{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/wikisource_The_Age_of_Fable_Chapter_XXIV/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/wikisource_The_Age_of_Fable_Chapter_XXIV","id":"wikisource_The_Age_of_Fable_Chapter_XXIV","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_XXIV","summary":null,"tags":["Headers_applying_DefaultSort_key","Subpages"],"text":"XXIV. ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE \u2014 ARISTAEUS \u2014 AMPHION \u2014 LINUS \u2014 THAMYRIS \u2014 MARSYAS \u2014 MELAMPUS \u2014 MUSAEUS\n\nORPHEUS AND EURYDICE\n\nOrpheus was the son of Apollo and the Muse Calliope. He was\npresented by his father with a Lyre and taught to play upon it,\nwhich he did to such perfection that nothing could withstand the\ncharm of his music. Not only his fellow-mortals but wild beasts\nwere softened by his strains, and gathering round him laid by\ntheir fierceness, and stood entranced with his lay. Nay, the very\ntrees and rocks were sensible to the charm. The former crowded\nround him and the latter relaxed somewhat of their hardness,\nsoftened by his notes.\n\nHymen had been called to bless with his presence the nuptials of\nOrpheus with Eurydice; but though he attended, he brought no happy\nomens with him. His very torch smoked and brought tears into their\neyes. In coincidence with such prognostics, Eurydice, shortly\nafter her marriage, while wandering with the nymphs, her\ncompanions, was seen by the shepherd Arist\u00e6us, who was struck\nwith her beauty and made advances to her. She fled, and in flying\ntrod upon a snake in the grass, was bitten in the foot, and died.\nOrpheus sang his grief to all who breathed the upper air, both\ngods and men, and finding it all unavailing resolved to seek his\nwife in the regions of the dead. He descended by a cave situated\non the side of the promontory of T\u00e6narus and arrived at the\nStygian realm. He passed through crowds of ghosts and presented\nhimself before the throne of Pluto and Proserpine. Accompanying\nthe words with the lyre, he sung, \"O deities of the underworld, to\nwhom all we who live must come, hear my words, for they are true.\nI come not to spy out the secrets of Tartarus, nor to try my\nstrength against the three-headed dog with snaky hair who guards\nthe entrance. I come to seek my wife, whose opening years the\npoisonous viper's fang has brought to an untimely end. Love has\nled me here, Love, a god all powerful with us who dwell on the\nearth, and, if old traditions say true, not less so here. I\nimplore you by these abodes full of terror, these realms of\nsilence and uncreated things, unite again the thread of Eurydice's\nlife. We all are destined to you and sooner or later must pass to\nyour domain. She too, when she shall have filled her term of life,\nwill rightly be yours. But till then grant her to me, I beseech\nyou. If you deny me I cannot return alone; you shall triumph in\nthe death of us both.\"\n\nAs he sang these tender strains, the very ghosts shed tears.\nTantalus, in spite of his thirst, stopped for a moment his efforts\nfor water, Ixion's wheel stood still, the vulture ceased to tear\nthe giant's liver, the daughters of Danaus rested from their task\nof drawing water in a sieve, and Sisyphus sat on his rock to\nlisten. Then for the first time, it is said, the cheeks of the\nFuries were wet with tears. Proserpine could not resist, and Pluto\nhimself gave way. Eurydice was called. She came from among the\nnew-arrived ghosts, limping with her wounded foot. Orpheus was\npermitted to take her away with him on one condition, that he\nshould not turn around to look at her till they should have\nreached the upper air. Under this condition they proceeded on\ntheir way, he leading, she following, through passages dark and\nsteep, in total silence, till they had nearly reached the outlet\ninto the cheerful upper world, when Orpheus, in a moment of\nforgetfulness, to assure himself that she was still following,\ncast a glance behind him, when instantly she was borne away.\nStretching out their arms to embrace each other, they grasped only\nthe air! Dying now a second time, she yet cannot reproach her\nhusband, for how can she blame his impatience to behold her?\n\"Farewell,\" she said, \"a last farewell,\"--and was hurried away, so\nfast that the sound hardly reached his ears.\n\nOrpheus endeavored to follow her, and besought permission to\nreturn and try once more for her release; but the stern ferryman\nrepulsed him and refused passage. Seven days he lingered about the\nbrink, without food or sleep; then bitterly accusing of cruelty\nthe powers of Erebus, he sang his complaints to the rocks and\nmountains, melting the hearts of tigers and moving the oaks from\ntheir stations. He held himself aloof from womankind, dwelling\nconstantly on the recollection of his sad mischance. The Thracian\nmaidens tried their best to captivate him, but he repulsed their\nadvances. They bore with him as long as they could; but finding\nhim insensible one day, excited by the rites of Bacchus, one of\nthem exclaimed, \"See yonder our despiser!\" and threw at him her\njavelin. The weapon, as soon as it came within the sound of his\nlyre, fell harmless at his feet. So did also the stones that they\nthrew at him. But the women raised a scream and drowned the voice\nof the music, and then the missiles reached him and soon were\nstained with his blood. The maniacs tore him limb from limb, and\nthrew his head and his lyre into the river Hebrus, down which they\nfloated, murmuring sad music, to which the shores responded a\nplaintive symphony. The Muses gathered up the fragments of his\nbody and buried them at Libethra, where the nightingale is said to\nsing over his grave more sweetly than in any other part of Greece.