Sisyphus.
Another criminal was Sisyphus, who, while king of Corinth, had misused his power, had robbed and killed travelers, and even deceived the gods. His reprehensible conduct was punished in Tartarus, where he was condemnedto roll a huge stone to the top of a very steep hill; and just as he reached the summit, and fancied his task done, the rock would slip from his grasp and roll to the foot of the hill, thus obliging him to renew all his exertions.
“With many a weary step, and many a groan,Up the high hill he heaves a huge round stone;The huge round stone, resulting with a bound,Thunders impetuous down, and smokes along the ground.Again the restless orb his toil renews,Dust mounts in clouds, and sweat descends in dews.”Homer(Pope’s tr.).
“With many a weary step, and many a groan,Up the high hill he heaves a huge round stone;The huge round stone, resulting with a bound,Thunders impetuous down, and smokes along the ground.Again the restless orb his toil renews,Dust mounts in clouds, and sweat descends in dews.”Homer(Pope’s tr.).
“With many a weary step, and many a groan,Up the high hill he heaves a huge round stone;The huge round stone, resulting with a bound,Thunders impetuous down, and smokes along the ground.Again the restless orb his toil renews,Dust mounts in clouds, and sweat descends in dews.”Homer(Pope’s tr.).
Salmoneus.
Salmoneus, another king, had vainly tried to make his subjects believe he was Jupiter. To that effect, he had once driven over a brazen bridge to imitate the roll of thunder, and, to simulate the thunderbolts, had thrown lighted torches down upon the multitude, purposely assembled below.
“Th’ audacious wretch four fiery coursers drew:He wav’d a torch aloft, and, madly vain,Sought godlike worship from a servile train.Ambitious fool, with horny hoofs to passO’er hollow arches of resounding brass,To rival thunder in its rapid course,And imitate inimitable force!”Virgil(Dryden’s tr.).
“Th’ audacious wretch four fiery coursers drew:He wav’d a torch aloft, and, madly vain,Sought godlike worship from a servile train.Ambitious fool, with horny hoofs to passO’er hollow arches of resounding brass,To rival thunder in its rapid course,And imitate inimitable force!”Virgil(Dryden’s tr.).
“Th’ audacious wretch four fiery coursers drew:He wav’d a torch aloft, and, madly vain,Sought godlike worship from a servile train.Ambitious fool, with horny hoofs to passO’er hollow arches of resounding brass,To rival thunder in its rapid course,And imitate inimitable force!”Virgil(Dryden’s tr.).
This insolent parody so incensed Jupiter, that he grasped one of his deadliest thunderbolts, brandished it aloft for a moment, and then hurled it with vindictive force at the arrogant king. In Tartarus, Salmoneus was placed beneath an overhanging rock, which momentarily threatened to fall, and crush him under its mass.
“He was doomed to sit under a huge stone,Which the father of the godsKept over his head suspended.Thus he satIn continual dread of its downfall,And lost to every comfort.”Pindar.
“He was doomed to sit under a huge stone,Which the father of the godsKept over his head suspended.Thus he satIn continual dread of its downfall,And lost to every comfort.”Pindar.
“He was doomed to sit under a huge stone,Which the father of the godsKept over his head suspended.Thus he satIn continual dread of its downfall,And lost to every comfort.”Pindar.
Tityus.
Still farther on was the recumbent form of Tityus, a giant whose body covered nine acres of ground. He had dared offer an insult to Juno, and in punishment was chained like Prometheus, while a vulture feasted on his liver.
“There Tityus was to see, who took his birthFrom heav’n, his nursing from the foodful earth:Here his gigantic limbs, with large embrace,Infold nine acres of infernal space.A rav’nous vulture in his open sideHer crooked beak and cruel talons try’d:Still for the growing liver digg’d his breast,The growing liver still supply’d the feast.”Virgil(Dryden’s tr.).
“There Tityus was to see, who took his birthFrom heav’n, his nursing from the foodful earth:Here his gigantic limbs, with large embrace,Infold nine acres of infernal space.A rav’nous vulture in his open sideHer crooked beak and cruel talons try’d:Still for the growing liver digg’d his breast,The growing liver still supply’d the feast.”Virgil(Dryden’s tr.).
“There Tityus was to see, who took his birthFrom heav’n, his nursing from the foodful earth:Here his gigantic limbs, with large embrace,Infold nine acres of infernal space.A rav’nous vulture in his open sideHer crooked beak and cruel talons try’d:Still for the growing liver digg’d his breast,The growing liver still supply’d the feast.”Virgil(Dryden’s tr.).
Ixion.
Here in Tartarus, too, was Ixion, king of the Lapithæ, who had been given the hand of Dia in marriage on condition that he would give her father a stipulated sum of money in exchange, but who, as soon as the maiden was his, refused to keep his promise. The father-in-law was an avaricious man, and clamored so loudly for his money, that Ixion, to be rid of his importunities, slew him. Such an act of violence could not be overlooked by the gods: so Jupiter summoned Ixion to appear before him and state his case.
Ixion pleaded so skillfully, that Jupiter was about to declare him acquitted, when he suddenly caught him making love to Juno, which offense seemed so unpardonable, that he sent him to Tartarus, where he was bound to a constantly revolving wheel of fire.
“Proud Ixion (doom’d to feelThe tortures of the eternal wheel,Bound by the hand of angry Jove)Received the due rewards of impious love.”Sophocles(Francklin’s tr.).
“Proud Ixion (doom’d to feelThe tortures of the eternal wheel,Bound by the hand of angry Jove)Received the due rewards of impious love.”Sophocles(Francklin’s tr.).
