Age of Fable or Beauties of Mythology

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Age of Fable or Beauties of Mythology Page 24

by Thomas Bulfinch


  nor to try my strength against the three-headed dog with snaky hair who guards the

  entrance. I come to seek my wife, whose opening years the poisonous viper's fang

  has brought to an untimely end. Love has led me here, Love, a god all powerful with

  us who dwell on the earth, and, if old traditions say true, not less so here. I implore

  you by these abodes full of terror, these realms of silence and uncreated things, unite

  again the thread of Eurydice's life. We all are destined to you, and sooner or later

  must pass to your domain. She too, when she shall have filled her term of life, will

  rightly be yours. But till then grant her to me, I beseech you. If you deny me, I cannot

  return alone; you shall triumph in the death of us both."

  As he sang these tender strains, the very ghosts shed tears. Tantalus, in spite of

  his thirst, stopped for a moment his efforts for water, Ixion's wheel stood still, the

  vulture ceased to tear the giant's liver, the daughters of Danaus rested from their task

  of drawing water in a sieve, and Sisyphus sat on his rock to listen. Then for the first

  time, it is said, the cheeks of the Furies were wet with tears. Proserpine could not

  resist, and Pluto himself gave way. Eurydice was called. She came from among the

  new- arrived ghosts, limping with her wounded foot. Orpheus was permitted to take

  her away with him on one condition, that he should not turn round to look at her till they

  should have reached the upper air. Under this condition they proceeded on their way,

  he leading, she following, through passages dark and steep, in total silence, till they

  had nearly reached the outlet into the cheerful upper world, when Orpheus, in a

  moment of forgetfulness, to assure himself that she was still following, cast a glance

  behind him, when instantly she was borne away. Stretching out their arms to embrace

  one another they grasped only the air! Dying now a second time she yet cannot

  reproach her husband, for how can she blame his impatience to behold her!

  "Farewell," she said, "a last farewell," - and was hurried away, so fast that the sound

  hardly reached his ears.

  Orpheus endeavored to follow her, and besought permission to return and try

  once more for her release; but the stern ferryman repulsed him and refused passage.

  Seven days he lingered about the brink, without food or sleep; then bitterly accusing of

  cruelty the powers of Erebus, he sang his complaints to the rocks and mountains,

  melting the hearts of tigers and moving the oaks from their stations. He held himself

  aloof from womankind, dwelling constantly on the recollection of his sad mischance.

  The Thracian maidens tried their best to captivate him, but he repulsed their advances.

  They bore with him as long as they could; but finding him insensible, one day, excited

  by the rites of Bacchus, one of them exclaimed, "See yonder our despiser!" and threw

  at him her javelin. The weapon, as soon as it came within the sound of his lyre, fell

  harmless at his feet. So did also the stones that they threw at him. But the women

  raised a scream and drowned the voice of the music, and then the missiles reached

  him and soon were stained with his blood. The maniacs tore him limb from limb, and

  threw his head and his lyre into the river Hebrus, down which they floated, murmuring

  sad music, to which the shores responded a plaintive symphony. The Muses gathered

  up the fragments of his body and buried them at Libethra, where the nightingale is said

  to sing over his grave more sweetly than in any other part of Greece. His lyre was

  placed by Jupiter among the stars. His shade passed a second time to Tartarus,

  where he sought out his Eurydice and embraced her, with eager arms. They roam the

  happy fields together now, sometimes he leading, sometimes she; and Orpheus gazes

  as much as he will upon her, no longer incurring a penalty for a thoughtless glance.

  The story of Orpheus has furnished Pope with an illustration of the power of

  music, for his Ode for St. Cecilia's Day. The following stanza relates the conclusion of

  the story: -

  "But soon, too soon the lover turns his eyes;

  Again she falls, again she dies, she dies!

  How wilt thou now the fatal sisters move?

  No crime was thine, if 'tis no crime to love.

  Now under hanging mountains,

  Beside the falls of fountains,

  Or where Hebrus wanders,

  Rolling in meanders,

  All alone,

  He makes his moan,

  And calls her ghost,

  Forever, ever, ever lost!

  Now with furies surrounded,

  Despairing, confounded,

  He trembles, he glows,

  Amidst Rhodope's snows.

  See, wild as the winds o'er the desert he flies;

  Hark! Haemus resounds with the Bacchanals' cries.

  Ah, see, he dies!

  Yet even in death Eurydice he sung,

  Eurydice still trembled on his tongue:

  Eurydice the woods

  Eurydice the floods

  Eurydice the rocks and hollow mountains rung."

  The superior melody of the nightingale's song over the grave of Orpheus is

  alluded to by Southey in his Thalaba: -

  "Then on his ear what sounds

  Of harmony arose!

