{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/wikisource_The_Age_of_Fable_Chapter_XVIII/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/wikisource_The_Age_of_Fable_Chapter_XVIII","id":"wikisource_The_Age_of_Fable_Chapter_XVIII","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_XVIII","summary":null,"tags":["Headers_applying_DefaultSort_key","Subpages"],"text":"XVIII. MELEAGER AND ATALANTA\n\nOne of the heroes of the Argonautic expedition was Meleager, son\nof \u0152neus and Althea, king and queen of Calydon. Althea, when her\nson was born, beheld the three destinies, who, as they spun their\nfatal thread, foretold that the life of the child should last no\nlonger than a brand then burning upon the hearth. Althea seized\nand quenched the brand, and carefully preserved it for years,\nwhile Meleager grew to boyhood, youth, and manhood. It chanced,\nthen, that \u0152neus, as he offered sacrifices to the gods, omitted\nto pay due honors to Diana; and she, indignant at the neglect,\nsent a wild boar of enormous size to lay waste the fields of\nCalydon. Its eyes shone with blood and fire, its bristles stood\nlike threatening spears, its tusks were like those of Indian\nelephants. The growing corn was trampled, the vines and olive\ntrees laid waste, the flocks and herds were driven in wild\nconfusion by the slaughtering foe. All common aid seemed vain; but\nMeleager called on the heroes of Greece to join in a bold hunt for\nthe ravenous monster. Theseus and his friend Pirithous, Jason,\nPeleus, afterwards the father of Achilles, Telamon the father of\nAjax, Nestor, then a youth, but who in his age bore arms with\nAchilles and Ajax in the Trojan war,\u2014these and many more joined\nin the enterprise. With them came Atalanta, the daughter of\nIasius, king of Arcadia. A buckle of polished gold confined her\nvest, an ivory quiver hung on her left shoulder, and her left hand\nbore the bow. Her face blent feminine beauty with the best graces\nof martial youth. Meleager saw and loved.\n\nBut now already they were near the monster's lair. They stretched\nstrong nets from tree to tree; they uncoupled their dogs, they\ntried to find the footprints of their quarry in the grass. From\nthe wood was a descent to marshy ground. Here the boar, as he lay\namong the reeds, heard the shouts of his pursuers, and rushed\nforth against them. One and another is thrown down and slain.\nJason throws his spear, with a prayer to Diana for success; and\nthe favoring goddess allows the weapon to touch, but not to wound,\nremoving the steel point of the spear in its flight. Nestor,\nassailed, seeks and finds safety in the branches of a tree.\nTelamon rushes on, but stumbling at a projecting root, falls\nprone. But an arrow from Atalanta at length for the first time\ntastes the monster's blood. It is a slight wound, but Meleager\nsees and joyfully proclaims it. Anceus, excited to envy by the\npraise given to a female, loudly proclaims his own valor, and\ndefies alike the boar and the goddess who had sent it; but as he\nrushes on, the infuriated beast lays him low with a mortal wound.\nTheseus throws his lance, but it is turned aside by a projecting\nbough. The dart of Jason misses its object, and kills instead one\nof their own dogs. But Meleager, after one unsuccessful stroke,\ndrives his spear into the monster's side, then rushes on and\ndespatches him with repeated blows.\n\nThen rose a shout from those around; they congratulated the\nconqueror, crowding to touch his hand. He, placing his foot upon\nthe head of the slain boar, turned to Atalanta and bestowed on her\nthe head and the rough hide which were the trophies of his\nsuccess. But at this, envy excited the rest to strife. Plexippus\nand Toxeus, the brothers of Meleager's mother, beyond the rest\nopposed the gift, and snatched from the maiden the trophy she had\nreceived. Meleager, kindling with rage at the wrong done to\nhimself, and still more at the insult offered to her whom he\nloved, forgot the claims of kindred, and plunged his sword into\nthe offenders' hearts.