The myths and legends of Ancient Greece by E. M. Berens - HTML preview

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killed the terrible serpent. Eros angrily replied that his arrow should

pierce the heart of the mocker himself, and flying off to the summit of

Mount Parnassus, he drew from his quiver two darts of different

workmanship--one of gold, which had the effect of inspiring love; the other

of lead, which created aversion. Taking aim at Apollo, he pierced his

breast with the golden shaft, whilst the leaden one he discharged into the

bosom of the beautiful Daphne. The son of Leto instantly felt the most

ardent affection for the nymph, who, on her part, evinced the greatest

dislike towards her divine lover, and, at his approach, fled from him like

a hunted deer. He called upon her in the most endearing accents to stay,

but she still sped on, until at length, becoming faint with fatigue, and

fearing that she was about to succumb, she called upon the gods to come to

her aid. Hardly had she uttered her prayer before a heavy torpor seized her

limbs, and just as Apollo threw out his arms to embrace her, she became

transformed {75} into a laurel-bush. He sorrowfully crowned his head with

its leaves, and declared, that in memory of his love, it should henceforth

remain evergreen, and be held sacred to him.

He next sought the love of Marpessa, the daughter of Evenus; but though her

father approved his suit, the maiden preferred a youth named Idas, who

contrived to carry her off in a winged chariot which he had procured from

Poseidon. Apollo pursued the fugitives, whom he quickly overtook, and

forcibly seizing the bride, refused to resign her. Zeus then interfered,

and declared that Marpessa herself must decide which of her lovers should

claim her as his wife. After due reflection she accepted Idas as her

husband, judiciously concluding that although the attractions of the divine

Apollo were superior to those of her lover, it would be wiser to unite

herself to a mortal, who, growing old with herself, would be less likely to

forsake her, when advancing years should rob her of her charms.

Cassandra, daughter of Priam, king of Troy, was another object of the love

of Apollo. She feigned to return his affection, and promised to marry him,

provided he would confer upon her the gift of prophecy; but having received

the boon she desired, the treacherous maiden refused to comply with the

conditions upon which it had been granted. Incensed at her breach of faith,

Apollo, unable to recall the gift he had bestowed, rendered it useless by

causing her predictions to fail in obtaining credence.

Cassandra became

famous in history for her prophetic powers, but her prophecies were never

believed. For instance, she warned her brother Paris that if he brought

back a wife from Greece he would cause the destruction of his father's

house and kingdom; she also warned the Trojans not to admit the wooden

horse within the walls of the city, and foretold to Agamemnon all the

disasters which afterwards befell him.

Apollo afterwards married Coronis, a nymph of Larissa, and thought himself

happy in the possession of her faithful love; but once more he was doomed

to {76} disappointment, for one day his favourite bird, the crow, flew to

him with the intelligence that his wife had transferred her affections to a

youth of Haemonia. Apollo, burning with rage, instantly destroyed her with

one of his death-bringing darts. Too late he repented of his rashness, for

she had been tenderly beloved by him, and he would fain have recalled her

to life; but, although he exerted all his healing powers, his efforts were

in vain. He punished the crow for its garrulity by changing the colour of

its plumage from pure white to intense black, and forbade it to fly any

longer among the other birds.

Coronis left an infant son named Asclepius, who afterwards became god of

medicine. His powers were so extraordinary that he could not only cure the

sick, but could even restore the dead to life. At last Aïdes complained to

Zeus that the number of shades conducted to his dominions was daily

decreasing, and the great ruler of Olympus, fearing that mankind, thus

protected against sickness and death, would be able to defy the gods

themselves, killed Asclepius with one of his thunderbolts. The loss of his

highly gifted son so exasperated Apollo that, being unable to vent his

anger on Zeus, he destroyed the Cyclops, who had forged the fatal

thunderbolts. For this offence, Apollo would have been banished by Zeus to

Tartarus, but at the earnest intercession of Leto he partially relented,

and contented himself with depriving him of all power and dignity, and

imposing on him a temporary servitude in the house of Admetus, king of

Thessaly. Apollo faithfully served his royal master for nine years in the

humble capacity of a shepherd, and was treated by him with every kindness

and consideration. During the period of his service the king sought the

hand of Alcestis, the beautiful daughter of Pelias, son of Poseidon; but

her father declared that he would only resign her to the suitor who should

succeed in yoking a lion and a wild boar to his chariot.

