{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/wikisource_The_Age_of_Fable_Chapter_V/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/wikisource_The_Age_of_Fable_Chapter_V","id":"wikisource_The_Age_of_Fable_Chapter_V","license":"Public Domain / CC-BY-SA (see source)","rights_basis":"wikisource_site_inclusion_policy","source":"wikisource","source_url":"https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Age_of_Fable/Chapter_V","summary":null,"tags":["Headers_applying_DefaultSort_key","Subpages"],"text":"V. PH\u00c4ETON\n\nPh\u00e4eton was the son of Apollo and the nymph Clymene. One day a\nschoolfellow laughed at the idea of his being the son of the god,\nand Ph\u00e4eton went in rage and shame and reported it to his mother.\n\"If,\" said he, \"I am indeed of heavenly birth, give me, mother,\nsome proof of it, and establish my claim to the honor.\" Clymene\nstretched forth her hands towards the skies, and said, \"I call to\nwitness the Sun which looks down upon us, that I have told you the\ntruth. If I speak falsely, let this be the last time I behold his\nlight. But it needs not much labor to go and inquire for yourself;\nthe land whence the Sun rises lies next to ours. Go and demand of\nhim whether he will own you as a son.\" Ph\u00e4eton heard with delight.\nHe travelled to India, which lies directly in the regions of\nsunrise; and, full of hope and pride, approached the goal whence\nhis parent begins his course.\n\nThe palace of the Sun stood reared aloft on columns, glittering\nwith gold and precious stones, while polished ivory formed the\nceilings, and silver the doors. The workmanship surpassed the\nmaterial; for upon the\nwalls Vulcan had represented earth, sea, and skies, with their\ninhabitants. In the sea were the nymphs, some sporting in the\nwaves, some riding on the backs of fishes, while others sat upon\nthe rocks and dried their sea-green hair. Their faces were not all\nalike, nor yet unlike,\u2014but such as sisters' ought to be. The earth had its towns\nand forests and rivers and rustic divinities. Over all was carved\nthe likeness of the glorious heaven; and on the silver doors the\ntwelve signs of the zodiac, six on each side.\n\nClymene's son advanced up the steep ascent, and entered the halls\nof his disputed father. He approached the paternal presence, but\nstopped at a distance, for the light was more than he could bear.\nPh\u0153bus, arrayed in a purple vesture, sat on a throne, which\nglittered as with diamonds. On his right hand and his left stood\nthe Day, the Month, and the Year, and, at regular intervals, the\nHours. Spring stood with her head crowned with flowers, and\nSummer, with garment cast aside, and a garland formed of spears of\nripened grain, and Autumn, with his feet stained with grape-juice,\nand icy Winter, with his hair stiffened with hoar frost.\nSurrounded by these attendants, the Sun, with the eye that sees\neverything, beheld the youth dazzled with the novelty and splendor\nof the scene, and inquired the purpose of his errand. The youth\nreplied, \"O light of the boundless world, Ph\u0153bus, my father,\u2014if\nyou permit me to use that name,\u2014give me some proof, I beseech\nyou, by which I may be known as yours.\" He ceased; and his father,\nlaying aside the beams that shone all around his head, bade him\napproach, and embracing him, said, \"My son, you deserve not to be\ndisowned, and I confirm what your mother has told you. To put an\nend to your doubts, ask what you will, the gift shall be yours. I\ncall to witness that dreadful lake, which I never saw, but which\nwe gods swear by in our most solemn engagements.