Myths of Greece and Rome Part 18

"Bold Bellerophon (so Jove decreed In wrath) fell headlong from the fields of air."

Wordsworth.

This fall, which would doubtless have killed any one but a mythological hero, merely deprived Bellerophon of his eyesight; and ever after he groped his way disconsolately, thinking of the happy days when he rode along the paths of air, and gazed upon the beautiful earth at his feet.

Bellerophon, mounted upon Pegasus, winging his flight through the air or fighting the Chimaera, is a favorite subject in sculpture and painting, which has frequently been treated by ancient artists, a few of whose most noted works are still extant in various museums.

This story, like many others, is merely a sun myth, in which Bellerophon, the orb of day, rides across the sky on Pegasus, the fleecy white clouds, and slays Chimaera, the dread monster of darkness, which he alone can overcome. Driven from home early in life, Bellerophon wanders throughout the world like his brilliant prototype, and, like it, ends his career in total darkness.

CHAPTER XXVI.

MINOR DIVINITIES.

[Sidenote: Naiades and Oreades.]

According to the ancients' belief, every mountain, valley, plain, lake, river, grove, and sea was provided with some lesser deity, whose special duty was a.s.signed by the powerful G.o.ds of Olympus. These were, for instance, the Naiades, beautiful water nymphs, who dwelt in the limpid depths of the fountains, and were considered local patrons of poetry and song.

The Oreades, or mountain nymphs, were supposed to linger in the mountain solitudes, and guide weary travelers safely through their rocky mazes.

"Mark how the climbing Oreads Beckon thee to their Arcades!"

Emerson.

[Sidenote: Napaeae and Dryades.]

As for the Napaeae, they preferred to linger in the valleys, which were kept green and fruitful by their watchful care, in which task they were ably seconded by the Dryades, the nymphs of vegetation.

The very trees in the forest and along the roadside were supposed to be each under the protection of a special divinity called Hamadryad, said to live and die with the tree intrusted to her care.

"When the Fate of Death is drawing near, First wither on the earth the beauteous trees, The bark around them wastes, the branches fall, And the nymph's soul, at the same moment, leaves The sun's fair light."

Homer.

[Sidenote: Story of Dryope.]

A sweet and touching story was told by the ancients of a mortal who was changed into a Hamadryad. This young girl, whose name was Dryope, was a beautiful young princess, the daughter of Baucis, so bright and clever, that all who knew her loved her dearly. Of course, as soon as she was old enough to think of marriage, a host of suitors asked her hand, each eager to win for his bride one so beautiful and gifted.

"No nymph of all Oechalia could compare, For beauteous form, with Dryope the fair."

Ovid (Pope's tr.).

Fully aware of the importance of making a wise choice, Dryope took her time, and finally decided to marry Andraemon, a worthy young prince, who possessed every charm calculated to win a fair girl's heart. The young people were duly married, and daily rejoiced in their happiness, which seemed almost too great for earth, when they became the parents of a charming little son.

Every day Dryope carried the child along the banks of a little lake close by the palace, where bloomed a profusion of gay-colored flowers.

"A lake there was, with shelving banks around, Whose verdant summit fragrant myrtles crown'd. Those shades, unknowing of the Fates, she sought, And to the Naiads flowery garlands brought; Her smiling babe (a pleasing charge) she press'd Between her arms."

Ovid (Pope's tr.).

One day, while wandering there as usual, accompanied by her sister, she saw a lotus blossom, and pointed it out to her little son. He no sooner saw the brilliant flower, than he stretched out his little hands. To please him, the fond mother plucked it and gave it to him.

She had scarcely done so, when she noticed drops of blood trickling from the broken stem; and while she stood there, speechless with wonder, a voice was heard accusing her of having slain Lotis, a nymph, who, to escape the pursuit of Priapus, G.o.d of the shade, had a.s.sumed the guise of a flower.

"Lotis the nymph (if rural tales be true), As from Priapus' lawless love she flew, Forsook her form; and fixing here became A flowery plant, which still preserves her name."

Ovid (Pope's tr.).

