upon which Hermes, exerting his divine power, changed him into a lump of
touchstone, as a {120} punishment for his treachery and avarice. Hermes now
killed two of the oxen, which he sacrificed to himself and the other gods,
concealing the remainder in the cave. He then carefully extinguished the
fire, and, after throwing his twig shoes into the river Alpheus, returned
to Cyllene.
Apollo, by means of his all-seeing power, soon discovered who it was that
had robbed him, and hastening to Cyllene, demanded restitution of his
property. On his complaining to Maia of her son's conduct, she pointed to
the innocent babe then lying, apparently fast asleep, in his cradle,
whereupon, Apollo angrily aroused the pretended sleeper, and charged him
with the theft; but the child stoutly denied all knowledge of it, and so
cleverly did he play his part, that he even inquired in the most naive
manner what sort of animals cows were. Apollo threatened to throw him into
Tartarus if he would not confess the truth, but all to no purpose. At last,
he seized the babe in his arms, and brought him into the presence of his
august father, who was seated in the council chamber of the gods. Zeus
listened to the charge made by Apollo, and then sternly desired Hermes to
say where he had hidden the cattle. The child, who was still in
swaddling-clothes, looked up bravely into his father's face and said, "Now,
do I look capable of driving away a herd of cattle; I, who was only born
yesterday, and whose feet are much too soft and tender to tread in rough
places? Until this moment, I lay in sweet sleep on my mother's bosom, and
have never even crossed the threshold of our dwelling.
You know well that I
am not guilty; but, if you wish, I will affirm it by the most solemn
oaths." As the child stood before him, looking the picture of innocence,
Zeus could not refrain from smiling at his cleverness and cunning, but,
being perfectly aware of his guilt, he commanded him to conduct Apollo to
the cave where he had concealed the herd, and Hermes, seeing that further
subterfuge was useless, unhesitatingly obeyed. But when the divine shepherd
was about to drive his cattle back into Pieria, Hermes, as though by
chance, touched the chords of his {121} lyre. Hitherto Apollo had heard
nothing but the music of his own three-stringed lyre and the syrinx, or
Pan's pipe, and, as he listened entranced to the delightful strains of this
new instrument, his longing to possess it became so great, that he gladly
offered the oxen in exchange, promising at the same time, to give Hermes
full dominion over flocks and herds, as well as over horses, and all the
wild animals of the woods and forests. The offer was accepted, and, a
reconciliation being thus effected between the brothers, Hermes became
henceforth god of herdsmen, whilst Apollo devoted himself enthusiastically
to the art of music.
[Illustration]
They now proceeded together to Olympus, where Apollo introduced Hermes as
his chosen friend and companion, and, having made him swear by the Styx,
that he would never steal his lyre or bow, nor invade his sanctuary at
Delphi, he presented him with the Caduceus, or golden wand. This wand was
surmounted by wings, and on presenting it to Hermes, Apollo informed him
that it possessed the faculty of uniting in love, all beings divided by
hate. Wishing to prove the truth of this assertion, Hermes threw it down
between two snakes which were fighting, whereupon the angry combatants
clasped each other in a loving embrace, and curling round the staff,
remained ever after permanently attached to it. The wand itself typified
power; the serpents, wisdom; and the wings, despatch--
all qualities
characteristic of a trustworthy ambassador.
The young god was now presented by his father with a winged silver cap
(Petasus), and also with silver wings for his feet (Talaria), and was
forthwith appointed herald of the gods, and conductor of shades to Hades,
which office had hitherto been filled by Aïdes.
As messenger of the gods, we find him employed on all occasions requiring
special skill, tact, or despatch. Thus he conducts Hera, Athene, and
Aphrodite to Paris, leads Priam to Achilles to demand the body of Hector,
{122} binds Prometheus to Mount Caucasus, secures Ixion to the eternally
revolving wheel, destroys Argus, the hundred-eyed guardian of Io, &c. &c.