By the aid of his

divine herdsman, Admetus accomplished this difficult task, and gained his

bride. Nor was this the only favour which the king received from the exiled

god, for Apollo obtained from {77} the Fates the gift of immortality for

his benefactor, on condition that when his last hour approached, some

member of his own family should be willing to die in his stead. When the

fatal hour arrived, and Admetus felt that he was at the point of death, he

implored his aged parents to yield to him their few remaining days. But

"life is sweet" even to old age, and they both refused to make the

sacrifice demanded of them. Alcestis, however, who had secretly devoted

herself to death for her husband, was seized with a mortal sickness, which

kept pace with his rapid recovery. The devoted wife breathed her last in

the arms of Admetus, and he had just consigned her to the tomb, when

Heracles chanced to come to the palace. Admetus held the rites of

hospitality so sacred, that he at first kept silence with regard to his

great bereavement; but as soon as his friend heard what had occurred, he

bravely descended into the tomb, and when death came to claim his prey, he

exerted his marvellous strength, and held him in his arms, until he

promised to restore the beautiful and heroic queen to the bosom of her

family.

Whilst pursuing the peaceful life of a shepherd, Apollo formed a strong

friendship with two youths named Hyacinthus and Cyparissus, but the great

favour shown to them by the god did not suffice to shield them from

misfortune. The former was one day throwing the discus with Apollo, when,

running too eagerly to take up the one thrown by the god, he was struck on

the head with it and killed on the spot. Apollo was overcome with grief at

the sad end of his young favourite, but being unable to restore him to

life, he changed him into the flower called after him the Hyacinth.

Cyparissus had the misfortune to kill by accident one of Apollo's favourite

stags, which so preyed on his mind that he gradually pined away, and died

of a broken heart. He was transformed by the god into a cypress-tree, which

owes its name to this story.

After these sad occurrences Apollo quitted Thessaly and repaired to

Phrygia, in Asia Minor, where he met Poseidon, who, like himself, was in

exile, and condemned {78} to a temporary servitude on earth. The two gods

now entered the service of Laomedon, king of Troy, Apollo undertaking to

tend his flocks, and Poseidon to build the walls of the city. But Apollo

also contributed his assistance in the erection of those wonderful walls,

and, by the aid of his marvellous musical powers, the labours of his

fellow-worker, Poseidon, were rendered so light and easy that his otherwise

arduous task advanced with astonishing celerity; for, as the master-hand of

the god of music grasped the chords of his lyre,[30] the huge blocks of

stone moved of their own accord, adjusting themselves with the utmost

nicety into the places designed for them.

But though Apollo was so renowned in the art of music, there were two

individuals who had the effrontery to consider themselves equal to him in

this respect, and, accordingly, each challenged him to compete with them in

a musical contest. These were Marsyas and Pan. Marsyas was a satyr, who,

having picked up the flute which Athene had thrown away in disgust,

discovered, to his great delight and astonishment, that, in consequence of

its having touched the lips of a goddess, it played of itself in the most

charming manner. Marsyas, who was a great lover of music, and much beloved

on this account by all the elf-like denizens of the woods and glens, was so

intoxicated with joy at this discovery, that he foolishly challenged Apollo

to compete with him in a musical contest. The challenge being accepted, the

Muses were chosen umpires, and it was decided that the unsuccessful

candidate should suffer the punishment of being flayed alive. For a long

time the merits of both claimants remained so equally balanced, that it was

impossible to award the palm of victory to either, seeing which, Apollo,

resolved to conquer, added the sweet tones of his melodious voice to the

strains of his lyre, {79} and this at once turned the scale in his favour.