\" Ph\u00e4eton\nimmediately asked to be permitted for one day to drive the chariot\nof the sun. The father repented of his promise; thrice and four\ntimes he shook his radiant head in warning. \"I have spoken\nrashly,\" said he; \"this only request I would fain deny. I beg you\nto withdraw it. It is not a safe boon, nor one, my Ph\u00e4eton , suited\nto your youth and strength. Your lot is mortal, and you ask what\nis beyond a mortal's power. In your ignorance you aspire to do\nthat which not even the gods themselves may do. None but myself\nmay drive the flaming car of day. Not even Jupiter, whose terrible\nright arm hurls the thunderbolts. The first part of the way is\nsteep, and such as the horses when fresh in the morning can hardly\nclimb; the middle is high up in the heavens, whence I myself can\nscarcely, without alarm, look down and behold the earth and sea\nstretched beneath me. The last part of the road descends rapidly,\nand requires most careful driving. Tethys, who is waiting to\nreceive me, often trembles for me lest I should fall headlong. Add\nto all this, the heaven is all the time turning round and carrying\nthe stars with it. I have to be perpetually on my guard lest that\nmovement, which sweeps everything else along, should hurry me also\naway. Suppose I should lend you the chariot, what would you do?\nCould you keep your course while the sphere was revolving under\nyou? Perhaps you think that there are forests and cities, the\nabodes of gods, and palaces and temples on the way. On the\ncontrary, the road is through the midst of frightful monsters. You\npass by the horns of the Bull, in front of the Archer, and near\nthe Lion's jaws, and where the Scorpion stretches its arms in one\ndirection and the Crab in another. Nor will you find it easy to\nguide those horses, with their breasts full of fire that they\nbreathe forth from their mouths and nostrils. I can scarcely\ngovern them myself, when they are unruly and resist the reins.\nBeware, my son, lest I be the donor of a fatal gift; recall your\nrequest while yet you may. Do you ask me for a proof that you are\nsprung from my blood? I give you a proof in my fears for you. Look\nat my face\u2014I would that you could look into my breast, you would\nthere see all a father's anxiety. Finally,\" he continued, \"look\nround the world and choose whatever you will of what earth or sea\ncontains most precious\u2014ask it and fear no refusal. This only I\npray you not to urge. It is not honor, but destruction you seek.\nWhy do you hang round my neck and still entreat me? You shall have\nit if you persist,\u2014the oath is sworn and must be kept,\u2014but I beg\nyou to choose more wisely.\"\n\nHe ended; but the youth rejected all admonition and held to his\ndemand. So, having resisted as long as he could, Ph\u0153bus at last\nled the way to where stood the lofty chariot.\n\nIt was of gold, the gift of Vulcan; the axle was of gold, the pole\nand wheels of gold, the spokes of silver. Along the seat were rows\nof chrysolites and diamonds which reflected all around the\nbrightness of the sun. While the daring youth, gazed in\nadmiration, the early Dawn threw open the purple doors of the\neast, and showed the pathway strewn with roses. The stars\nwithdrew, marshalled by the Day-star, which last of all retired\nalso. The father, when he saw the earth beginning to glow, and the\nMoon preparing to retire, ordered the Hours to harness up the\nhorses. They obeyed, and led forth from the lofty stalls the\nsteeds full fed with ambrosia, and attached the reins. Then the\nfather bathed the face of his son with a powerful unguent, and\nmade him capable of enduring the brightness of the flame. He set\nthe rays on his head, and, with a foreboding sigh, said, \"If, my\nson, you will in this at least heed my advice, spare the whip and\nhold tight the reins. They go fast enough of their own accord; the\nlabor is to hold them in. You are not to take the straight road\ndirectly between the five circles, but turn off to the left. Keep\nwithin the limit of the middle zone, and avoid the northern and\nthe southern alike. You will see the marks of the wheels, and they\nwill serve to guide you. And, that the skies and the earth may\neach receive their due share of heat, go not too high, or you will\nburn the heavenly dwellings, nor too low, or you will set the\nearth on fire; the middle course is safest and best. And now I leave you to your chance,\nwhich I hope will plan better for you than you have done for\nyourself. Night is passing out of the western gates and we can\ndelay no longer. Take the reins; but if at last your heart fails\nyou, and you will benefit by my advice, stay where you are in\nsafety, and suffer me to light and warm the earth.