“Proud Ixion (doom’d to feelThe tortures of the eternal wheel,Bound by the hand of angry Jove)Received the due rewards of impious love.”Sophocles(Francklin’s tr.).
Elysian Fields.
Far out of sight and hearing of the pitiful sounds which so constantly rose out of Tartarus, were the Elysian Fields, lightedby a sun and moon of their own, decked with the most fragrant and beautiful of flowers, and provided with every charm that nature or art could supply. No storms or wintry winds ever came to rob these fields of their springlike beauty; and here the blessed spent eternity, in pleasant communion with the friends they had loved on earth.
“Patriots who perished for their country’s rights,Or nobly triumphed in the fields of fight:There holy priests and sacred poets stood,Who sang with all the raptures of a god:Worthies whose lives by useful arts refined;With those who leave a deathless name behind,Friends of the world, and fathers of mankind.”
“Patriots who perished for their country’s rights,Or nobly triumphed in the fields of fight:There holy priests and sacred poets stood,Who sang with all the raptures of a god:Worthies whose lives by useful arts refined;With those who leave a deathless name behind,Friends of the world, and fathers of mankind.”
“Patriots who perished for their country’s rights,Or nobly triumphed in the fields of fight:There holy priests and sacred poets stood,Who sang with all the raptures of a god:Worthies whose lives by useful arts refined;With those who leave a deathless name behind,Friends of the world, and fathers of mankind.”
Amongall the mortal maidens honored by the love of Jupiter, king of the gods, none was more attractive than Semele, daughter of Cadmus and Harmonia.
“For Semele was molded in the formOf elegance; the beauty of her raceShone in her forehead.”Nonnus(Elton’s tr.).
“For Semele was molded in the formOf elegance; the beauty of her raceShone in her forehead.”Nonnus(Elton’s tr.).
“For Semele was molded in the formOf elegance; the beauty of her raceShone in her forehead.”Nonnus(Elton’s tr.).
Story of Semele.
Although conscious of these superior attractions, Semele was excessively coy, and it was only with the greatest difficulty that Jupiter, disguised as a mortal, could urge his love suit. When he had at last obtained a hearing, he told her who he was, calculating upon the effect which such a revelation must necessarily produce.
He was not mistaken in his previsions, for Semele, proud of having attracted the greatest among the gods, no longer offered any resistance, and consented to their union. Their love grew and prospered, and Jupiter came down from Olympus as often as possible to enjoy the society of his beloved. His frequent absences finally aroused Juno’s suspicions, and, as usual, she spared no pains to discover what powerful charm could draw him from her side. After a few days she knew all, and straightway determined to have her revenge, and punish her fickle spouse. To accomplish this successfully, she assumed the face and form of Beroe, Semele’s old nurse, and thus entered the young princess’s apartment quite unsuspected.
“Old Beroe’s decrepit shape she wears,Her wrinkled visage, and her hoary hairs;Whilst in her trembling gait she totters on,And learns to tattle in the nurse’s tone.”Ovid(Addison’s tr.).
“Old Beroe’s decrepit shape she wears,Her wrinkled visage, and her hoary hairs;Whilst in her trembling gait she totters on,And learns to tattle in the nurse’s tone.”Ovid(Addison’s tr.).
“Old Beroe’s decrepit shape she wears,Her wrinkled visage, and her hoary hairs;Whilst in her trembling gait she totters on,And learns to tattle in the nurse’s tone.”Ovid(Addison’s tr.).
There she immediately entered into conversation with her supposed nursling, artfully extracted a complete confession, heard with suppressed rage how long Jupiter had wooed ere he had finally won the maiden’s consent, and received a rapturous and minute catalogue of all his personal charms and a synopsis of all they had both said.
The false nurse listened with apparent sympathy; but in reality she was furious, and, to put an end to it all, asked Semele if she were quite sure he was king of the gods, as he asserted, and whether he visited her in all the pomp of his regal apparel. The maiden shamefacedly replied that he was wont to visit her in the guise of a mortal only; whereupon Beroe, with feigned indignation, told her nursling he must either be a vile impostor, or else that he did not love her as dearly as he loved Juno, in whose presence he seldom appeared except in godlike array.
With artful words she so worked upon the guileless nature of her rival, that, when Jupiter next came, the maiden used all her blandishments to extort from him a solemn oath to grant any request she chose to make. A lover is not very likely to weigh his words under such circumstances, and Jupiter took the most solemn of all the oaths to gratify her whim.
“‘Bear me witness, Earth, and ye, broad HeavensAbove us, and ye, waters of the Styx,That flow beneath us, mightiest oath of all,And most revered by the blessed gods!’”Homer(Bryant’s tr.).
“‘Bear me witness, Earth, and ye, broad HeavensAbove us, and ye, waters of the Styx,That flow beneath us, mightiest oath of all,And most revered by the blessed gods!’”Homer(Bryant’s tr.).
“‘Bear me witness, Earth, and ye, broad HeavensAbove us, and ye, waters of the Styx,That flow beneath us, mightiest oath of all,And most revered by the blessed gods!’”Homer(Bryant’s tr.).
The promise won, the delighted Semele bade her lover speedily return to Olympus, don his own majestic form and apparel, and hasten back to her side, surrounded by all his heavenlypomp, and armed with his dreaded thunderbolts. Jupiter, horrified at this imprudent request, implored her to ask something else, and release him from a promise fraught with such danger to her; but all in vain. Semele, like many another fair lady, enjoyed having her own way, and fairly forced him to obey.
