Part 5

He had temples and statues in every country, particularly in Egypt, Greece, and Italy; the most famous was that of Delos, where they celebrated the Pythian games, that of Soractes, where the priests worshipped by treading with their naked feet on burning coals, though without feeling pain, and that of Delphi, in which the youth of the place offered to the gods their locks of hair, possibly because this offering was most difficult to the vanity of youth. Apollo made known his oracles through the medium of a sibyl. This was a female, named also a Pythoness, on account of her seat being formed of massive gold resembling the skin of the serpent Python. The history of the tripod will be found to afford much interest. The fishermen who had found it in their nets, sought the oracle to consult its responses. This was to offer it to the wisest man in Greece. They presented it to Thales, who had told them that the most difficult of all human knowledge was the art of knowing ourselves. Thales offered the tripod to Bias. When the enemy was reducing his native city to ashes, he withdrew, leaving behind him his wealth, saying, "I carry all that is worthy within myself." After frequent adventures, and passing into the possession of many, the tripod finally returned to Thales, and was deposited in the temple; where, as we have seen, it served the sibyl for a seat. {47} This story shows us at a glance, the principles and the conduct of the greatest philosophers of Greece. These sages who considered philosophy to consist in the science of practising virtue, and living happily, endeavoured to show by the adventures of the tripod that, though the way was sometimes different, the end was the same.

The sibyl delivered the answer of the god to such as came to consult the oracle, and while the divine inspiration was on her, her eyes sparkled, her hair stood on end, and a shivering ran through her body. In this convulsive state, she spoke the oracles of the deity, often with loud howlings and cries, and her articulations were taken down by the priest, and set in order. Sometimes the spirit of inspiration was more gentle, and not always violent, yet Plutarch mentions one of the priestesses who was thrown into such excessive fury, that not only those who consulted the oracle, but also the priests who conducted her to the sacred tripod, and attended her during her inspiration, were terrified and forsook the temple; and so violent was the fit, that she continued for some days in the most agonizing situation, and at last died.

It was always required that those who consulted this oracle should make presents to Apollo, and from thence arose the opulence, splendour, and magnificence, of the temple of Delphi.

There were other temples of Apollo more celebrated, such as that at Palmyra, which was constructed of the most gigantic proportions; and for which nothing was spared to give it a magnificence hitherto unknown. Augustus, who pretended to be the son of Apollo, built a temple to him on Mount Palatine. Delian feasts were those which the Athenian, and the other Greek states celebrated every four years at Delos.

The history of the Muses is so closely allied to that of Apollo that we shall present some of their adventures in this part of our work.

The first is the struggle which the Muses maintained against the nine daughters of Pierus, King of Macedon, who dared to dispute with them the palm of singing; being overcome, they were turned into magpies, and since their transformation, they have preserved the talent so dear to beauty, of being able in many words to express very little.

One day when the Muses were distant from their place of abode, a storm surprised them, and they took shelter in the palace of Pyrenaeus: but scarcely had they entered, when the tyrant shut the {48} gates, and sought to offer them insult. They immediately spread their wings and flew away. The king wishing to fly after them, essayed the daring adventure, and throwing himself from the top of the tower as if he had wings, was killed in the attempt. Notwithstanding the high reputation of the Muses, it is pretended by some, that Rheseus was the son of Terpsichore, Linus of Clio, and Orpheus of Calliope. Arion and Pindar were also stated to be the children of the Muses, to whom the Romans built a temple and consecrated a fountain.

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{49}

DIANA.

The goddess Diana was daughter of Jupiter and Latona, and twin sister to Apollo. In heaven she bore another name, and conducted the chariot of the Moon, while on earth she presided over the chase, was the peculiar deity of hunters, and called Diana. In Hell she is named Hecate and revered by magicians.

"Hecate, loved by Jove, And honour'd by the inhabitants above, Profusely gifted from the almighty hand, With power extensive o'er the sea and land; And great the honour, she, by Jove's high leave, Does from the starry vault of heaven receive. When to the gods the sacred flames aspire, Does from the starry vault of heaven receive. From human offerings, as the laws require, To Hecate the vows are first prefer'd; Happy of men whose prayers are kindly heard, Success attends his every act below, Honour, wealth, power, to him abundant flow."