As conductor of shades, Hermes was always invoked by the dying to grant
them a safe and speedy passage across the Styx. He also possessed the power
of bringing back departed spirits to the upper world, and was, therefore,
the mediator between the living and the dead.
The poets relate many amusing stories of the youthful tricks played by this
mischief-loving god upon the other immortals. For instance, he had the
audacity to extract the Medusa's head from the shield of Athene, which he
playfully attached to the back of Hephæstus; he also stole the girdle of
Aphrodite; deprived Artemis of her arrows, and Ares of his spear, but these
acts were always performed with such graceful dexterity, combined with such
perfect good humour, that even the gods and goddesses he thus provoked,
were fain to pardon him, and he became a universal favourite with them all.
It is said that Hermes was one day flying over Athens, when, looking down
into the city, he beheld a number of maidens returning in solemn procession
from the temple of Pallas-Athene. Foremost among them was Herse, the
beautiful daughter of king Cecrops, and Hermes was so struck with her
exceeding loveliness that he determined to seek an interview with her. He
accordingly presented himself at the royal palace, and begged her sister
Agraulos to favour his suit; but, being of an avaricious turn of mind, she
refused to do so without the payment of an enormous sum of money. It did
not take the messenger of the gods long to obtain the means of fulfilling
this condition, and he soon returned with a well-filled purse. But
meanwhile Athene, to punish the cupidity of Agraulos, had caused the demon
of envy to take possession of her, and the consequence was, that, being
unable to contemplate the happiness of her sister, she sat down before the
door, and resolutely refused to allow Hermes to enter.
He tried every
persuasion and blandishment in his power, but she still remained obstinate.
At last, his patience {123} being exhausted, he changed her into a mass of
black stone, and, the obstacle to his wishes being removed, he succeeded in
persuading Herse to become his wife.
[Illustration]
In his statues, Hermes is represented as a beardless youth, with broad
chest and graceful but muscular limbs; the face is handsome and
intelligent, and a genial smile of kindly benevolence plays round the
delicately chiselled lips.
As messenger of the gods he wears the Petasus and Talaria, and bears in his
hand the Caduceus or herald's staff.
As god of eloquence, he is often represented with chains of gold hanging
from his lips, whilst, as the patron of merchants, he bears a purse in his
hand.
The wonderful excavations in Olympia, to which allusion has already been
made, have brought to light an exquisite marble group of Hermes and the
infant Bacchus, by Praxiteles. In this great work of art, Hermes is
represented as a young and handsome man, who is looking down kindly and
affectionately at the child resting on his arm, but unfortunately nothing
remains of the infant save the right hand, which is laid lovingly on the
shoulder of his protector.
The sacrifices to Hermes consisted of incense, honey, cakes, pigs, and
especially lambs and young goats. As god of eloquence, the tongues of
animals were sacrificed to him.
MERCURY.
Mercury was the Roman god of commerce and gain. We find mention of a temple
having been erected to him {124} near the Circus Maximus as early as B.C.
495; and he had also a temple and a sacred fount near the Porta Capena.
Magic powers were ascribed to the latter, and on the festival of Mercury,
which took place on the 25th of May, it was the custom for merchants to
sprinkle themselves and their merchandise with this holy water, in order to
insure large profits from their wares.
The Fetiales (Roman priests whose duty it was to act as guardians of the
public faith) refused to recognize the identity of Mercury with Hermes, and
ordered him to be represented with a sacred branch as the emblem of peace,
instead of the Caduceus. In later times, however, he was completely
identified with the Greek Hermes.
DIONYSUS (BACCHUS).
Dionysus, also called Bacchus (from _bacca_, berry), was the god of wine,
and the personification of the blessings of Nature in general.
[Illustration]
The worship of this divinity, which is supposed to have been introduced
into Greece from Asia (in all probability from India), first took root in
Thrace, whence it gradually spread into other parts of Greece.