Jupiter returned to Olympus, modified his costume as much as possible, dimmed his glory wherever he could, and chose the feeblest of all his bolts, for well he knew no mere mortal could endure the shock of his full glory. Then, mounted on a pale flash of lightning, he darted back to Semele.
“To keep his promise he ascends, and shroudsHis awful brow in whirlwinds and in clouds;Whilst all around, in terrible array,His thunders rattle, and his lightnings play.And yet, the dazzling luster to abate,He set not out in all his pomp and state,Clad in the mildest lightning of the skies,And arm’d with thunder of the smallest size:Not those huge bolts, by which the giants slain,Lay overthrown on the Phlegrean plain.’Twas of a lesser mold, and lighter weight;They call it thunder of a second-rate.For the rough Cyclops, who by Jove’s commandTemper’d the bolt and turn’d it to his hand,Work’d up less flame and fury in its make,And quench’d it sooner in the standing lake.Thus dreadfully adorn’d, with horror bright,Th’ illustrious god, descending from his height,Came rushing on her in a storm of light.”Ovid(Addison’s tr.).
“To keep his promise he ascends, and shroudsHis awful brow in whirlwinds and in clouds;Whilst all around, in terrible array,His thunders rattle, and his lightnings play.And yet, the dazzling luster to abate,He set not out in all his pomp and state,Clad in the mildest lightning of the skies,And arm’d with thunder of the smallest size:Not those huge bolts, by which the giants slain,Lay overthrown on the Phlegrean plain.’Twas of a lesser mold, and lighter weight;They call it thunder of a second-rate.For the rough Cyclops, who by Jove’s commandTemper’d the bolt and turn’d it to his hand,Work’d up less flame and fury in its make,And quench’d it sooner in the standing lake.Thus dreadfully adorn’d, with horror bright,Th’ illustrious god, descending from his height,Came rushing on her in a storm of light.”Ovid(Addison’s tr.).
“To keep his promise he ascends, and shroudsHis awful brow in whirlwinds and in clouds;Whilst all around, in terrible array,His thunders rattle, and his lightnings play.And yet, the dazzling luster to abate,He set not out in all his pomp and state,Clad in the mildest lightning of the skies,And arm’d with thunder of the smallest size:Not those huge bolts, by which the giants slain,Lay overthrown on the Phlegrean plain.’Twas of a lesser mold, and lighter weight;They call it thunder of a second-rate.For the rough Cyclops, who by Jove’s commandTemper’d the bolt and turn’d it to his hand,Work’d up less flame and fury in its make,And quench’d it sooner in the standing lake.Thus dreadfully adorn’d, with horror bright,Th’ illustrious god, descending from his height,Came rushing on her in a storm of light.”Ovid(Addison’s tr.).
But, although so much milder than usual, this apparition was more than poor Semele’s human nerves could bear, and she dropped to the floor in a swoon at the first glimpse of her lover. Oblivious of all but her alarming condition, Jupiter sprang to her side; but the lightning which played about his head set fire to the whole palace, which was reduced to ashes.
Birth of Bacchus.
Semele herself perished, burned to death; and the only person in all the building who escaped uninjured was Bacchus (Liber, Dionysus), the infant son of Jupiter and Semele, who was saved by his father’s powerful hand. Jupiter was at first inconsolable at the death of Semele; and, to testify to all mortals how fondly he had loved her, he brought her spirit up to heaven, where he raised her to the rank of a deity.
“Semele of the flowing hair,Who died in Thunder’s crashing flame,To deified existence came.”Prior.
“Semele of the flowing hair,Who died in Thunder’s crashing flame,To deified existence came.”Prior.
“Semele of the flowing hair,Who died in Thunder’s crashing flame,To deified existence came.”Prior.
The infant Bacchus was first intrusted to the care of his aunt Ino, the second wife of Athamas, King of Thebes, who nursed him as tenderly as if he had been her own child. But all her love could not avail to screen him from the effects of Juno’s persistent hatred: so Jupiter, fearing lest some harm might befall his precious son, bade Mercury convey him to the distant home of the Nysiades,—nymphs who guarded him most faithfully.
Juno, not daring to continue her persecutions, wreaked all her anger upon poor Ino and her unhappy household by sending the Fury Tisiphone to goad Athamas to madness. In a fit of deluded frenzy, he pursued his wife and children as if they were wild beasts. One of his sons, Learchus, fell beneath his arrows; and, to escape his murderous fury, Ino plunged headlong into the sea with her second child in her arms. The gods, in pity for her sufferings, changed her into the goddess Leucothea, and her son into a sea deity by the name of Palæmon.
Bacchus’ attendants.
When still but a youth, Bacchus was appointed god of wine and revelry, and intrusted to the guidance of Silenus, a satyr, half man and half goat, who educated him, and accompanied him on all his travels; for he delighted in roaming all over the world, borne by his followers, or riding in his chariot drawn by wild beasts, while his tutor followed him, mounted on an ass, supported on either side by an attendant.
Refer to captionBACCHUS. (Vatican, Rome.)
BACCHUS. (Vatican, Rome.)
“And near him rode Silenus on his ass,Pelted with flowers as he on did pass.”Keats.
“And near him rode Silenus on his ass,Pelted with flowers as he on did pass.”Keats.
“And near him rode Silenus on his ass,Pelted with flowers as he on did pass.”Keats.
Bacchus’ train was very large indeed, and composed of men and women, nymphs, fauns, and satyrs, all crowned with ivy leaves, who drank wine,—a drink compounded for their express use out of water and sunshine,—ate grapes, danced and sang, and loudly proclaimed him their chosen leader.