Recovering from her first speechless terror, Dryope turned to flee, with a pitiful cry of compa.s.sion on her pale lips, but, to her astonishment, she could not leave the spot: her feet seemed rooted to the ground. She cast a rapid glance downward to ascertain what could so impede her progress, and noticed the rough bark of a tree growing with fearful rapidity all around her.

Higher and higher it rose, from her knees to her waist, and still it crept upward, in spite of her frantic attempts to tear it away from her shapely limbs. In despair she raised her trembling hands and arms to heaven to implore aid; but, ere the words were spoken, her arms were transformed into twisted branches, and her hands were filled with leaves.

Nothing human now remained of poor Dryope except her sweet, tear-stained face; but this too would soon vanish under the all-involving bark. She therefore took hasty leave of her father, sister, husband, and son, who, attracted by her first cry, had rushed to give her all the a.s.sistance in their power. The last words were quickly spoken, but none too soon, for the bark closed over the soft lips and hid the lovely features from view.

"She ceased at once to speak, and ceased to be, And all the nymph was lost within the tree: Yet latent life through her new branches reign'd, And long the plant a human heat retain'd."

Ovid (Pope's tr.).

One of Dryope's last requests had been that her child might often play beneath her shady branches; and when the pa.s.sing winds rustled through her leaves, the ancients said it was "Dryope's lone lulling of her child."

[Sidenote: Satyrs and Pan.]

The male divinities of the woods, which were also very numerous, were mostly Satyrs,--curious beings with a man's body and a goat's legs, hair, and horns. They were all pa.s.sionately fond of music and revelry, and were wont to indulge in dancing at all times and in all places. The most famous among all the Satyrs was Silenus, Bacchus' tutor; and Pan, or Consentes, G.o.d of the shepherds, and the personification of nature. The latter was the reputed son of Mercury and a charming young nymph named Penelope; and we are told, that, when his mother first beheld him, she was aghast, for he was the most homely as well as the most extraordinary little creature she had ever seen. His body was all covered with goat's hair, and his feet and ears were also those of a goat.

Amused at the sight of this grotesque little divinity, Mercury carried him off to Olympus, where all the G.o.ds turned him into ridicule. Pan was widely worshiped in olden times, however; and the ancients not only decked his altars with flowers, but sang his praises, and celebrated festivals in his honor.

"He is great and he is just, He is ever good, and must Be honored. Daffodillies, Roses, pinks, and loved lilies, Let us fling, while we sing, Ever Holy! Ever Holy! Ever honored! Ever young! The great Pan is ever sung!"

Beaumont and Fletcher.

[Sidenote: Story of Syrinx.]

Pan was equally devoted to music, the dance, and pretty nymphs. He saw one of the nymphs, Syrinx, whom he immediately loved; but unfortunately for him, she, frightened at his appearance, fled. Exasperated by her persistent avoidance of him, Pan once pursued and was about to overtake her, when she paused, and implored Gaea to protect her. The prayer was scarcely ended, when she found herself changed into a clump of reeds, which the panting lover embraced, thinking he had caught the maiden, who had stood in that very spot a few moments before.

His deception and disappointment were so severe, that they wrung from him a prolonged sigh, which, pa.s.sing through the rustling reeds, produced plaintive tones. Pan, seeing Syrinx had gone forever, took seven pieces of the reed, of unequal lengths, bound them together, and fashioned from them a musical instrument, which was called by the name of the fair nymph.

"Fair, trembling Syrinx fled Arcadian Pan, with such a fearful dread. Poor nymph!--poor Pan!--how he did weep to find Naught but a lovely sighing of the wind Along the reedy stream; a half-heard strain Full of sweet desolation--balmy pain."

Keats.

Pan was supposed to delight in slyly overtaking belated travelers and inspiring them with sudden and unfounded fears,--from him called "panic." He is generally represented with a syrinx and shepherd's crook, and a pine garland around his misshapen head.

[Sidenote: Silvan deities.]

The Romans also worshiped three other divinities of nature entirely unknown to the Greeks; i.e., Silva.n.u.s, Faunus, and Fauna, the latter's wife, who had charge over the woods and plants. Priapus, G.o.d of the shade, was also a rural deity, but his worship was only known along the sh.o.r.es of the h.e.l.lespont.