Dionysus was the son of Zeus and Semele, and was snatched by Zeus from the
devouring flames in which his mother perished, when he appeared to her in
all the splendour of his divine glory. The motherless child was intrusted
to the charge of Hermes, who conveyed him to Semele's sister, Ino. But
Hera, still implacable in her vengeance, visited Athamas, the husband of
Ino, with madness, {125} and the child's life being no longer safe, he was
transferred to the fostering care of the nymphs of Mount Nysa. An aged
satyr named Silenus, the son of Pan, took upon himself the office of
guardian and preceptor to the young god, who, in his turn, became much
attached to his kind tutor; hence we see Silenus always figuring as one of
the chief personages in the various expeditions of the wine-god.
Dionysus passed an innocent and uneventful childhood, roaming through the
woods and forests, surrounded by nymphs, satyrs, and shepherds. During one
of these rambles, he found a fruit growing wild, of a most refreshing and
cooling nature. This was the vine, from which he subsequently learnt to
extract a juice which formed a most exhilarating beverage. After his
companions had partaken freely of it, they felt their whole being pervaded
by an unwonted sense of pleasurable excitement, and gave full vent to their
overflowing exuberance, by shouting, singing, and dancing. Their numbers
were soon swelled by a crowd, eager to taste a beverage productive of such
extraordinary results, and anxious to join in the worship of a divinity to
whom they were indebted for this new enjoyment.
Dionysus, on his part,
seeing how agreeably his discovery had affected his immediate followers,
resolved to extend the boon to mankind in general. He saw that wine, used
in moderation, would enable man to enjoy a happier, and more sociable
existence, and that, under its invigorating influence, the sorrowful might,
for a while, forget their grief and the sick their pain.
He accordingly
gathered round him his zealous followers, and they set forth on their
travels, planting the vine and teaching its cultivation wherever they went.
We now behold Dionysus at the head of a large army composed of men, women,
fauns, and satyrs, all bearing in their hands the Thyrsus (a staff entwined
with vine-branches surmounted by a fir-cone), and clashing together cymbals
and other musical instruments. Seated in a chariot drawn by panthers, and
accompanied by thousands of enthusiastic followers, Dionysus made a
triumphal {126} progress through Syria, Egypt, Arabia, India, &c.,
conquering all before him, founding cities, and establishing on every side
a more civilized and sociable mode of life among the inhabitants of the
various countries through which he passed.
When Dionysus returned to Greece from his Eastern expedition, he
encountered great opposition from Lycurgus, king of Thrace, and Pentheus,
king of Thebes. The former, highly disapproving of the wild revels which
attended the worship of the wine-god, drove away his attendants, the nymphs
of Nysa, from that sacred mountain, and so effectually intimidated
Dionysus, that he precipitated himself into the sea, where he was received
into the arms of the ocean-nymph, Thetis. But the impious king bitterly
expiated his sacrilegious conduct. He was punished with the loss of his
reason, and, during one of his mad paroxysms, killed his own son Dryas,
whom he mistook for a vine.
Pentheus, king of Thebes, seeing his subjects so completely infatuated by
the riotous worship of this new divinity, and fearing the demoralizing
effects of the unseemly nocturnal orgies held in honour of the wine-god,
strictly prohibited his people from taking any part in the wild
Bacchanalian revels. Anxious to save him from the consequences of his
impiety, Dionysus appeared to him under the form of a youth in the king's
train, and earnestly warned him to desist from his denunciations. But the
well-meant admonition failed in its purpose, for Pentheus only became more
incensed at this interference, and, commanding Dionysus to be cast into
prison, caused the most cruel preparations to be made for his immediate
execution. But the god soon freed himself from his ignoble confinement, for
scarcely had his jailers departed, ere the prison-doors opened of
themselves, and, bursting asunder his iron chains, he escaped to rejoin his
devoted followers.
Meanwhile, the mother of the king and her sisters, inspired with
Bacchanalian fury, had repaired to Mount Cithæron, in order to join the
worshippers of the {127} wine-god in those dreadful orgies which were
solemnized exclusively by women, and at which no man was allowed to be
present. Enraged at finding his commands thus openly disregarded by the
members of his own family, Pentheus resolved to witness for himself the
excesses of which he had heard such terrible reports, and for this purpose,
concealed himself behind a tree on Mount Cithæron; but his hiding-place
being discovered, he was dragged out by the half-maddened crew of
Bacchantes and, horrible to relate, he was torn in pieces by his own mother
Agave and her two sisters.