“‘We follow Bacchus! Bacchus on the wing,A conquering!Bacchus, young Bacchus! good or ill betide,We dance before him thorough kingdoms wide.’”Keats.
“‘We follow Bacchus! Bacchus on the wing,A conquering!Bacchus, young Bacchus! good or ill betide,We dance before him thorough kingdoms wide.’”Keats.
“‘We follow Bacchus! Bacchus on the wing,A conquering!Bacchus, young Bacchus! good or ill betide,We dance before him thorough kingdoms wide.’”Keats.
The most unruly among his female followers were the Bacchantes, who delighted in revelry, and were in a perpetual state of intoxication as they went with him from land to land, where he taught the people the cultivation of the vine and the art of making wine. He traveled thus, it is said, throughout Greece and Asia Minor, and even ventured as far as India and Ethiopia.
Bacchus and the pirates.
During these long journeys, Bacchus, as was inevitable, met with many adventures, which have been fertile themes for poetry and art. On one occasion, having strayed away from his followers and lost his way, Bacchus laid himself down upon the sand on the seashore to rest. Some pirates, sailing by, saw the handsome young sleeper, and noiselessly bore him off to their vessel, intending to sell him as a slave in Egypt.
They were already quite far out at sea when the god awoke, and gazed around him in mute wonder at his surroundings. When fully roused, he bade the seamen take him back to land, but they merely replied by laughter and mockery. Their amusement was cut short, however, for the ship came to a sudden standstill; and, when they leaned over the sides to ascertain why their oars could no longer propel it onward, they saw a vinegrow out of the sea, and twine its branches and tendrils with lightning-like velocity around oars, mast, and rigging, thus transforming the vessel into a floating arbor. Then a sound of music and revelry greeted their astonished ears, and Bacchus’ followers came thronging over the ship’s sides, riding on wild beasts, and chanting the praises of their god and of his favorite beverage.
“In chorus we sing of wine, sweet wine,Its power benign, and its flavor divine.”Martinez de la Rosa.
“In chorus we sing of wine, sweet wine,Its power benign, and its flavor divine.”Martinez de la Rosa.
“In chorus we sing of wine, sweet wine,Its power benign, and its flavor divine.”Martinez de la Rosa.
These extraordinary sights and sounds so bewildered the poor sailors, that they lost all presence of mind, and jumped overboard into the sea, where they were drowned and changed into dolphins.
On another occasion, Silenus, after a great carousal, lost his way in the forest, and helplessly wandered from place to place in search of his companions, until he finally came to the court of Midas, King of Lydia, of ass’s ears fame (p.75).
The curse of gold.
Midas no sooner beheld the red nose and bloated appearance of the wanderer, than he recognized him as Bacchus’ tutor, and volunteered to lead him back to his divine pupil. Delighted to see Silenus again, Bacchus promised Midas any reward he wished; whereupon Midas, who was an avaricious old king, fell upon his knees, and humbly besought the god to grant that all he touched might be changed into gold.
“‘Give me,’ says he (nor thought he ask’d too much),‘That with my body whatsoe’er I touch,Changed from the nature which it held of old,May be converted into yellow gold.’”Ovid(Croxall’s tr.).
“‘Give me,’ says he (nor thought he ask’d too much),‘That with my body whatsoe’er I touch,Changed from the nature which it held of old,May be converted into yellow gold.’”Ovid(Croxall’s tr.).
“‘Give me,’ says he (nor thought he ask’d too much),‘That with my body whatsoe’er I touch,Changed from the nature which it held of old,May be converted into yellow gold.’”Ovid(Croxall’s tr.).
Bacchus immediately signified that his prayer was granted; and Midas, overjoyed at the success of his bold venture, wandered back to his palace, testing his new-won power, which changed all to gold at a mere touch of one of his fingers.
“Down from a lowly branch a twig he drew,The twig straight glitter’d with a golden hue.He takes a stone, the stone was turn’d to gold:A clod he touches, and the crumbling moldAcknowledged soon the great transforming power,In weight and substance like a mass of ore.He pluck’d the corn, and straight his grasp appearsFill’d with a bending tuft of golden ears.An apple next he takes, and seems to holdThe bright Hesperian vegetable gold:His hand he careless on a pillar lays,With shining gold the fluted pillars blaze.”Ovid(Croxall’s tr.).
“Down from a lowly branch a twig he drew,The twig straight glitter’d with a golden hue.He takes a stone, the stone was turn’d to gold:A clod he touches, and the crumbling moldAcknowledged soon the great transforming power,In weight and substance like a mass of ore.He pluck’d the corn, and straight his grasp appearsFill’d with a bending tuft of golden ears.An apple next he takes, and seems to holdThe bright Hesperian vegetable gold:His hand he careless on a pillar lays,With shining gold the fluted pillars blaze.”Ovid(Croxall’s tr.).
“Down from a lowly branch a twig he drew,The twig straight glitter’d with a golden hue.He takes a stone, the stone was turn’d to gold:A clod he touches, and the crumbling moldAcknowledged soon the great transforming power,In weight and substance like a mass of ore.He pluck’d the corn, and straight his grasp appearsFill’d with a bending tuft of golden ears.An apple next he takes, and seems to holdThe bright Hesperian vegetable gold:His hand he careless on a pillar lays,With shining gold the fluted pillars blaze.”Ovid(Croxall’s tr.).
The sight of these and many other wonders, wrought by a mere touch, filled his heart with joy; and in his elation he bade his servants prepare a sumptuous feast, and invite all his courtiers to share his merriment. His commands were obeyed with the utmost celerity, and Midas beamed with satisfaction as he took his place at the head of the board, and viewed the choice dishes and wines prepared for his delectation.