\" The agile\nyouth sprang into the chariot, stood erect, and grasped the reins\nwith delight, pouring out thanks to his reluctant parent.\n\nMeanwhile the horses fill the air with their snortings and fiery\nbreath, and stamp the ground impatient. Now the bars are let down,\nand the boundless plain of the universe lies open before them.\nThey dart forward and cleave the opposing clouds, and outrun the\nmorning breezes which started from the same eastern goal. The\nsteeds soon perceived that the load they drew was lighter than\nusual; and as a ship without ballast is tossed hither and thither\non the sea, so the chariot, without its accustomed weight, was\ndashed about as if empty. They rush headlong and leave the\ntravelled road. He is alarmed, and knows not how to guide them;\nnor, if he knew, has he the power. Then, for the first time, the\nGreat and Little Bear were scorched with heat, and would fain, if\nit were possible, have plunged into the water; and the Serpent\nwhich lies coiled up round the north pole, torpid and harmless,\ngrew warm, and with warmth felt its rage revive. Bootes, they say,\nfled away, though encumbered with his plough, and all unused to\nrapid motion.\n\nWhen hapless Ph\u00e4eton looked down upon the earth, now spreading in\nvast extent beneath him, he grew pale and his knees shook with\nterror. In spite of the glare all around him, the sight of his\neyes grew dim. He wished he had never touched his father's horses,\nnever learned his parentage, never prevailed in his request. He is\nborne along like a vessel that flies before a tempest, when the\npilot can do no more and betakes himself to his prayers. What\nshall he do? Much of the heavenly road is left behind, but more\nremains before. He turns his eyes from one direction to the other;\nnow to the goal whence he began his course, now to the realms of\nsunset which he is not destined to reach. He loses his self-\ncommand, and knows not what to do,\u2014whether to draw tight the\nreins or throw them loose; he forgets the names of the horses. He\nsees with terror the monstrous forms scattered over the surface of\nheaven. Here the Scorpion extended his two great arms, with his\ntail and crooked claws stretching over two signs of the zodiac.\nWhen the boy beheld him, reeking with poison and menacing with his\nfangs, his courage failed, and the reins fell from his hands. The\nhorses, when they felt them loose on their backs, dashed headlong,\nand unrestrained went off into unknown regions of the sky, in\namong the stars, hurling the chariot over pathless places, now up\nin high heaven, now down almost to the earth. The moon saw with\nastonishment her brother's chariot running beneath her own. The\nclouds begin to smoke, and the mountain tops take fire; the fields\nare parched with heat, the plants wither, the trees with their\nleafy branches burn, the harvest is ablaze! But these are small\nthings. Great cities perished, with their walls and towers; whole\nnations with their people were consumed to ashes! The forest-clad\nmountains burned, Athos and Taurus and Tmolus and \u0152te; Ida, once\ncelebrated for fountains, but now all dry; the Muses' mountain\nHelicon, and Haemus; Aetna, with fires within and without, and\nParnassus, with his two peaks, and Rhodope, forced at last to part\nwith his snowy crown. Her cold climate was no protection to\nScythia, Caucasus burned, and Ossa and Pindus, and, greater than\nboth, Olympus; the Alps high in air, and the Apennines crowned\nwith clouds.\n\nThen Ph\u00e4eton beheld the world on fire, and felt the heat\nintolerable. The air he breathed was like the air of a furnace and\nfull of burning ashes, and the smoke was of a pitchy darkness. He\ndashed forward he knew not whither. Then, it is believed, the\npeople of Aethiopia became black by the blood being forced so\nsuddenly to the surface, and the Libyan desert was dried up to the\ncondition in which it remains to this day. The Nymphs of the\nfountains, with dishevelled hair, mourned their waters, nor were\nthe rivers safe beneath their banks: Tanais smoked, and Caicus,\nXanthus, and Meander; Babylonian Euphrates and Ganges, Tagus with\ngolden sands, and Cayster where the swans resort. Nile fled away\nand hid his head in the