HESIOD.

She was also the Goddess of chastity, and it was in this character that her vengeance fell so heavily on Actaeon, who following the chase one day with all the ardour of his profession, unhappily came {50} suddenly on the retired spot, in which the pure Diana, with her nymphs, was enjoying, in the heat of the summer's day, the luxury of bathing. Horrified by this violation, though unintentional, of her privacy, she changed him into a stag, and inspiring with madness the dogs that accompanied him to the chase, they turned upon their metamorphosed master, who, in horrible dread of the fate he had himself so often inflicted, fled rapidly from them. True to their breed, however, the dogs succeeded in running him down and devouring him.

Calista, nymph of Diana was seduced by Jupiter, who taking one of the innumerable shapes, which he is described as assuming when his passions were inflamed towards any particular nymph, introduced himself to her in the form of her mistress, and in this shape, what wonder that the nymph lost her virtue, or that the God was successful! Diana herself, however, took a very different view, and though Calista concealed the effects of her divine intrigue from her mistress for a long time, the latter noticed the alteration in her person when bathing in

"Such streams as Dian loves, And Naiads of old frequented; when she tripped Amidst her frolic nymphs, laughing, or when Just risen from the bath, she fled in sport, Round oaks and sparkling fountains, Chased by the wanton Orcades."

BARRY CORNWALL.

To evince her detestation of the crime, her divine mistress changed her into a bear. This however was before

"The veiled Dian lost her lonely sphere, And her proud name of chaste, for him whose sleep Drank in Elysium on the Latmos steep."

BULWER.

In great horror at this transformation, Calista fled to the forests and brought forth a son, with whom she dwelt, until one day she was induced to enter a temple at Lycaen (where, with her son Arcas, she had been brought), and which it was not lawful to enter. The dwellers in the city, among whom was Arcas, enraged at the desecration, attacked her, and in all probability, she would have perished by the hands of her son, had not Jupiter snatched both to the sky, and placed them among the constellations, Calista being called "the Great Bear," and Arcas, "the Little Bear." {51}

Aeneas, king of Calydon, neglecting the worship of Diana, the Goddess revenged it by sending into his kingdom a monstrous wild boar; and to rid their country of its ravages, he caused the Greek princes to assemble to the chase. Atalanta, daughter of the king of Arcadia, wounded him first, but she would have fallen beneath the fury of its revenge, had it not been for Meleager, son of Aeneas, who slew the boar. A quarrel having arisen for the possession of the head of this monster, Meleager killed his brothers. Indignant at this crime, the wife of Aeneas threw into the flames a brand which bore with it the life of Meleager; a fire immediately spread itself through the vitals of the prince, and he expired in the midst of torments, the most cruel and excruciating, and his mother, stricken with despair at the sight of them, destroyed herself, and the sisters of the unhappy victim were changed into fowls.

Diana is usually represented in the costume of a huntress, with a quiver on her shoulder, and a bow in her hand; her dress is lifted, and her dog is always by her side ready for his prey. Her hair is banded over her brow, while sometimes a crescent is painted on her head, of which the points are turned towards Heaven. Sometimes she is seen in a chariot trained by stags, and in her hand is a torch which serves to frighten away the wild beasts.

The affection of this Goddess for Endymion--

"Whom she, The moonlit Dian on the Latmian hill, When all the woods, and all the winds were still, Kissed with the kiss of immortality"

BARRY CORNWALL.

has been the cause of many an ode, and many a touching story, and is perhaps, one of the most chaste, or at least most chastely told in Mythology:

"He was a poet, sure a lover too Who stood on Latmos top, what time there blew Soft breezes from the Myrtle vale below And brought in faintness, solemn, sweet, and slow A hymn from Dian's Temple; while up-swelling The incense went to her own starry dwelling. But though her face was clear as infant's eyes, Though she stood smiling o'er the sacrifice, The poet wept at her so piteous fate, Wept that such beauty should be desolate: So in fine wrath some golden sounds he won, And gave meek Cynthia her Endymion."