The unhappy Marsyas being defeated, had to undergo the terrible penalty,

and his untimely fate was universally lamented; indeed the Satyrs and

Dryads, his companions, wept so incessantly at his fate, that their tears,

uniting together, formed a river in Phrygia which is still known by the

name of Marsyas.

The result of the contest with Pan was by no means of so serious a

character. The god of shepherds having affirmed that he could play more

skilfully on his flute of seven reeds (the syrinx or Pan's pipe), than

Apollo on his world-renowned lyre, a contest ensued, in which Apollo was

pronounced the victor by all the judges appointed to decide between the

rival candidates. Midas, king of Phrygia, alone demurred at this decision,

having the bad taste to prefer the uncouth tones of the Pan's pipe to the

refined melodies of Apollo's lyre. Incensed at the obstinacy and stupidity

of the Phrygian king, Apollo punished him by giving him the ears of an ass.

Midas, horrified at being thus disfigured, determined to hide his disgrace

from his subjects by means of a cap; his barber, however, could not be kept

in ignorance of the fact, and was therefore bribed with rich gifts never to

reveal it. Finding, however, that he could not keep the secret any longer,

he dug a hole in the ground into which he whispered it; then closing up the

aperture he returned home, feeling greatly relieved at having thus eased

his mind of its burden. But after all, this very humiliating secret was

revealed to the world, for some reeds which sprung up from the spot

murmured incessantly, as they waved to and fro in the wind: "King Midas has

the ears of an ass."

In the sad and beautiful story of Niobe, daughter of Tantalus, and wife of

Amphion, king of Thebes, we have another instance of the severe punishments

meted out by Apollo to those who in any way incurred his displeasure. Niobe

was the proud mother of seven sons and seven daughters, and exulting in the

number of her children, she, upon one occasion, ridiculed the worship of

Leto, {80} because she had but one son and daughter, and desired the

Thebans, for the future, to give to her the honours and sacrifices which

they had hitherto offered to the mother of Apollo and Artemis. The

sacrilegious words had scarcely passed her lips before Apollo called upon

his sister Artemis to assist him in avenging the insult offered to their

mother, and soon their invisible arrows sped through the air. Apollo slew

all the sons, and Artemis had already slain all the daughters save one, the

youngest and best beloved, whom Niobe clasped in her arms, when the

agonized mother implored the enraged deities to leave her, at least, one

out of all her beautiful children; but, even as she prayed, the deadly

arrow reached the heart of this child also. Meanwhile the unhappy father,

unable to bear the loss of his children, had destroyed himself, and his

dead body lay beside the lifeless corpse of his favourite son. Widowed and

childless, the heart-broken mother sat among her dead, and the gods, in

pity for her unutterable woe, turned her into a stone, which they

transferred to Siphylus, her native Phrygian mountain, where it still

continues to shed tears.

[Illustration]

The punishment of Niobe forms the subject of a magnificent marble group,

which was found at Rome in the year 1553, and is now in the gallery of

Uffizi, at Florence.

The renowned singer Orpheus was the son of Apollo and Calliope, the muse of

epic poetry, and, as might be expected with parents so highly gifted, was

endowed with most distinguished intellectual qualifications. He was a poet,

a teacher of the religious doctrines known as the Orphic mysteries, and a

great musician, having inherited from his father an extraordinary genius

for music. {81} When he sang to the sweet tones of his lyre, he charmed all

nature, and summoned round him the wild beasts of the forests, who, under

the influence of his music, became tame and gentle as lambs. The madly

rushing torrents stopped their rapid course, and the very mountains and

trees moved from their places at the sound of his entrancing melodies.

Orpheus became united to a lovely nymph named Eurydice, the daughter of the

sea-god Nereus, whom he fondly loved. She was no less attached to him, and

their married life was full of joy and happiness. But it was only

short-lived; for Aristæus,[31] the half-brother of Orpheus, having fallen

in love with the beautiful Eurydice, forcibly endeavoured to take her from

her husband, and as she fled across some fields to elude his pursuit, she

was bitten in the foot by a venomous snake, which lay concealed in the long

grass. Eurydice died of the wound, and her sorrowing husband filled the

groves and valleys with his piteous and unceasing lamentations.