[Sidenote: Flora and Zephyrus.]

The fairest among all the lesser G.o.ds was doubtless Flora, G.o.ddess of flowers, who married Zephyrus, the gentle G.o.d of the south wind, and wandered happily with him from place to place, scattering her favors with lavish generosity. She was princ.i.p.ally worshiped by young girls, and the only offerings ever seen on her altars were fruits and garlands of beautiful flowers. Her festivals, generally celebrated in the month of May, were called the Floralia.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "A FAVORABLE OPPORTUNITY."--Thumann. (Vertumnus and Pomona.)]

"Crowds of nymphs, Soft voiced, and young, and gay, In woven baskets bringing ears of corn, Roses and pinks and violets to adorn The shrine of Flora in her early May."

Keats.

[Sidenote: Vertumnus and Pomona.]

Vertumnus and Pomona were the special divinities of the garden and orchard. They are represented with pruning knives and shears, gardening implements, and fruits and flowers. Pomona was very coy indeed, and had no desire to marry. Vertumnus, enamored of her charms, did his best to make her change her mind, but she would not even listen to his pleadings.

At last the lover had recourse to stratagem, disguised himself as an aged crone, entered Pomona's garden, and inquired how it happened that such a very charming young woman should remain so long unmarried. Then, having received a mocking answer, he began to argue with her, and finally extracted an avowal, that, among all the suitors, one alone was worthy of her love, Vertumnus. Vertumnus seized the favorable opportunity, revealed himself, and clasped her to his breast. Pomona, perceiving that she had hopelessly betrayed herself, no longer refused to wed, but allowed him to share her labors, and help her turn the luscious fruit to ripen in the autumn sunshine.

[Sidenote: Sea deities.]

The lesser divinities of the sea were almost as numerous as those of the land, and included the lovely Oceanides and Nereides, together with their male companions the Tritons, who generally formed Neptune's regal train.

[Sidenote: Story of Glaucus.]

One of the lesser sea G.o.ds, Glaucus, was once a poor fisherman, who earned his daily bread by selling the fish he caught in his nets. On one occasion he made an extra fine haul, and threw his net full of fish down upon a certain kind of gra.s.s, which the flapping fish immediately nibbled, and, as if endowed with extraordinary powers, bounded back into the waves and swam away.

Greatly surprised at this occurrence, Glaucus began chewing a few blades of this peculiar gra.s.s, and immediately felt an insane desire to plunge into the sea,--a desire which soon became so intense, that he could no longer resist it, but dived down into the water. The mere contact with the salt waves sufficed to change his nature; and swimming about comfortably in the element, where he now found himself perfectly at home, he began to explore the depths of the sea.

"'I plung'd for life or death. To interknit One's senses with so dense a breathing stuff Might seem a work of pain; so not enough Can I admire how crystal-smooth it felt, And buoyant round my limbs. At first I dwelt Whole days and days in sheer astonishment; Forgetful utterly of self-intent; Moving but with the mighty ebb and flow. Then, like a new fledg'd bird that first doth show His spreaded feathers to the morrow chill, I try'd in fear the pinions of my will. 'Twas freedom! and at once I visited The ceaseless wonders of this ocean-bed.'"

Keats.

Glaucus was worshiped most particularly by the fishermen and boatmen, whose vessels he was supposed to guard from evil, and whose nets were often filled to overflow through his intervention.

CHAPTER XXVII.

THE TROJAN WAR.

Jupiter, father of the G.o.ds, once fell deeply in love with a beautiful sea nymph named Thetis, the daughter of Nereus and Doris,-- "Thetis of the silver feet, and child Of the gray Ancient of the Deep."

Homer (Bryant's tr.).

[Sidenote: Jupiter and Thetis.]

He was very anxious indeed to marry her, but, before taking such an important step, deemed it prudent to consult the Fates, who alone could inform him whether this union would be for his happiness or not. It was very fortunate for him that he did so, for the three sisters told him that Thetis was destined to be the mother of a son who would far outshine his father.

Jupiter carefully pondered this reply, and concluded to renounce the marriage rather than run any risk of being forced to surrender his power to one greater than he. Thetis' hand he then decreed should be given in marriage to Peleus, King of Phthia, who had loved her faithfully, and had long sued in vain.