An incident which occurred to Dionysus on one of his travels has been a
favourite subject with the classic poets. One day, as some Tyrrhenian
pirates approached the shores of Greece, they beheld Dionysus, in the form
of a beautiful youth, attired in radiant garments.
Thinking to secure a
rich prize, they seized him, bound him, and conveyed him on board their
vessel, resolved to carry him with them to Asia and there sell him as a
slave. But the fetters dropped from his limbs, and the pilot, who was the
first to perceive the miracle, called upon his companions to restore the
youth carefully to the spot whence they had taken him, assuring them that
he was a god, and that adverse winds and storms would, in all probability,
result from their impious conduct. But, refusing to part with their
prisoner, they set sail for the open sea. Suddenly, to the alarm of all on
board, the ship stood still, masts and sails were covered with clustering
vines and wreaths of ivy-leaves, streams of fragrant wine inundated the
vessel, and heavenly strains of music were heard around.
The terrified
crew, too late repentant, crowded round the pilot for protection, and
entreated him to steer for the shore. But the hour of retribution had
arrived. Dionysus assumed the form of a lion, whilst beside him appeared a
bear, which, with a terrific roar, rushed upon the captain and tore him in
pieces; the sailors, in an agony of terror, leaped overboard, and were
changed into dolphins. The discreet and pious steersman was alone permitted
to escape the fate of his companions, {128} and to him Dionysus, who had
resumed his true form, addressed words of kind and affectionate
encouragement, and announced his name and dignity. They now set sail, and
Dionysus desired the pilot to land him at the island of Naxos, where he
found the lovely Ariadne, daughter of Minos, king of Crete. She had been
abandoned by Theseus on this lonely spot, and, when Dionysus now beheld
her, was lying fast asleep on a rock, worn out with sorrow and weeping.
Wrapt in admiration, the god stood gazing at the beautiful vision before
him, and when she at length unclosed her eyes, he revealed himself to her,
and, in gentle tones, sought to banish her grief.
Grateful for his kind
sympathy, coming as it did at a moment when she had deemed herself forsaken
and friendless, she gradually regained her former serenity, and, yielding
to his entreaties, consented to become his wife.
Dionysus, having established his worship in various parts of the world,
descended to the realm of shades in search of his ill-fated mother, whom he
conducted to Olympus, where, under the name of Thyone, she was admitted
into the assembly of the immortal gods.
Among the most noted worshippers of Dionysus was Midas,[46] the wealthy
king of Phrygia, the same who, as already related, gave judgment against
Apollo. Upon one occasion Silenus, the preceptor and friend of Dionysus,
being in an intoxicated condition, strayed into the rose-gardens of this
monarch, where he was found by some of the king's attendants, who bound him
with roses and conducted him to the presence of their royal master. Midas
treated the aged satyr with the greatest consideration, and, after
entertaining him hospitably for ten days, led him back to Dionysus, who was
so grateful for the kind attention shown to his old friend, that he offered
to grant Midas any favour he chose to demand; whereupon the avaricious
monarch, not content with his boundless wealth, and still thirsting for
more, desired that everything he touched might turn to gold. The request
was {129} complied with in so literal a sense, that the now wretched Midas
bitterly repented his folly and cupidity, for, when the pangs of hunger
assailed him, and he essayed to appease his cravings, the food became gold
ere he could swallow it; as he raised the cup of wine to his parched lips,
the sparkling draught was changed into the metal he had so coveted, and
when at length, wearied and faint, he stretched his aching frame on his
hitherto luxurious couch, this also was transformed into the substance
which had now become the curse of his existence. The despairing king at
last implored the god to take back the fatal gift, and Dionysus, pitying
his unhappy plight, desired him to bathe in the river Pactolus, a small
stream in Lydia, in order to lose the power which had become the bane of
his life. Midas joyfully obeying the injunction, was at once freed from the
consequences of his avaricious demand, and from this time forth the sands
of the river Pactolus have ever contained grains of gold.