  Far music and the distance-mellowed song

  From bowers of merriment;

  The waterfall remote;

  The murmuring of the leafy groves;

  The single nightingale

  Perched in the rosier by, so richly toned,

  That never from that most melodious bird

  Singing a love song to his brooding mate,

  Did Thracian shepherd by the grave

  Of Orpheus hear a sweeter melody,

  Though there the spirit of the sepulchre

  All his own power infuse, to swell

  The incense that he loves."

  Aristaeus, The Bee-Keeper.

  Man avails himself of the instincts of the inferior animals for his own advantage.

  Hence sprang the art of keeping bees. Honey must first have been known as a wild

  product, the bees building their structures in hollow trees or holes in the rocks, or any

  similar cavity that chance offered. Thus occasionally the carcass of a dead animal

  would be occupied by the bees for that purpose. It was no doubt from some such

  incident that the superstition arose that the bees were engendered by the decaying flesh

  of the animal; and Virgil, in the following story, shows how this supposed fact may be

  turned to account for renewing the swarm when it has been lost by disease or accident.

  Aristaeus, who first taught the management of bees, was the son of the water-

  nymph Cyrene. His bees had perished, and he resorted for aid to his mother. He stood

  at the river side and thus addressed her: "O mother, the pride of my life is taken from

  me! I have lost my precious bees. My care and skill have availed me nothing, and you

  my mother have not warded off from me the blow of misfortune." His mother heard these

  complaints as she sat in her palace at the bottom of the river with her attendant nymphs

  around her. They were engaged in female occupations, spinning and weaving, while one

  told stories to amuse the rest. The sad voice of Aristaeus interrupting their occupation,

  one of them put her head above the water and seeing him, returned and gave

  information to his mother, who ordered th
at he should be brought into her presence.

  The river at her command opened itself and let him pass in, while it stood curled like a

  mountain on either side. He descended to the region where the fountains of the great

  rivers lie; he saw the enormous receptacles of waters and was almost deafened with the

  roar, while he surveyed them hurrying off in various directions to water the face of the

  earth. Arriving at his mother's apartment he was hospitably received by Cyrene and her

  nymphs, who spread their table with the richest dainties. They first poured out libations

  to Neptune, then regaled themselves with the feast, and after that Cyrene thus

  addressed him: "There is an old prophet named Proteus, who dwells in the sea and is a

  favorite of Neptune whose herd of sea-calves he pastures. We nymphs hold him in

  great respect, for he is a learned sage and knows all things, past, present, and to come.

  He can tell you, my son, the cause of the mortality among your bees, and how you may

  remedy it. But he will not do it voluntarily, however you may entreat him. You must

  compel him by force. If you seize him and chain him, he will answer your questions in

  order to get released, for he cannot by all his arts get away if you hold fast the chains. I

  will carry you to his cave, where he comes at noon to take his midday repose. Then you

  may easily secure him. But when he finds himself captured, his resort is to a power he

  possesses of changing himself into various forms. He will become a wild boar or a fierce

  tiger, a scaly dragon or lion with yellow name. Or he will make a noise like the crackling

  of flames or the rush of water, so as to tempt you to let go the chain, when he will make

  his escape. But you have only to keep him fast bound, and at last when he finds all his

  arts unavailing, he will return to his own figure and obey your commands." So saying she

  sprinkled her son with fragrant nectar, the beverage of the gods, and immediately an

  unusual vigor filled his frame and courage his heart, while perfume breathed all around

  him.

  The nymph led her son to the prophet's cave and concealed him among the

  recesses of the rocks, while she herself took her place behind the clouds. When noon

  came and the hour when men and herds retreat from the glaring sun to indulge in quiet

  slumber, Proteus issued from the water, followed by his herd of sea-calves which spread

  themselves along the shore. He sat on the rock and counted his herd; then stretched

  himself on the floor of the cave and went to sleep. Aristaeus hardly allowed him to get

  fairly asleep before he fixed the fetters on him and shouted aloud. Proteus waking and

  finding himself captured immediately resorted to his arts, becoming first a fire, then a

  flood, then a horrible wild beast, in rapid succession. But finding all would not do, he at

  last resumed his own form and addressed the youth in angry accents: "Who are you,

  bold youth, who thus invade my abode, and what do you want with me?" Aristaeus

  replied, "Proteus, you know already, for it is needless for any one to attempt to deceive

  you. And do you also cease your efforts to elude me. I am led hither by divine

  assistance, to know from you the cause of my misfortune and how to remedy it." At

  these words the prophet fixing on him his gray eyes, with a piercing look, thus spoke:

  "You receive the merited reward of your deeds, by which Eurydice met her death, for in

  flying from you she trod upon a serpent, of whose bite she died. To avenge her death,

  the nymphs her companions have sent this destruction to your bees. You have to

  appease their anger, and thus it must be done: Select four bulls, of perfect form and

  size, and four cows of equal beauty, build four altars to the nymphs, and sacrifice the

  animals, leaving their carcasses in the leafy grove. To Orpheus and Eurydice you shall

  pay such funeral honors as may allay their resentment. Returning after nine days you

  will examine the bodies of the cattle slain and see what will befall." Aristaeus faithfully

  obeyed these directions. He sacrificed the cattle, he left their bodies in the grove, he

  offered funeral honors to the shades of Orpheus and Eurydice; then returning on the

  ninth day he examined the bodies of the animals, and, wonderful to relate! a swarm of

  bees had taken possession of one of the carcasses and were pursuing their labors there

  as in a hive.