Here, too, however, a new revelation awaited him; for cloth, plate, and cup turned to gold, as did the food and drink as soon as they met his eager lips.
“Whose powerful hands the bread no sooner hold,But all its substance is transform’d to gold:Up to his mouth he lifts the savory meat,Which turns to gold as he attempts to eat:His patron’s noble juice of purple hue,Touch’d by his lips, a gilded cordial grew,Unfit for drink; and, wondrous to behold,It trickles from his jaws a fluid gold.The rich poor fool, confounded with surprise,Starving in all his various plenty lies.”Ovid(Croxall’s tr.).
“Whose powerful hands the bread no sooner hold,But all its substance is transform’d to gold:Up to his mouth he lifts the savory meat,Which turns to gold as he attempts to eat:His patron’s noble juice of purple hue,Touch’d by his lips, a gilded cordial grew,Unfit for drink; and, wondrous to behold,It trickles from his jaws a fluid gold.The rich poor fool, confounded with surprise,Starving in all his various plenty lies.”Ovid(Croxall’s tr.).
“Whose powerful hands the bread no sooner hold,But all its substance is transform’d to gold:Up to his mouth he lifts the savory meat,Which turns to gold as he attempts to eat:His patron’s noble juice of purple hue,Touch’d by his lips, a gilded cordial grew,Unfit for drink; and, wondrous to behold,It trickles from his jaws a fluid gold.The rich poor fool, confounded with surprise,Starving in all his various plenty lies.”Ovid(Croxall’s tr.).
In the midst of plenty, the gnawing pangs of hunger now made themselves felt; and the precious gift, which prevented his allaying them, soon lost all its attractions. With weary feet,Midas now retraced the road he had traveled in his pride a few hours before, again cast himself at Bacchus’ feet, and this time implored him to take back the inconvenient gift, which prevented him from satisfying his natural appetites.
His distress seemed so real, that Bacchus bade him go and wash in the Pactolus River, if he would be rid of the power which had so soon turned into a curse. Midas hastened off to the river and plunged in its tide, noting that even its sands all turned to gold beneath his tread; since when,
“Pactolus singeth over golden sands.”Gray.
“Pactolus singeth over golden sands.”Gray.
“Pactolus singeth over golden sands.”Gray.
Naxos.
Bacchus’ favorite place of resort was the Island of Naxos, which he visited after every journey. During one of his sojourns there, he discovered a fair maiden lying alone on the sandy shore. Ariadne, for such was the girl’s name, had been forsaken there by her lover, Theseus, who had sailed away while she slept (p.257). As soon as she awoke, she called her faithless lover; but no answering sound fell upon her ear except the mocking tones of Echo. Her tears flowed freely as she beat her breast in despair; but suddenly her lamentations ceased, as she caught the faint sound of music floating toward her on the summer breeze. Eagerly turning toward the pleasant music, she caught sight of a merry procession, headed by the God of Wine.
“‘And as I sat, over the light blue hillsThere came a noise of revelers: the rillsInto the wide stream came of purple hue—’Twas Bacchus and his crew!The earnest trumpet spake, and silver thrillsFrom kissing cymbals made a merry din—’Twas Bacchus and his kin!Like to a moving vintage down they came,Crown’d with green leaves, and faces all on flame;All madly dancing through the pleasant valley.’”Keats.
“‘And as I sat, over the light blue hillsThere came a noise of revelers: the rillsInto the wide stream came of purple hue—’Twas Bacchus and his crew!The earnest trumpet spake, and silver thrillsFrom kissing cymbals made a merry din—’Twas Bacchus and his kin!Like to a moving vintage down they came,Crown’d with green leaves, and faces all on flame;All madly dancing through the pleasant valley.’”Keats.
“‘And as I sat, over the light blue hillsThere came a noise of revelers: the rillsInto the wide stream came of purple hue—’Twas Bacchus and his crew!The earnest trumpet spake, and silver thrillsFrom kissing cymbals made a merry din—’Twas Bacchus and his kin!Like to a moving vintage down they came,Crown’d with green leaves, and faces all on flame;All madly dancing through the pleasant valley.’”Keats.
Refer to captionMARRIAGE OF BACCHUS AND ARIADNE.—Tintoretto. (Ducal Palace, Venice.)
MARRIAGE OF BACCHUS AND ARIADNE.—Tintoretto. (Ducal Palace, Venice.)
Bacchus and Ariadne.
Bacchus, the first to perceive the fair mourner, hastened to her side, and brought all his powers of persuasion into play to console her. His devotion at last induced her to forget her recreant lover, and, after a short courtship, Bacchus won her as a bride.
Their wedding was the gayest ever seen, and the feasting lasted for several days. The bridegroom presented the bride with a crown adorned with seven glittering stars,—an ornament which fitly enhanced her peerless beauty. Shortly after her marriage, however, poor Ariadne sickened and died, leaving a disconsolate widower, who took the crown she had so often worn and flung it up into the air. It rose higher and higher, until the gods fixed it in the sky, where it still forms a brilliant constellation, known as Ariadne’s Crown, or Corona.
“And still her sign is seen in heaven,And, ’midst the glittering symbols of the sky,The starry crown of Ariadne glides.”Apollonius Rhodius.
“And still her sign is seen in heaven,And, ’midst the glittering symbols of the sky,The starry crown of Ariadne glides.”Apollonius Rhodius.
“And still her sign is seen in heaven,And, ’midst the glittering symbols of the sky,The starry crown of Ariadne glides.”Apollonius Rhodius.