desert, and there it still remains\nconcealed. Where he used to discharge his waters through seven\nmouths into the sea, there seven dry channels alone remained. The\nearth cracked open, and through the chinks light broke into\nTartarus, and frightened the king of shadows and his queen. The\nsea shrank up. Where before was water, it became a dry plain; and\nthe mountains that lie beneath the waves lifted up their heads and\nbecame islands. The fishes sought the lowest depths, and the\ndolphins no longer ventured as usual to sport on the surface. Even\nNereus, and his wife Doris, with the Nereids, their daughters,\nsought the deepest caves for refuge. Thrice Neptune essayed to\nraise his head above the surface, and thrice was driven back by\nthe heat. Earth, surrounded as she was by waters, yet with head\nand shoulders bare, screening her face with her hand, looked up to\nheaven, and with a husky voice called on Jupiter:\n\n\"O ruler of the gods, if I have deserved this treatment, and it is\nyour will that I perish with fire, why withhold your thunderbolts?\nLet me at least fall by your hand. Is this the reward of my\nfertility, of my obedient service? Is it for this that I have\nsupplied herbage for cattle, and fruits for men, and frankincense\nfor your altars? But if I am unworthy of regard, what has my\nbrother Ocean done to deserve such a fate? If neither of us can\nexcite your pity, think, I pray you, of your own heaven, and\nbehold how both the poles are smoking which sustain your palace,\nwhich must fall if they be destroyed. Atlas faints, and scarce\nholds up his burden. If sea, earth, and heaven perish, we fall\ninto ancient Chaos. Save what yet remains to us from the devouring\nflame. O, take thought for our deliverance in this awful moment!\"\n\nThus spoke Earth, and overcome with heat and thirst, could say no\nmore. Then Jupiter omnipotent, calling to witness all the gods,\nincluding him who had lent the chariot, and showing them that all\nwas lost unless speedy remedy were applied, mounted the lofty\ntower from whence he diffuses clouds over the earth, and hurls the\nforked lightnings. But at that time not a cloud was to be found to\ninterpose for a screen to earth, nor was a shower remaining\nunexhausted. He thundered, and brandishing a lightning bolt in his\nright hand launched it against the charioteer, and struck him at\nthe same moment from his seat and from existence! Ph\u00e4eton , with\nhis hair on fire, fell headlong, like a shooting star which marks\nthe heavens with its brightness as it falls, and Eridanus, the\ngreat river, received him and cooled his burning frame. The\nItalian Naiads reared a tomb for him, and inscribed these words\nupon the stone:\n\n\"Driver of Ph\u0153bus' chariot Ph\u00e4eton,\n\nStruck by Jove's thunder, rests beneath this stone.\n\nHe could not rule his father's car of fire,\n\nYet was it much so nobly to aspire\"\n\nHis sisters, the Heliades, as they lamented his fate, were turned\ninto poplar trees, on the banks of the river, and their tears,\nwhich continued to flow, became amber as they dropped into the\nstream.\n\nMilman, in his poem of \"Samor,\" makes the following allusion to\nPh\u00e4eton 's story:\n\n\"As when the palsied universe aghast\n\nLay mute and still,\n\nWhen drove, so poets sing, the Sun-born youth\n\nDevious through Heaven's affrighted signs his sire's\n\nIll-granted chariot. Him the Thunderer hurled\n\nFrom th' empyrean headlong to the gulf\n\nOf the half-parched Eridanus, where weep\n\nEven now the sister trees their amber tears\n\nO'er Ph\u00e4eton untimely dead\"\n\nIn the beautiful lines of Walter Savage Landor, descriptive of the\nSea-shell, there is an allusion to the Sun's palace and chariot.\nThe water-nymph says:\n\n\"I have sinuous shells of pearly hue\n\nWithin, and things that lustre have imbibed\n\nIn the sun's palace porch, where when unyoked\n\nHis chariot wheel stands midway on the wave.\n\nShake one and it awakens; then apply\n\nIts polished lip to your attentive ear,\n\nAnd it remembers its august abodes,\n\nAnd murmurs as the ocean murmurs there.\"\n\nGebir, Book I.","title":"The Age of Fable/Chapter V","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":2870}