KEATS.

{52}

The beautiful Endymion, grandchild of Jupiter, having dared to offer his guilty love to Juno, he was condemned to live for ever in the infernal regions. However, smitten with his charms, as Diana saw him sleeping on the mountain of Latmos, she snatched him from the power of Pluto, and placed him in a grotto, where she came down from Heaven every night to enjoy his society.

"Crescented Dian, who 'Tis said once wandered from the wastes of blue, And all for love; filling a shepherd's dreams With beauty and delight. He slept, he slept, And on his eyelids white, the huntress wept Till morning, and looked thro', on nights like this His lashes dark, and left her dewy kiss; But never more upon the Latmos hill May she descend to kiss that forest boy, And give--receive, gentle and innocent joy When clouds are distant far and winds are still: Her bound is circumscribed, and curbed her will. Those were immortal stories: are they gone? The pale queen is dethroned--Endymion Hath vanished--; and the worship of this earth Is vowed to golden gods of vulgar birth!"

BARRY CORNWALL.

The fable of Endymion's amours with Diana, or the Moon, arises from his knowledge of astronomy: and as he passed the night {53} on some high mountain, to observe the heavenly bodies, it has been reported that he was courted by the Moon.

"Oh! woodland Queen, What smoothest air, thy smoother forehead woos? Where dost thou listen to the wide halloos Of thy departed nymphs? Through what dark tree Glimmers thy crescent? Whatsoe'er it be 'Tis in the breath of Heaven: thou dost taste Freedom, as none can taste it, nor dost waste Thy loveliness in dismal elements. But finding in our green earth sweet contents, There livest blissfully."

KEATS.

The mode of worship to Diana, differs in different nations. The most celebrated of her temples was that at Ephesus, which from its grandeur and magnificence has been placed among the seven wonders of the world, but was burned by Erostratus, the same day that Alexander the Great was born. This madman had no other end, than to render his name for ever notorious, and he succeeded, notwithstanding the Ephesians having decreed that his name should never be mentioned.

In one of the temples where Diana was worshipped, the presiding priest was always a slave who had slain his predecessor in office, and warned by the fate he had inflicted on others, he never went without a dagger, to protect himself from those who might be ambitious of his office, and reckless of his crime. {54}

In another, she had an altar, whereon they immolated all those whom shipwreck had thrown on their inhospitable shores.

"Mother of light! how fairly dost thou go Over those hoary crests, divinely led! Art thou that huntress of the silver bow Fabled of old?---- ---- ---- ---- * * * * * * What art thou like? sometimes I see thee ride A far bound galley on its perilous way, Whilst breezy waves toss up their silvery spray-- Sometimes I watch thee on from steep to steep, Timidly lighted by thy vestal torch, Till in some Latmian cave I see thee creep To catch the young Endymion asleep, Leaving thy splendour at the jagged porch!

"Oh! thou art beautiful, however it be, Huntress, or Dian, or whatever named, And he the veriest Pagan, that first framed A silver idol, and ne'er worshipped thee! It is too late, or thou shouldst have my knee; Too late now for the old Ephesian vows, And not divine the crescent on thy brows: Yet call thee nothing but the mere, mild moon, Behind those chesnut boughs Casting their dappled shadows at my feet; I will be grateful for that simple boon In many a thoughtful verse, and anthem sweet, And bless thy dainty face whene'er we meet.

"So let it be: before I lived to sigh, Thou wert in Avon, and a thousand rills, Beautiful Dian! and so whene'er I lie Trodden, thou wilt be gazing from thy hills. Blest be thy loving light, where'er it spills, And blessed thy fair face, O mother mild! Still shine, the soul of rivers as they run, Still lend thy lonely lamp, to lovers fond, And blend their plighted shadows into one: Still smile at even on the bedded child, And close his eyelids with thy silver wand."

HOOD.