Thetis, however, was not at all anxious to accept the hand of a mere mortal after having enjoyed the attention of the G.o.ds (for Neptune also had wooed her), and demurred, until Jupiter promised his own and the G.o.ds' attendance at the marriage feast. The prospect of this signal honor reconciled the maiden, and the wedding preparations were made in the coral caves of her father, Nereus, beneath the foam-crested waves.

Thither, mindful of his promise, came Jupiter, with all the G.o.ds of Olympus.

"Then, with his Queen, the Father of the G.o.ds Came down from high Olympus' bright abodes; Came down, with all th' attending deities."

Catullus.

The guests took their seats, and pledged the bride and groom in br.i.m.m.i.n.g cups of wine,--Bacchus' wedding gift to Thetis. All was joy and merriment, when an uninvited guest suddenly appeared in the banquet-hall. All present immediately recognized Eris, or Discordia, G.o.ddess of discord, whose snaky locks, sour looks, and violent temper had caused her to be omitted from the wedding list,-- "The Abominable, that uninvited came Into the fair Peleian banquet-hall."

Tennyson.

[Sidenote: The apple of discord.]

This omission angered her, and made her determine to have her revenge by troubling the harmony which evidently reigned among all the guests. For a moment she stood beside the bountiful board, then threw upon it a golden apple, and, exhaling over the a.s.sembly her poisoned breath, she vanished. The general attention was, of course, turned upon the golden fruit, whereon the inscription "To the fairest" was clearly traced.

All the ladies were at first inclined to contend for the prize; but little by little all the claimants withdrew except Juno, Minerva, and Venus, who hotly disputed for its possession. Juno declared that the queen of the G.o.ds, in her majesty and power, surely had the best right; Minerva, that the beauty of wisdom and knowledge far surpa.s.sed external charms; and Venus smiled, and archly requested to be informed who might a.s.sert greater claims than the G.o.ddess of beauty.

The dispute grew more and more bitter, and the irate G.o.ddesses called upon the guests to award the prize to the most deserving; but the guests, one and all, refused to act as umpires, for the apple could be given to but one, and the two others would be sure to vent their anger and disappointment upon the judge who pa.s.sed over their charms in favor of a third. The final decision was therefore referred to Paris, who, although performing the lowly duties of a shepherd, was the son of Priam and Hecuba, King and Queen of Troy.

When but a babe, Paris had been exposed on a mountain to perish, because an oracle had predicted that he would cause the death of his family and the downfall of his native city. Although thus cruelly treated, he had not perished, but had been adopted by a shepherd, who made him follow his own calling.

[Sidenote: Paris and Oenone.]

When Paris reached manhood, he was a very handsome and attractive young man, and won the love of Oenone, a beautiful nymph to whom he was secretly united. Their happiness, however, was but fleeting, for the Fates had decreed that Paris' love for the fair Oenone would soon die.

"The Fate, That rules the will of Jove, had spun the days Of Paris and Oenone."

Quintus Smyrnaeus (Elton's tr.).

[Sidenote: Judgment of Paris.]

Instead of lingering by the fair nymph's side, Paris wandered off to a lonely mountain top, where the three G.o.ddesses sought him to judge their quarrel. Minerva, in glittering armor, first appeared before his dazzled eyes, and proffered the bribe of extensive wisdom if he would but give her the preference.

Juno, queen of heaven, next appeared in royal robes and insignia, and whispered that he should have great wealth and unlimited power were he only to award the prize to her.

"She to Paris made Proffer of royal power, ample rule Unquestion'd, overflowing revenue Wherewith to embellish state, 'from many a vale And river-sunder'd champaign clothed with corn, Or labor'd mine undrainable of ore. Honor,' she said, 'and homage, tax and toll, From many an inland town and haven large, Mast-throng'd beneath her shadowing citadel In gla.s.sy bays among her tallest towers.'"

Tennyson.

But all Minerva's and Juno's charms and bribes were forgotten when Venus, in her magic cestus, appeared before the judge. This artful simplicity was the result of much thought, for we are told that "Venus oft with anxious care Adjusted twice a single hair."