  In the Task, Cowper alludes to the story of Aristaeus, when speaking of the ice-

  palace built by the Empress Anne of Russia. He has been describing the fantastic forms

  which ice assumes in connection with waterfalls, &c.: -

  "Less worthy of applause though more admired

  Because a novelty, the work of man,

  Imperial mistress of the fur-clad Russ,

  Thy most magnificent and mighty freak,

  The wonder of the north. No forest fell

  When thou wouldst build, no quarry sent its stores

  T'enrich thy walls; but thou didst hew the floods

  And make thy marble of the glassy wave.

  In such a palace Aristaeus found

  Cyrene, when he bore the plaintive tale

  Of his lost bees to her maternal ear."

  Milton also appears to have had Cyrene and her domestic scene in his mind

  when he describes to us Sabrina, the nymph of the river Severn, in the Guardian-spirit's

  Song in Comus: -

  "Sabrina fair!

  Listen where thou art sitting

  Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave

  In twisted braids of lilies knitting

  The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair;

  Listen for dear honor's sake,

  Goddess of the silver lake!

  Listen and save."

  The following are other celebrated mythical poets and musicians, some of whom

  were hardly inferior to Orpheus himself: -

  Amphion.

  Amphion was the son of Jupiter and Antiope, queen of Thebes. With his twin

  brother Zethus he was exposed at birth on Mount Cithaeron, where they grew up among

  the shepherds, not knowing their parentage. Mercury gave Amphion a lyre and taught

  him to play upon it, and his brother occupied himself in hunting and tending the flocks.

  Meanwhile Antiope, their mother, who had been treated with great cruelty by Lycus, the

  usurping king of Thebes, and by Dirce, his wife, found means to inform her children of

  their rights and to summon them to her assistance. With a band of their fellow-

  herdsmen they attacked and slew Lycus, and tying Dirce by the hair of her head to a

  bull, let him drag her till she was dead. ^* Amphion having become king of Thebes

  fortified the city with a wall. It is said that when he played on his lyre the stones moved

  of their own accord and took their places in the wall.

  [Footnote *: The punishment of Dirce is the subject of a celebrated group of

  statuary now in the Musaeum at Naples.]

  See Tennyson's poem of Amphion for an amusing use made of this story.

  Linus.

  Linus was the instructor of Hercules in music, but having one day reproved his

  pupil rather harshly, he roused the anger of Hercules, who struck him with his lyre and

  killed him.

  Thamyris.

  An ancient Thracian bard, who in his presumption challenged the Muses to a trial

  of skill, and being overcome in the contest was deprived by them of his sight. Milton

  alludes to h
im with other blind bards, when speaking of his own blindness, P. L. Book III.

  35.

  Marsyas.

  Minerva invented the flute, and played upon it to the delight of all the celestial

  auditors; but the mischievous urchin Cupid having dared to laugh at the queer face

  which the goddess made while playing, Minerva threw the instrument indignantly away,

  and it fell down to earth, and was found by Marsyas. He blew upon it, and drew from it

  such ravishing sounds that he was tempted to challenge Apollo himself to a musical

  contest. The god of course triumphed, and punished Marsyas by flaying him alive.

  Melampus.

  Melampus was the first mortal endowed with prophetic powers. Before his house

  there stood an oak tree containing a serpent's nest. The old serpents were killed by the

  servants, but Melampus took care of the young ones and fed them carefully. One day

  when he was asleep under the oak, the serpents licked his ears with their tongues. On

  awaking he was astonished to find that he now understood the language of birds and

  creeping things. This knowledge enabled him to foretell future events, and he became a

  renowned soothsayer. At one time his enemies took him captive and kept him strictly

  imprisoned. Melampus in the silence of the night heard the woodworms in the timbers

  talking together, and found out by what they said that the timbers were nearly eaten

  through and the roof would soon fall in. He told his captors and demanded to be let out,

  warning them also. They took his warning, and thus escaped destruction, and rewarded

  Melampus and held him in high honor.

  Musaeus.

  A semi-mythological personage who was represented by one tradition to be the

  son of Orpheus. He is said to have written sacred poems and oracles. Milton couples

  his name with that of Orpheus in his Il Penseroso: -

  "But O, said virgin, that thy power

  Might raise Musaeus from his bower,

 

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