Representations of Dionysus are of two kinds. According to the earliest
conceptions, he appears as a grave and dignified man in the prime of life;
his countenance is earnest, thoughtful, and benevolent; he wears a full
beard, and is draped from head to foot in the garb of an Eastern monarch.
But the sculptors of a later period represent him as a youth of singular
beauty, though of somewhat effeminate appearance; the expression of the
countenance is gentle and winning; the limbs are supple and gracefully
moulded; and the hair, which is adorned by a wreath of vine or ivy leaves,
falls over the shoulders in long curls. In one hand he bears the Thyrsus,
and in the other a drinking-cup with two handles, these being his
distinguishing attributes. He is often represented riding on a panther, or
seated in a chariot drawn by lions, tigers, panthers, or lynxes.
Being the god of wine, which is calculated to promote sociability, he
rarely appears alone, but is usually accompanied by Bacchantes, satyrs, and
mountain-nymphs.
The finest modern representation of Ariadne is that by Danneker, at
Frankfort-on-the-Maine. In this statue she {130} appears riding on a
panther; the beautiful upturned face inclines slightly over the left
shoulder; the features are regular and finely cut, and a wreath of
ivy-leaves encircles the well-shaped head. With her right hand she
gracefully clasps the folds of drapery which fall away negligently from her
rounded form, whilst the other rests lightly and caressingly on the head of
the animal.
Dionysus was regarded as the patron of the drama, and at the state festival
of the Dionysia, which was celebrated with great pomp in the city of
Athens, dramatic entertainments took place in his honour, for which all the
renowned Greek dramatists of antiquity composed their immortal tragedies
and comedies.
He was also a prophetic divinity, and possessed oracles, the principal of
which was that on Mount Rhodope in Thrace.
The tiger, lynx, panther, dolphin, serpent, and ass were sacred to this
god. His favourite plants were the vine, ivy, laurel, and asphodel. His
sacrifices consisted of goats, probably on account of their being
destructive to vineyards.
BACCHUS OR LIBER.
The Romans had a divinity called Liber who presided over vegetation, and
was, on this account, identified with the Greek Dionysus, and worshipped
under the name of Bacchus.
The festival of Liber, called the Liberalia, was celebrated on the 17th of
March.
AÏDES (PLUTO).
Aïdes, Aïdoneus, or Hades, was the son of Cronus and Rhea, and the youngest
brother of Zeus and Poseidon. He was the ruler of that subterranean region
called Erebus, which was inhabited by the shades or spirits of the dead,
and also by those dethroned and exiled deities who had been vanquished by
Zeus and his allies. Aïdes, the grim and gloomy monarch of this lower
world, was the {131} successor of Erebus, that ancient primeval divinity
after whom these realms were called.
The early Greeks regarded Aïdes in the light of their greatest foe, and
Homer tells us that he was "of all the gods the most detested," being in
their eyes the grim robber who stole from them their nearest and dearest,
and eventually deprived each of them of their share in terrestrial
existence. His name was so feared that it was never mentioned by mortals,
who, when they invoked him, struck the earth with their hands, and in
sacrificing to him turned away their faces.
The belief of the people with regard to a future state was, in the Homeric
age, a sad and cheerless one. It was supposed that when a mortal ceased to
exist, his spirit tenanted the shadowy outline of the human form it had
quitted. These shadows, or shades as they were called, were driven by Aïdes
into his dominions, where they passed their time, some in brooding over the
vicissitudes of fortune which they had experienced on earth, others in
regretting the lost pleasures they had enjoyed in life, but all in a
condition of semi-consciousness, from which the intellect could only be
roused to full activity by drinking of the blood of the sacrifices offered
to their shades by living friends, which, for a time, endowed them with
their former mental vigour. The only beings supposed to enjoy any happiness
in a future state were the heroes, whose acts of daring and deeds of