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{55}

BACCHUS.

Semele, daughter of Cadmus, king of Thebes, had yielded to the licentious Jupiter, and felt within her the effect of her indiscretion. Jealous at the object who had again taken her lord's affections, Juno sought for some mode in which to punish her, and taking the form of a nurse, suggested the desire of beholding the king of the Gods, arrayed in all his celestial glory. In vain did Jupiter, when pressed by Semele, implore her not to ask him to assume that form, which was too much for mortal eye to bear. Woman's wit and woman's fondness prevailed, and, in a moment of weakness, the God swore by the Styx, he would perform her request, and by this oath he was forced to abide. Armed with thunder, as a proof of his divinity, and in all the glory and majesty of his godhead, he presented himself to the presumptuous mortal, who, unable to bear his presence, fell scorched by his thunderbolt.

Jupiter, however, took the infant which Semele bore him, and confided it to the guardianship of the nymphs of the mountain of Nysa, who, for their care of the son of Jupiter, in process of time, were translated into heaven. When Bacchus, for thus was he {56} named, had grown out of their guidance, Silenus became his preceptor and foster-father. This god, who is generally represented as fat and jolly, riding on an ass, crowned with flowers, and always intoxicated, could scarcely be considered as a tutor from whom Bacchus was likely to derive much good. In spite of the education he received through the medium of this being, however, the love of glory shone forth conspicuously in Bacchus.

After having valiantly combatted for Jupiter against the Giants when they invaded Olympus, he undertook his celebrated expedition into the East, to which he marched at the head of an army, composed of men as well as of women, all inspired with divine fury, armed with thyrsuses, and bearing cymbals, and other musical instruments. The leader was drawn in a chariot by a lion and a tiger, and was accompanied by Pan, Silenus, and all the satyrs. His conquests were easy and without bloodshed; the people easily submitted, and gratefully elevated to the rank of a god, the hero who taught them the use of the Vine, the cultivation of the earth, and the manner of making honey; amidst his benevolence to mankind, he was relentless in punishing all want of respect to his divinity. The refusal of Pentheus to acknowledge the godhead of Bacchus was fatal. He forbad his subjects to pay adoration to this new God, and when the Theban women had gone out of the city to celebrate his orgies, he ordered the God himself who conducted the religious multitude, to be seized. His orders were obeyed, but the doors of the prison in which Bacchus was confined, opened of their own accord. Pentheus became more irritated, and commanded his soldiers to destroy the band of Bacchanals. Bacchus, however, inspired the monarch himself with an ardent desire of witnessing the orgies.

Accordingly he hid himself in a wood on Mount Cithoeron, from whence he hoped to view all the ceremonies unperceived. But his curiosity proved fatal; he was descried by the Bacchanals, who rushed upon him. His mother was the first to attack him, her example was instantly followed by his two sisters, and his body was torn to pieces.

As Bacchus was returning triumphantly in his ship, from the conquest we have recorded, crowned with vine leaves, and flushed with victory, in passing near a beautiful island, he heard a plaintive {57} voice and beheld a female, who implored him to yield her his support.

"Oh! think of Ariadne's utter trance, Crazed by the flight of that disloyal traitor, Who left her gazing on the green expanse, That swallowed up his track; oh! what could mate her Even in the cloudy summit of her woe, When o'er the far sea-brine she saw him go!

"For even now she bows and bends her gaze, O'er the eternal waste, as if to sum Its waves by weary thousands; all her days, Dismally doom'd! meanwhile the billows come, And coldly dabble with her quiet feet, Like any bleaching stones they wont to greet.

And thence into her lap have boldly sprung, Washing her weedy tresses to and fro, That round her crouching knees have darkly hung, But she sits careless of waves' ebb and flow: Like a lone beacon on a desert coast Showing where all her hope was wrecked and lost."

HOOD.