\n\nAs Althea bore gifts of thankfulness to the temples for the\nvictory of her son, the bodies of her murdered brothers met her\nsight. She shrieks, and beats her breast, and hastens to change\nthe garments of rejoicing for those of mourning. But when the\nauthor of the deed is known, grief gives way to the stern desire\nof vengeance on her son. The fatal brand, which once she rescued\nfrom the flames, the brand which the destinies had linked with\nMeleager's life, she brings forth, and commands a fire to be\nprepared. Then four times she essays to place the brand upon the\npile; four times draws back, shuddering at the thought of bringing\ndestruction on her son. The feelings of the mother and the sister\ncontend within her. Now she is pale at the thought of the proposed\ndeed, now flushed again with anger at the act of her son. As a\nvessel, driven in one direction by the wind, and in the opposite\nby the tide, the mind of Althea hangs suspended in uncertainty.\nBut now the sister prevails above the mother, and she begins as\nshe holds the fatal wood: \"Turn, ye Furies, goddesses of\npunishment! turn to behold the sacrifice I bring! Crime must atone\nfor crime. Shall \u0152neus rejoice in his victor son, while the house\nof Thestius is desolate? But, alas! to what deed am I borne along?\nBrothers forgive a mother's weakness! my hand fails me. He\ndeserves death, but not that I should destroy him. But shall he\nthen live, and triumph, and reign over Calydon, while you, my\nbrothers, wander unavenged among the shades? No! thou hast lived\nby my gift; die, now, for thine own crime. Return the life which\ntwice I gave thee, first at thy birth, again when I snatched this\nbrand from the flames. O that thou hadst then died! Alas! evil is\nthe conquest; but, brothers, ye have conquered.\" And, turning away\nher face, she threw the fatal wood upon the burning pile.\n\nIt gave, or seemed to give, a deadly groan. Meleager, absent and\nunknowing of the cause, felt a sudden pang. He burns, and only by\ncourageous pride conquers the pain which destroys him. He mourns\nonly that he perishes by a bloodless and unhonored death. With his\nlast breath he calls upon his aged father, his brother, and his\nfond sisters, upon his beloved Atalanta, and upon his mother, the\nunknown cause of his fate. The flames increase, and with them the\npain of the hero. Now both subside; now both are quenched. The\nbrand is ashes, and the life of Meleager is breathed forth to the\nwandering winds.\n\nAlthea, when the deed was done, laid violent hands upon herself.\nThe sisters of Meleager mourned their brother with uncontrollable\ngrief; till Diana, pitying the sorrows of the house that once had\naroused her anger, turned them into birds.\n\nATALANTA\n\nThe innocent cause of so much sorrow was a maiden whose face you\nmight truly say was boyish for a girl, yet too girlish for a boy.\nHer fortune had been told, and it was to this effect: \"Atalanta,\ndo not marry; marriage will be your ruin.\" Terrified by this\noracle, she fled the society of men, and devoted herself to the\nsports of the chase. To all suitors (for she had many) she imposed\na condition which was generally effectual in relieving her of\ntheir persecutions,\u2014\"I will be the prize of him who shall conquer\nme in the race; but death must be the penalty of all who try and\nfail.\" In spite of this hard condition some would try. Hippomenes\nwas to be judge of the race. \"Can it be possible that any will be\nso rash as to risk so much for a wife?\" said he. But when he saw\nher lay aside her robe for the race, he changed his mind, and\nsaid, \"Pardon me, youths, I knew not the prize you were competing\nfor.\" As he surveyed them he wished them all to be beaten, and\nswelled with envy of any one that seemed at all likely to win.\nWhile such were his thoughts, the virgin darted forward. As she\nran she looked more beautiful than ever. The breezes seemed to\ngive wings to her feet; her hair flew over her shoulders, and the\ngay fringe of her garment fluttered behind her. A ruddy hue tinged\nthe whiteness of her skin, such as a crimson curtain casts on a\nmarble wall. All her competitors were distanced, and were put to\ndeath without mercy. Hippomenes, not daunted by this result,\nfixing his eyes on the virgin, said, \"Why boast of beating those\nlaggards? I offer myself for the contest.