Bacchus’ lightheartedness had all vanished, and he no longer took any pleasure in music, dance, or revelry, until Jupiter, in pity for his bereavement, restored Ariadne to his longing arms, and, to prevent her being again claimed by Death, gave her immortal life.
Story of Pentheus.
When but a short distance from Thebes, Bacchus once sent a herald to Pentheus, the king, to announce his approach, and bespeak a suitable reception and sumptuous entertainment. Rumors of the noise and disorder, which seemed to have been the invariable accompaniment of the god’s presence, had already reached Pentheus, who therefore dismissed the herald with an insolent message, purporting that Bacchus had better remain outside of the city gates.
To avenge this insult, Bacchus inspired the Theban women with a species of dementia, which made them rush simultaneously out of the city and join his followers. Then they all clamoredfor permission to witness the religious rites in his honor, generally called Mysteries, which permission was graciously granted.
The king’s spies reported all that had occurred, and their accounts made Pentheus long to view the ceremonies in secret. He therefore disguised himself, and hid in a bush near the consecrated place, hoping to see all without being seen; but an inadvertent movement attracted the attention of the already excited Bacchantes, who, led by Agave, the king’s own mother, dragged him from his hiding place and tore him limb from limb.
Worship of Bacchus.
Bacchus, god of wine, was worshiped throughout the ancient world, and festivals without number were held in his honor. The most noted were the Greater and Lesser Dionysia, the Liberalia, and the Bacchanalia, where the wildest merrymaking and license were freely indulged in by all participants.
“Bacchus, on thee they call, in hymns divine,And hang thy statues on the lofty pine:Hence plenty every laughing vineyard fills,Thro’ the deep valleys and the sloping hills;Where’er the god inclines his lovely face,More luscious fruits the rich plantations grace.Then let us Bacchus’ praises duly sing,And consecrated cakes, and chargers bring,Dragg’d by their horns let victim goats expire,And roast on hazel spits before the sacred fire.”“Come, sacred sire, with luscious clusters crown’d,Here all the riches of thy reign abound;Each field replete with blushing autumn glows,And in deep tides for thee the foaming vintage flows.”Virgil(Warton’s tr.).
“Bacchus, on thee they call, in hymns divine,And hang thy statues on the lofty pine:Hence plenty every laughing vineyard fills,Thro’ the deep valleys and the sloping hills;Where’er the god inclines his lovely face,More luscious fruits the rich plantations grace.Then let us Bacchus’ praises duly sing,And consecrated cakes, and chargers bring,Dragg’d by their horns let victim goats expire,And roast on hazel spits before the sacred fire.”“Come, sacred sire, with luscious clusters crown’d,Here all the riches of thy reign abound;Each field replete with blushing autumn glows,And in deep tides for thee the foaming vintage flows.”Virgil(Warton’s tr.).
“Bacchus, on thee they call, in hymns divine,And hang thy statues on the lofty pine:Hence plenty every laughing vineyard fills,Thro’ the deep valleys and the sloping hills;Where’er the god inclines his lovely face,More luscious fruits the rich plantations grace.Then let us Bacchus’ praises duly sing,And consecrated cakes, and chargers bring,Dragg’d by their horns let victim goats expire,And roast on hazel spits before the sacred fire.”
“Come, sacred sire, with luscious clusters crown’d,Here all the riches of thy reign abound;Each field replete with blushing autumn glows,And in deep tides for thee the foaming vintage flows.”Virgil(Warton’s tr.).
Bacchus is generally represented as a handsome youth, crowned with ivy or grape leaves and clusters, bearing the thyrsus, an ivy-circled wand, as scepter, and riding in a chariot drawn by panthers or leopards.
Ceres and Proserpina.
Ceres(Demeter), daughter of Cronus and Rhea, and one of Jupiter’s numerous consorts, was goddess of agriculture and civilization. Her manifold cares were shared by her daughter, Proserpina (Cora, Pherephatta, Persephone), the goddess of vegetation. Whenever her duties permitted, this fair young goddess hastened off to the Island of Sicily, her favorite place of resort, where she wandered about all day long, attended by a merry girlish train, gathering flowers, on the green slopes of Mount Ætna, and danced with the nymphs in the beautiful plain of Enna.
One day, weary of labor, Proserpina called these fair playmates to join her and spend a merry day gathering flowers.
“And one fair morn—Not all the ages blot it—on the sideOf Ætna we were straying. There was thenSummer nor winter, springtide nor the timeOf harvest, but the soft unfailing sunShone always, and the sowing time was oneWith reaping.”Lewis Morris.
“And one fair morn—Not all the ages blot it—on the sideOf Ætna we were straying. There was thenSummer nor winter, springtide nor the timeOf harvest, but the soft unfailing sunShone always, and the sowing time was oneWith reaping.”Lewis Morris.
“And one fair morn—Not all the ages blot it—on the sideOf Ætna we were straying. There was thenSummer nor winter, springtide nor the timeOf harvest, but the soft unfailing sunShone always, and the sowing time was oneWith reaping.”Lewis Morris.
Pluto kidnaps Proserpina.
The maidens sang merry lays as they wound their long garlands; and their joyous voices and ripples of silvery laughter attracted the attention of Pluto, just then driving past in his dark chariot drawn by four fiery coal-black steeds. To ascertain whence these sounds proceeded, thegod stepped out of his car, and cautiously peeped through the thick foliage.
He saw Proserpina sitting on a mossy bank, almost buried in many-hued blossoms, her laughing companions picturesquely grouped around her. One glance sufficed to convince Pluto of her loveliness and grace, and to make him feel that his happiness depended on the possession of this bright young creature.
