddess was indignant. On the Cynthian mountain top, where she dwelt,

  she thus addressed her son and daughter: "My children, I who have been so proud of

  you both, and have been used to hold myself second to none of the goddesses except

  Juno alone, begin now to doubt whether I am indeed a goddess. I shall be deprived of

  my worship altogether unless you protect me." She was proceeding in this strain, but

  Apollo interrupted her. "Say no more," said he; "speech only delays punishment." So

  said Diana also. Darting through the air, veiled in clouds, they alighted on the towers of

  the city. Spread out before the gates was a broad plain, where the youth of the city

  pursued their warlike sports. The sons of Niobe were there with the rest, - some

  mounted on spirited horses richly caparisoned, some driving gay chariots. Ismenos, the

  first-born, as he guided his foaming steeds, struck with an arrow from above, cried out,

  "Ah me!" - dropped the reins and fell lifeless. Another, hearing the sound of the bow, -

  like a boatman who sees the storm gathering and makes all sail for the port, - gave the

  rein to his horses and attempted to escape. The inevitable arrow overtook him as he

  fled. Two others, younger boys, just from their tasks, had gone to the playground to

  have a game of wrestling. As they stood breast to breast, one arrow pierced them both.

  They uttered a cry together, together cast a parting look around them, and together

  breathed their last. Alphenor, an elder brother, seeing them fall hastened to the spot to

  render assistance, and fell stricken in the act of brotherly duty. One only was left,

  Ilioneus. He raised his arms to heaven to try whether prayer might not avail. "Spare me,

  ye gods!" he cried, addressing all, in his ignorance that all needed not his intercessions;

  and Apollo would have spared him, but the arrow had already left the string, and it was

  too late.

  The terror of the people and grief of the attendants soon made Niobe acquainted

  with what had taken place. She could hardly think it possible; she was indignant that the

  gods had dared and amazed that they had been able to do it. Her husband, Amphion,

  overwhelmed with the blow, destroyed himself. Alas! how different was this Niobe from

  her who had so lately driven away the people from the sacred rites, and held her stately

  course through the city, the envy of her friends, now the pity even of her foes! She knelt

  over the lifeless bodies, and kissed, now one, now another of her dead sons. Raising

  her pallid arms to heaven, "Cruel Latona," said she, "feed full your rage with my anguish!

  Satiate your hard heart, while I follow to the grave my seven sons. Yet where is your

  triumph? Bereaved as I am, I am still richer than you, my conqueror." Scarce had she

  spoken, when the bow sounded and struck terror into all hearts except Niobe's alone.

  She was brave from excess of grief. The sisters stood in garments of mourning over the

  biers of their dead brothers. One fell, struck by an arrow, and died on the corpse she

  was bewailing. Another, attempting to console her mother, suddenly ceased to speak,

  and sank lifeless to the earth. A third tried to escape by flight, a fourth by concealment,

  another stood trembling, uncertain what course to take. Six were now dead, and only

  one remained, whom the mother held clasped in her arms, and covered as it were with

  her whole body. "Spare me one, and that the youngest! O, spare me one of so many!"

  she cried; and while she spoke, that one
fell dead. Desolate she sat, among sons,

  daughters, husband, all dead, and seemed torpid with grief. The breeze moved not her

  hair, no color was on her cheek, her eyes glared fixed and immovable, there was no sign

  of life about her. Her very tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth, and her veins

  ceased to convey the tide of life. Her neck bent not, her arms made no gesture, her foot

  no step. She was changed to stone, within and without. Yet tears continued to flow;

  and, borne on a whirlwind to her native mountain, she still remains, a mass of rock, from

  which a trickling stream flows, the tribute of her never-ending grief.

  The story of Niobe has furnished Byron with a fine illustration of the fallen

  condition of modern Rome: -

  "The Niobe of nations! there she stands,

  Childless and crownless in her voiceless woe;

  An empty urn within her withered hands,

  Whose holy dust was scattered long ago;

  The Scipios' tomb contains no ashes now:

  The very sepulchres lie tenantless

  Of their heroic dwellers; dost thou flow,

  Old Tiber! through a marble wilderness?

  Rise with thy yellow waves, and mantle her distress.

  Childe Harold, IV. 79.

  Our illustration of this story is a copy of a celebrated statue in the imperial gallery

  of Florence. It is the principal figure of a group supposed to have been originally

  arranged in the pediment of a temple. The figure of the mother clasped by the arm of

  her terrified child, is one of the most admired of the ancient statues. It ranks with the

  Laocoon and the Apollo among the masterpieces of art. The following is a translation of

  a Greek epigram supposed to relate to this statue: -

  "To stone the gods have changed her, but in vain;

  The sculptor's art has made her breathe again."

  Tragic as is the story of Niobe we cannot forbear to smile at the use Moore has

  made of it in Rhymes on the Road: -

  "'Twas in his carriage the sublime

  Sir Richard Blackmore used to rhyme,

  And, if the wits don't do him wrong,

  'Twixt death and epics passed his time,

  Scribbling and killing all day long;

  Like Phoebus in his car at ease,

  Now warbling forth a lofty song,

  Now murdering the young Niobes."

  Sir Richard Blackmore was a physician, and at the same time a very prolific and

  very tasteless post, whose works are now forgotten, unless when recalled by some wit

  like Moore for the sake of a joke.

  Chapter XV: Graeae Or Gray-Maids - Perseus - Medusa - Atlas -

  Andromeda

  The Graeae And Gorgons.