It was Ariadne who addressed him, daughter of Memnos, whom Theseus, conqueror of the minotaur had abandoned after having seduced her. The God was so smitten with the candour and beauty of his youthful petitioner, that he married her, and offered to her acceptance a crown of seven stars, which after her death, was formed into a constellation. {58}

"Where the rude waves in Dian's harbour play The fair forsaken Ariadne lay; Here first the wretched maid was taught to prove, The bitter pangs of ill-rewarded love, Here saw just freed from a fallacious sleep, Her Theseus flying o'er the distant deep; Wistful she looked, nor what she saw, believed, Hoped some mistake, and wished to be deceived: While the false youth his way securely made, His faith forgotten, and his vows unpaid; Then sick with grief, and frantic with despair, Her dress she rent, and tore her golden hair. The gay tiara on her temples placed, The fine wrought cincture that her bosom graced, The fillets, which her heaving breasts confined, Are rent, and scattered in the lawless wind. Such trivial cares, alas! no room can find, Her dear, deceitful Theseus fills her mind; For him alone she grieves the live-long day, Sickens in thought, and pines herself away. * * * * * * To her relief the blooming Bacchus ran, And with him brought his ever jovial train: Satyrs and Fauns, in wanton chaces strove, While the God sought his Ariadne's love. Around in wild distorted airs they fly, And make the mountains echo to their cry: Some brandish high an ivy woven spear, The limbs, some scatter, of a victim steer: Others in slippery folds of serpents shine, Others apart, perform the rites divine. To wicked men denied. These, tabors take, These in their hands, the twinkling cymbals shake; While many swell the horn in hoarser strain, And make the shrill, discordant pipe complain, While Bacchus, now enamoured of his prize, Resolved to make her partner of the skies: She, sweetly blushing, yielded to the God, His car he mounted and sublimely rode: And while with eager arms he grasped the fair, Lashed his fleet tigers through the buxom air."

DRYDEN.

It was not long before Bacchus formed an attachment to Erigone, the daughter of Icarius, and to accomplish his purpose took the form of a bunch of grapes; scarcely was it pressed upon her lips, than she felt thrilling through her frame, the effects of the sweet intoxication.

The shepherds residing in the neighbourhood of Athens, having come into the vine-yard of Icarius, drank to such excess of the juice which was so temptingly presented to their sight, that, in the fury of their intoxication, they slew their host, and threw him into a deep well. {59} To expiate his crime, the Icarian games were instituted, and Mera the trusty dog of Icarius, having conducted Erigone to the fatal well, she hung herself in the first madness of her grief; while Mera, the faithful animal, overwhelmed with consternation at the loss of all he loved, died in sorrow. Icarius was changed into the star Bootes, Erigone took the sign of the Virgin, and Mera that of the Dog-star.

To console himself for his loss, the God of the Grape paid a visit to Proserpine, and the beautiful wife of Pluto, was by no means insensible to his merits; but after an absence of three years, Bacchus returned to Ariadne, whose truth and sweetness of disposition, were untouched by his forgetfulness; and from this time it is pleasing to relate that her wisdom and her faithfulness were rewarded by a constancy, which never afterwards deceived her.

One of the most pleasant stories in the whole range of Mythology, is related of the youth Bacchus.

When dwelling in the Isle of Naxos, where he had been for some years, becoming oppressed with the heat of the sun, he threw himself on the sea-shore, and fell fast asleep; some pirates who called there for water, struck with his extreme beauty, seized the dreaming boy with the determination of selling him for a slave: and so sound was the sleep of the God, that they had proceeded for a long space on their journey before he awoke.

Fully aware of his divine origin, the deity determined to make a sport of these bold robbers; and pretending the utmost terror, he implored them to say how he came there, and what they were going to do with him.

"You have nothing to fear," was the reply, "only tell us what your wish is, and it shall be complied with."

"I live at Naxos," said the boy, "and there I would fain find myself."

Perceiving that they continued to steer the wrong course for Naxos, Bacchus threw himself at their feet, as they made for shore.

"Those are not the trees of Naxos," he exclaimed, "I do not see the hills and valleys of my native land."

A speech like this, only drew forth the laughter of his captors, while they continued to row merrily to the shore with their prize. {60}