His longing to behold her once more became at last so unconquerable, that

he determined to brave the horrors of the lower world, in order to entreat

Aïdes to restore to him his beloved wife. Armed only with his golden lyre,

the gift of Apollo, he descended into the gloomy depths of Hades, where his

heavenly music arrested for a while the torments of the unhappy sufferers.

The stone of Sisyphus remained motionless; Tantalus forgot his perpetual

thirst; the wheel of Ixion ceased to revolve; and even the Furies shed

tears, and withheld for a time their persecutions.

Undismayed at the scenes

of horror and suffering which met his view on every side, he pursued his

way until he arrived at the palace of Aïdes. Presenting himself before the

throne on which sat the stony-hearted king and his consort Persephone,

Orpheus recounted his woes to the sound of his lyre.

Moved to pity by his

sweet strains, they listened to his {82} melancholy story, and consented to

release Eurydice on condition that he should not look upon her until they

reached the upper world. Orpheus gladly promised to comply with this

injunction, and, followed by Eurydice, ascended the steep and gloomy path

which led to the realms of life and light. All went well until he was just

about to pass the extreme limits of Hades, when, forgetting for the moment

the hard condition, he turned to convince himself that his beloved wife was

really behind him. The glance was fatal, and destroyed all his hopes of

happiness; for, as he yearningly stretched out his arms to embrace her, she

was caught back, and vanished from his sight for ever.

The grief of Orpheus

at this second loss was even more intense than before, and he now avoided

all human society. In vain did the nymphs, his once chosen companions,

endeavour to win him back to his accustomed haunts; their power to charm

was gone, and music was now his sole consolation. He wandered forth alone,

choosing the wildest and most secluded paths, and the hills and vales

resounded with his pathetic melodies. At last he happened to cross the path

of some Thracian women, who were performing the wild rites of Dionysus

(Bacchus), and in their mad fury at his refusing to join them, they

furiously attacked him, and tore him in pieces. In pity for his unhappy

fate, the Muses collected his remains, which they buried at the foot of

Mount Olympus, and the nightingale warbled a funeral dirge over his grave.

His head was thrown into the river Hebrus, and as it floated down the

stream, the lips still continued to murmur the beloved name of Eurydice.

The chief seat of the worship of Apollo was at Delphi, and here was the

most magnificent of all his temples, the foundation of which reaches far

beyond all historical knowledge, and which contained immense riches, the

offerings of kings and private persons, who had received favourable replies

from the oracle. The Greeks believed Delphi to be the central point of the

earth, because two eagles sent forth by Zeus, one from the east, the other

{83} from the west, were said to have arrived there at the same moment.

The Pythian games, celebrated in honour of the victory of Apollo over the

Python, took place at Delphi every four years. At the first celebration of

these games, gods, goddesses, and heroes contended for the prizes, which

were at first of gold or silver, but consisted, in later times, of simple

laurel wreaths.

On account of its being the place of his birth, the whole island of Delos

was consecrated to Apollo, where he was worshipped with great solemnity;

the greatest care was taken to preserve the sanctity of the spot, for which

reason no one was suffered to be buried there. At the foot of Mount Cynthus

was a splendid temple of Apollo which possessed an oracle, and was enriched

with magnificent offerings from all parts of Greece.

Even foreign nations

held this island sacred, for when the Persians passed it on their way to

attack Greece, they not only sailed by, leaving it uninjured, but sent rich

presents to the temple. Games, called Delia, instituted by Theseus, were

celebrated at Delos every four years.

A festival termed the Gymnopedæa was held at Sparta in honour of Apollo, in

which boys sang the praises of the gods, and of the three hundred

Lacedæmonians who fell at the battle of Thermopylæ.

Wolves and hawks were sacrificed to Apollo, and the birds sacred to him

were the hawk, raven, and swan.

ROMAN APOLLO.