Long ere this, he had tried to persuade one after another of the goddesses to share his gloomy throne; but one and all had refused the honor, and declined to accompany him to a land where the sun never shone, the birds never sang, and the flowers never bloomed. Hurt and disappointed by these rebuffs, Pluto had finally registered a solemn vow never to go wooing again; and so, instead of gently inviting Proserpina to become his queen, he resolved to kidnap her.
Straight through the bushes he strode, direct to the spot where she was seated. The noise of crackling branches and hasty footsteps made the assembled maidens swiftly turn. One glance sufficed to identify the intruder, for none but he could boast of such a dark, lowering countenance; and all exclaimed in mingled wonder and terror at his unwonted presence in those sunlit regions.
Refer to captionABDUCTION OF PROSERPINA.—Schobelt.
ABDUCTION OF PROSERPINA.—Schobelt.
“’Tis he, ’tis he: he comes to usFrom the depths of Tartarus.For what of evil doth he roamFrom his red and gloomy home,In the center of the world,Where the sinful dead are hurled?Mark him as he moves along,Drawn by horses black and strong,Such as may belong to NightEre she takes her morning flight.Now the chariot stops: the godOn our grassy world hath trod:Like a Titan steppeth he,Yet full of his divinity.On his mighty shoulders lieRaven locks, and in his eyeA cruel beauty, such as noneOf us may wisely look upon.”Barry Cornwall.
“’Tis he, ’tis he: he comes to usFrom the depths of Tartarus.For what of evil doth he roamFrom his red and gloomy home,In the center of the world,Where the sinful dead are hurled?Mark him as he moves along,Drawn by horses black and strong,Such as may belong to NightEre she takes her morning flight.Now the chariot stops: the godOn our grassy world hath trod:Like a Titan steppeth he,Yet full of his divinity.On his mighty shoulders lieRaven locks, and in his eyeA cruel beauty, such as noneOf us may wisely look upon.”Barry Cornwall.
“’Tis he, ’tis he: he comes to usFrom the depths of Tartarus.For what of evil doth he roamFrom his red and gloomy home,In the center of the world,Where the sinful dead are hurled?Mark him as he moves along,Drawn by horses black and strong,Such as may belong to NightEre she takes her morning flight.Now the chariot stops: the godOn our grassy world hath trod:Like a Titan steppeth he,Yet full of his divinity.On his mighty shoulders lieRaven locks, and in his eyeA cruel beauty, such as noneOf us may wisely look upon.”Barry Cornwall.
Frightened by his impetuous approach, the trembling nymphs first crowded around Proserpina, who, in her astonishment and trepidation, dropped all her pretty flowers and stood motionless among them. Her uncertainty as to his purpose was only momentary, for, catching her in his brawny arms ere she could make an attempt to escape, he bore her off to his chariot, in spite of prayers and struggles, and drove away as fast as his fleet steeds could carry him.
He was soon out of hearing of the wild cries and lamentations of the nymphs, who vainly pursued him, and tried to overtake their beloved mistress. Afraid lest Ceres should come and force him to relinquish his new-won treasure, Pluto drove faster and faster, nor paused for an instant until he reached the banks of the Cyane River, whose waters, at his approach, began to seethe and roar in a menacing fashion, and spread themselves as much as possible, to check him in his flight.
Pluto quickly perceived that to attempt to cross the river in his chariot would be madness, while by retracing his footsteps he ran the risk of meeting Ceres, and being forced to relinquish his prize. He therefore decided to have recourse to other means, and, seizing his terrible two-pronged fork, struck the earth such a mighty blow, that a great crevice opened under his feet, through which horses and chariot plunged down into the darkness of the Lower World.
Proserpina turned her weeping eyes to catch a parting glimpse of the fair earth she was leaving, and then, with a fond thought of her anxious mother, who, when evening came, would vainly seek her child in all her favorite haunts, she quickly flung her girdle into the Cyane, and called to the water nymph to carry it to Ceres.
Elated by the complete success of his bold venture, and no longer fearful of immediate pursuit, the happy god strained his fair captive to his breast, pressed kisses on her fresh young cheeks, and tried to calm her terrors, as the black steeds rushed faster and faster along the dark passage, nor paused until they reached the foot of their master’s throne.
“Pleased as he grasps her in his iron arms,Frights with soft sighs, with tender words alarms.”Darwin.
“Pleased as he grasps her in his iron arms,Frights with soft sighs, with tender words alarms.”Darwin.
“Pleased as he grasps her in his iron arms,Frights with soft sighs, with tender words alarms.”Darwin.
Ceres’ search.
In the mean while the sun had sunk below the Sicilian horizon; and Ceres, returning from the fields of fast-ripening grain to her own dwelling, sought for the missing Proserpina, of whom no trace could be found except the scattered flowers. Hither and thither the mother wandered, calling her daughter, and wondering where she could be, and why she did not come bounding to meet her. As time passed, and still Proserpina did not appear, Ceres’ heart beat fast with apprehension, and the tears coursed down her cheeks as she rushed about from place to place, calling her daughter.
“What ails her that she comes not home?Demeter seeks her far and wide,And gloomy-browed doth ceaseless roamFrom many a morn till eventide.‘My life, immortal though it be,Is naught!’ she cries, ‘for want of thee,Persephone—Persephone!’”Ingelow.
“What ails her that she comes not home?Demeter seeks her far and wide,And gloomy-browed doth ceaseless roamFrom many a morn till eventide.‘My life, immortal though it be,Is naught!’ she cries, ‘for want of thee,Persephone—Persephone!’”Ingelow.