  The Graeae were three sisters who were gray-haired from their birth, whence

  their name. The Gorgons were monstrous females with huge teeth like those of swine,

  brazen claws, and snaky hair. None of these beings make much figure in mythology

  except Medusa, the Gorgon, whose story we shall next advert to. We mention them

  chiefly to introduce an ingenious theory of some modern writers, namely, that the

  Gorgons and Graeae were only personifications of the terrors of the sea, the former

  denoting the strong billows of the wide open main, and the latter the white-crested

  waves that dash against the rocks of the coast. Their names in Greek signify the

  above epithets.

  Perseus And Medusa.

  Perseus was the son of Jupiter and Danae. His grandfather Acrisius alarmed by

  an oracle which had told him that his daughter's child would be the instrument of his

  death, caused the mother and child to be shut up in a chest and set adrift on the sea.

  The chest floated towards Seriphus, where it was found by a fisherman who conveyed

  the mother and infant to Polydectes, king of the country, by whom they were treated

  with kindness. When Perseus was grown up Polydectes sent him to attempt the

  conquest of Medusa, a terrible monster who had laid waste the country. She was

  once a beautiful maiden whose hair was her chief glory, but as she dared to vie in

  beauty with Minerva, the goddess deprived her of her charms and changed her

  beautiful ringlets into hissing serpents. She became a cruel monster of so frightful an

  aspect that no living thing could behold her without being turned into stone. All around

  the cavern where she dwelt might be seen the stony figures of men and animals which

  had chanced to catch a glimpse of her and had been petrified with the sight. Perseus,

  favored by Minerva and Mercury, the former of whom lent him her shield and the latter

  his winged shoes, approached Medusa while she slept, and taking care not to look

  directly at her, but guided by her image reflected in the bright shield which he bore, he

  cut off her head, and gave it to Minerva, who fixed it in the middle of her Aegis.

  Milton in his Comus thus alludes to the Aegis: -

  "What was that snaky-headed Gorgon-shield

  That wise Minerva wore, unconquered virgin,

  Wherewith she freezed her foes to congealed stone,

  But rigid looks of chaste austerity,

  And noble grace that dashed brute violence

  With sudden adoration and blank awe!"

  Armstrong, the poet of the Art of Preserving Health, thus describes the effect of

  frost upon the waters: -

  "Now blows the surly North and chills throughout

  The stiffening regions, while by stronger charms

  Than Circe e'er or fell Medea brewed.

  Each brook that wont to prattle to its banks

  Lies all bestilled and wedged betwixt its banks,

  Nor moves the withered reeds. . .

  The surges baited by the fierce North-east,

  Tossing with fretful spleen their angry heads,

  E'en in the foam of all their madness struck

  To monumental ice.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  Such execution,

  So stern, so sudden, wrought the grisly aspect

  Of terrible Medusa,

  When wandering through the woods she turned to stone

  Their savage tenants; just as the foaming Lion

  Sprang furious on his prey, her speedier power

  Outran his haste,

  And fixed in that fierce attitude he stands

  Like Rage in marble!"

  Imitations of Shakspeare.

  Perseus And Atlas.

  After the slaughter of Medusa, Perseus, bearing with him the head of the

  Gorgon, flew far and wide, over land and sea. As night came on, he reached the

  western limit of the earth, where the sun goes down. Here he would gladly have rested

  till morning. It was the realm of King Atlas, whose bulk surpassed that of all other men.

  He was rich in flocks and herds and had no neighbor or rival to dispute his state. But his

  chief pride was in his gardens, whose fruit was of gold, hanging from golden branches,

  half hid with golden leaves. Perseus said to him, "I come as a guest. If you honor

  illustrious descent, I claim Jupiter for my father; if mighty deeds, I plead the conquest of

  the Gorgon. I seek rest and food." But Atlas remembered that an ancient prophecy had

  warned him that a son of Jove should one day rob him of his golden apples. So he

  answered, "Begone! or neither your false claims of glory or parentage shall protect you;"

  and he attempted to thrust him out. Perseus, finding the giant too strong for him, said,

  "Since you value my friendship so little, deig
n to accept a present;" and turning his face

  away, he held up the Gorgon's head. Atlas, with all his bulk, was changed into stone.

  His beard and hair became forests, his arms and shoulders cliffs, his head a summit,

  and his bones rocks. Each part increased in bulk till he became a mountain, and (such

  was the pleasure of the gods) heaven with all its stars rests upon his shoulders.

  Perseus, continuing his flight, arrived at the country of the Aethiopians, of which

  Cepheus was king. Cassiopeia his queen, proud of her beauty, had dared to compare

  herself to the Sea-Nymphs, which roused their indignation to such a degree that they

  sent a prodigious sea-monster to ravage the coast. To appease the deities, Cepheus

  was directed by the oracle to expose his daughter Andromeda to be devoured by the

  monster. As Perseus looked down from his aerial height he beheld the virgin chained to

  a rock, and waiting the approach of the serpent. She was so pale and motionless that if

  it had not been for her flowing tears and her hair that moved in the breeze, he would

  have taken her for a marble statue. He was so startled at the sight that he almost forgot

  to wave his wings. As he hovered over her he said, "O virgin, undeserving of those

  chains, but rather of such as bind fond lovers together, tell me, I beseech you, your

  name and the name of your country, and why you are thus bound." At first she was silent

  from modesty, and, if she could, would have hid her face with her hands; but when he

  repeated his questions, for fear she might be thought guilty of some fault which she

  dared not tell, she disclosed her name and that of her country, and her mother's pride of

  beauty. Before she had done speaking, a sound was heard off upon the water, and the

  sea-monster appeared, with his head raised above the surface, cleaving the waves with

  his broad breast. The virgin shrieked, the father and mother who had now arrived at the