The worship of Apollo never occupied the all-important position in Rome

which it held in Greece, nor was it introduced till a comparatively late

period. There was no sanctuary erected to this divinity until B.C. 430,

when the Romans, in order to avert a plague, built a temple in his honour;

but we do not find the worship of Apollo becoming in any way prominent

until the time of Augustus, who, having called upon this god for aid before

the famous battle of Actium, ascribed the victory which he {84} gained, to

his influence, and accordingly erected a temple there, which he enriched

with a portion of the spoil.

Augustus afterwards built another temple in honour of Apollo, on the

Palatine Hill, in which at the foot of his statue, were deposited two gilt

chests, containing the Sibylline oracles. These oracles were collected to

replace the Sibylline books originally preserved in the temple of Jupiter,

which were destroyed when that edifice was burned.

[Illustration]

The Sibyls were maidens who had received the gift of prophecy, and the

privilege of living to an incredible age. One of these Sibyls (known as the

Cumæan) appeared to Tarquinius Superbus, the last king of Rome, offering

for sale nine books, which she informed him had been written by herself.

Not knowing who she was, Tarquin refused to buy them, upon which she burned

three, and returned with six, demanding the same price as before. Being

again driven away as an impostor, she again retired and burned three more,

returning with the remaining three, for which she still asked the same

price as at first. Tarquin, amazed at her inconsistency, now consulted the

Augurs, who blamed him for not having bought the nine books when they were

first offered to him, and desired him to secure the remaining three, at

whatever price they were to be had. He, accordingly, purchased the volumes,

which were found to contain predictions of great importance to the Romans.

After the disposal of the books, the Sibyl vanished, and was seen no more.

The most beautiful and renowned of all the statues of Apollo now in

existence, is that known as the Apollo Belvedere, which was found in 1503

among the ruins of {85} ancient Antium. It was purchased by Pope Julius

II., who removed it to the Belvedere of the Vatican, from whence it takes

its name, and where it has been, for more than three hundred years, the

admiration of the world. When Rome was taken, and plundered by the French,

this celebrated statue was transported to Paris, and placed in the museum

there, but in 1815 it was restored to its former place in the Vatican. The

attitude of the figure, which is more than seven feet high, is inimitable

in its freedom, grace, and majesty. The forehead is noble and intellectual,

and the whole countenance so exquisite in its beauty, that one pauses

spell-bound to gaze on so perfect a conception. The god has a very youthful

appearance, as is usual in all his representations, and with the exception

of a short mantle which falls from his shoulders, is unclothed. He stands

against the trunk of a tree, up which a serpent is creeping, and his left

arm is outstretched, as though about to punish.

HECATE.

Hecate would appear to have been originally a moon-goddess worshipped by

the Thracians. She became confounded, and eventually identified with Selene

and Persephone, and is one of those divinities of whom the ancients had

various conflicting accounts.

Hecate was the daughter of Perses and "gold-wreathed"

Astræa (the starry

night[32]), and her sway extended over earth, heaven, and hell, for which

reason she is represented in works of art as a triple divinity, having

three female bodies, all young and beautiful, and united together.

In later times, when this divinity becomes identified with Persephone, she

is supposed to inhabit the lower world as a malignant deity, and

henceforward it is the gloomy, awe-inspiring side of her character which

alone {86} develops itself. She now presides over all practices connected

with witchcraft and enchantments, haunts sepulchres, and the point where

two roads cross, and lonely spots where murders have been committed. She

was supposed to be connected with the appearance of ghosts and spectres, to

possess unlimited influence over the powers of the lower world, and to be

able to lay to rest unearthly apparitions by her magic spells and

incantations.

Hecate appears as a gigantic woman, bearing a torch and a sword. Her feet

and hair are formed of snakes, and her passage is accompanied by voices of

thunder, weird shrieks and yells, and the deep baying and howling of dogs.

Her favour was propitiated by offerings and sacrifices, principally

consisting of black lambs. Her festivals were celebrated at night, by

torchlight, when these animals were offered to her, accompanied by many