“What ails her that she comes not home?Demeter seeks her far and wide,And gloomy-browed doth ceaseless roamFrom many a morn till eventide.‘My life, immortal though it be,Is naught!’ she cries, ‘for want of thee,Persephone—Persephone!’”Ingelow.
Night came, and Ceres, kindling a torch at the volcanic fires of Mount Ætna, continued her search. Day dawned, and still the mother called, awakening the morning echoes with her longing cries for her child. Her daily duties were all neglected. The rain no longer refreshed the drooping flowers, the grain was parched by the ardent rays of the sun, and the grass all perished, while Ceres roamed over hill and dale in search of Proserpina.
Weary at last of her hopeless quest, the goddess seated herself by the wayside, near the city of Eleusis, and gave way to her overwhelming grief.
“Long was thine anxious searchFor lovely Proserpine, nor didst thou breakThy mournful fast, till the far-fam’d EleusisReceived thee wandering.”Orphic Hymn.
“Long was thine anxious searchFor lovely Proserpine, nor didst thou breakThy mournful fast, till the far-fam’d EleusisReceived thee wandering.”Orphic Hymn.
“Long was thine anxious searchFor lovely Proserpine, nor didst thou breakThy mournful fast, till the far-fam’d EleusisReceived thee wandering.”Orphic Hymn.
Ceres and Triptolemus.
To avoid recognition, she had assumed the appearance of an aged crone; and as she sat there by the wayside, in tears, she attracted the compassionate inquiries of the daughters of Celeus, king of the country. Having heard her bewail the loss of her child, they entreated her to come to the palace, and, knowing nothing could so well soothe a breaking heart, offered her the charge of their infant brother Triptolemus.
Ceres, touched by their ready sympathy, accepted the offer; and when she arrived at the palace, the royal heir was intrusted to her care. Tenderly the goddess kissed the puny child’s little pinched face; and at her touch the child became rosy and well, to the unbounded astonishment of the royal family and all the court.
In the night, while Ceres sat alone with her charge, it occurred to her that she might confer a still greater blessing upon him, that of immortality: so she anointed his limbs with nectar, murmured a powerful charm, and placed him upon the red-hot coals, to consume all the perishable elements left in his body.
The queen, Metaneira, who had thought it somewhat imprudent to leave the child thus alone with a stranger, now stole noiselessly into the apartment, and with a wild shriek rushed to the fire and snatched her child out of the flames, pressed him anxiously to her breast, and, after ascertaining that he was quite unharmed, turned to vent her indignation upon the careless nurse; but the aged beggar woman had vanished, and in her stead she confronted the radiant Goddess of Agriculture.
Refer to captionCERES. (Vatican, Rome.)
CERES. (Vatican, Rome.)
“From her fragrant robesA lovely scent was scattered, and afarShone light emitted from her skin divine,And yellow locks upon her shoulders waved;White as from lightning, all the house was filledWith splendor.”Homeric Hymn.
“From her fragrant robesA lovely scent was scattered, and afarShone light emitted from her skin divine,And yellow locks upon her shoulders waved;White as from lightning, all the house was filledWith splendor.”Homeric Hymn.
“From her fragrant robesA lovely scent was scattered, and afarShone light emitted from her skin divine,And yellow locks upon her shoulders waved;White as from lightning, all the house was filledWith splendor.”Homeric Hymn.
With a gentle reproof to the queen for her untimely interference, Ceres explained what she fain would have done, and vanished, to continue her wanderings in other lands. She finally returned to Italy; and, while wandering along the river banks one day, the waters suddenly cast a glittering object at her feet. Stooping hastily to ascertain what it might be, she recognized the girdle her daughter had worn when she had parted from her in Sicily.
Joyfully she embraced the token, and, thinking she must now be upon Proserpina’s track, hastened on until she came to a crystal fountain, by whose side she sat down to rest. Her eyes were heavy with the combined effect of tears, fatigue, and oppressive heat, and she was about to lose all consciousness of her trouble in sleep, when the murmur of the fountain increased, until she fancied it was talking; not as mortals do, but in its own silvery accents.
Arethusa and Alpheus.
The goddess was not mistaken; for a few minutes later she could distinguish words, and heard the fountain entreat her to listen, if she would hear what had befallen her child. The fountain then went on to tell how she had not always been a mere stream, but was once a nymph, called Arethusa, in Diana’s train, and how, overcome by the heat, she had once sought a cool stream wherein she might bathe her heated limbs.
Refer to captionA NYMPH.—Kray.
A NYMPH.—Kray.
She soon found one, the Alpheus River, and selected a spot where the trees hung over the limpid waters, where the sand on the bottom was fine and even, and where no mortal eyes could see her as she threw aside her sandals and outer garments. She was enjoying the refreshing sensation of the water ripplingaround her hot limbs, and was reveling in the complete solitude, when suddenly the river, until now as smooth as a mirror, was ruffled by waves, which crept nearer and nearer to the startled nymph, until in affright she sprang out of the water.
Then a voice—the voice of the river god Alpheus—was heard, calling to her in pleading accents to stay her flight and lend an ear to his wooing; but when the impetuous god, instead of waiting for an answer to his suit, rose up out of the water and rushed to clasp her in his arms, she turned and fled in great terror. She fled, but he pursued. Over hill and dale, through forest and field, Arethusa ran, still closely followed by her too ardent lover, until, exhausted, she paused for breath, crying aloud to Diana to come to her rescue.
Her prayer was answered. A moment later she was enveloped in a thick mist and transformed into a fountain. Alpheus could no longer see her, but wandered about, bewailing her disappearance, and calling her in passionate accents.