\" Atalanta looked at him\nwith a pitying countenance, and hardly knew whether she would\nrather conquer him or not. \"What god can tempt one so young and\nhandsome to throw himself away? I pity him, not for his beauty\n(yet he is beautiful), but for his youth. I wish he would give up\nthe race, or if he will be so mad, I hope he may outrun me.\" While\nshe hesitates, revolving these thoughts, the spectators grow\nimpatient for the race, and her father prompts her to prepare.\nThen Hippomenes addressed a prayer to Venus: \"Help me, Venus, for\nyou have led me on.\" Venus heard and was propitious.\n\nIn the garden of her temple, in her own island of Cyprus, is a\ntree with yellow leaves and yellow branches and golden fruit.\nHence she gathered three golden apples, and, unseen by any one\nelse, gave them to Hippomenes, and told him how to use them. The\nsignal is given; each starts from the goal and skims over the\nsand. So light their tread, you would almost have thought they\nmight run over the river surface or over the waving grain without\nsinking. The cries of the spectators cheered Hippomenes,\u2014\"Now,\nnow, do your best! haste, haste! you gain on her! relax not! one\nmore effort!\" It was doubtful whether the youth or the maiden\nheard these cries with the greater pleasure. But his breath began\nto fail him, his throat was dry, the goal yet far off. At that\nmoment he threw down one of the golden apples. The virgin was all\namazement. She stopped to pick it up. Hippomenes shot ahead.\nShouts burst forth from all sides. She redoubled her efforts, and\nsoon overtook him. Again he threw an apple. She stopped again, but\nagain came up with him. The goal was near; one chance only\nremained. \"Now, goddess,\" said he, \"prosper your gift!\" and threw\nthe last apple off at one side. She looked at it, and hesitated;\nVenus impelled her to turn aside for it. She did so, and was\nvanquished. The youth carried off his prize.\n\nBut the lovers were so full of their own happiness that they\nforgot to pay due honor to Venus; and the goddess was provoked at\ntheir ingratitude. She caused them to give offence to Cybele. That\npowerful goddess was not to be insulted with impunity. She took\nfrom them their human form and turned them into animals of\ncharacters resembling their own: of the huntress-heroine,\ntriumphing in the blood of her lovers, she made a lioness, and of\nher lord and master a lion, and yoked them to her car, where they\nare still to be seen in all representations, in statuary or\npainting, of the goddess Cybele.\n\n\u00a0\n\nCybele is the Latin name of the goddess called by the Greeks Rhea\nand Ops. She was the wife of Cronos and mother of Zeus. In works\nof art she exhibits the matronly air which distinguishes Juno and\nCeres. Sometimes she is veiled, and seated on a throne with lions\nat her side, at other times riding in a chariot drawn by lions.\nShe wears a mural crown, that is, a crown whose rim is carved in\nthe form of towers and battlements. Her priests were called\nCorybantes.\n\n\u00a0\n\nByron, in describing the city of Venice, which is built on a low\nisland in the Adriatic Sea, borrows an illustration from Cybele:\n\n\"She looks a sea-Cybele fresh from ocean,\n\nRising with her tiara of proud towers\n\nAt airy distance, with majestic motion,\n\nA ruler of the waters and their powers.\"\n\n\u2014Childe Harold, IV.\n\nIn Moore's \"Rhymes on the Road,\" the poet, speaking of Alpine\nscenery, alludes to the story of Atalanta and Hippomenes thus:\n\n\"Even here, in this region of wonders, I find\n\nThat light-footed Fancy leaves Truth far behind,\n\nOr at least, like Hippomenes, turns her astray\n\nBy the golden illusions he flings in her way.\"","title":"The Age of Fable/Chapter XVIII","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":2087}