\nHis lyre was placed by Jupiter among the stars. His shade passed a\nsecond time to Tartarus, where he sought out his Eurydice and\nembraced her with eager arms. They roam the happy fields together\nnow, sometimes he leading, sometimes she; and Orpheus gazes as\nmuch as he will upon her, no longer incurring a penalty for a\nthoughtless glance.\n\n\u00a0\n\nThe story of Orpheus has furnished Pope with an illustration of\nthe power of music, for his \"Ode for St. Cecilia's Day\" The\nfollowing stanza relates the conclusion of the story:\n\n\"But soon, too soon the lover turns his eyes;\n\nAgain she falls, again she dies, she dies!\n\nHow wilt thou now the fatal sisters move?\n\nNo crime was thine, if't is no crime to love.\n\nNow under hanging mountains,\n\nBeside the falls of fountains,\n\nOr where Hebrus wanders,\n\nRolling in meanders,\n\nAll alone,\n\nHe makes his moan,\n\nAnd calls her ghost,\n\nForever, ever, ever lost!\n\nNow with furies surrounded,\n\nDespairing, confounded,\n\nHe trembles, he glows,\n\nAmidst Rhodope's snows\n\nSee, wild as the winds o'er the desert he flies;\n\nHark! Haemus resounds with the Bacchanals' cries;\n\nAh, see, he dies!\n\nYet even in death Eurydice he sung,\n\nEurydice still trembled on his tongue:\n\nEurydice the woods\n\nEurydice the floods\n\nEurydice the rocks and hollow mountains rung\"\n\nThe superior melody of the nightingale's song over the grave of\nOrpheus is alluded to by Southey in his \"Thalaba\":\n\nThen on his ear what sounds\n\nOf harmony arose'\n\nFar music and the distance-mellowed song\n\nFrom bowers of merriment,\n\nThe waterfall remote,\n\nThe murmuring of the leafy groves;\n\nThe single nightingale\n\nPerched in the rosier by, so richly toned,\n\nThat never from that most melodious bird\n\nSinging a love song to his brooding mate,\n\nDid Thracian shepherd by the grave\n\nOf Orpheus hear a sweeter melody,\n\nThough there the spirit of the sepulchre\n\nAll his own power infuse, to swell\n\nThe incense that he loves\"\n\nARIST\u00c6US, THE BEE-KEEPER\n\nMan avails himself of the instincts of the inferior animals for\nhis own advantage. Hence sprang the art of keeping bees. Honey\nmust first have been known as a wild product, the bees building\ntheir structures in hollow trees or holes in the rocks, or any\nsimilar cavity that chance offered. Thus occasionally the carcass\nof a dead animal would be occupied by the bees for that purpose.\nIt was no doubt from some such incident that the superstition\narose that the bees were engendered by the decaying flesh of the\nanimal; and Virgil, in the following story, shows how this\nsupposed fact may be turned to account for renewing the swarm when\nit has been lost by disease or accident:\n\nArist\u00e6us, who first taught the management of bees, was the son of\nthe water-nymph Cyrene. His bees had perished, and he resorted for\naid to his mother. He stood at the river side and thus addressed\nher: \"O mother, the pride of my life is taken from me! I have lost\nmy precious bees. My care and skill have availed me nothing, and\nyou my mother have not warded off from me the blow of misfortune.\"\nHis mother heard these complaints as she sat in her palace at the\nbottom of the river, with her attendant nymphs around her. They\nwere engaged in female occupations, spinning and weaving, while\none told stories to amuse the rest. The sad voice of Arist\u00e6us\ninterrupting their occupation, one of them put her head above the\nwater and seeing him, returned and gave information to his mother,\nwho ordered that he should be brought into her presence. The river\nat her command opened itself and let him pass in, while it stood\ncurled like a mountain on either side. He descended to the region\nwhere the fountains of the great rivers lie; he saw the enormous\nreceptacles of waters and was almost deafened with the roar, while\nhe surveyed them hurrying off in various directions to water the\nface of the earth. Arriving at his mother's apartment, he was\nhospitably received by Cyrene and her nymphs, who spread their\ntable with the richest dainties. They first poured out libations\nto Neptune, then regaled themselves with the feast, and after that\nCyrene thus addressed him: \"There is an old prophet named Proteus,\nwho dwells in the sea and is a favorite of Neptune, whose herd of\nsea-calves he pastures. We nymphs hold him in great respect, for\nhe is a learned sage and knows all things, past, present, and to\ncome. He can tell you, my son, the cause of the mortality among\nyour bees, and how you may remedy it. But he will not do it\nvoluntarily, however you may entreat him. You must compel him by\nforce. If you seize him and chain him, he will answer your\nquestions in order to get released, for he cannot by all his arts\nget away if you hold fast the chains. I will carry you to his\ncave, where he comes at noon to take his midday repose. Then you\nmay easily secure him. But when he finds himself captured, his\nresort is to a power he possesses of changing himself into various\nforms. He will become a wild boar or a fierce tiger, a scaly\ndragon or lion with yellow mane. Or he will make a noise like the\ncrackling of flames or the rush of water, so as to tempt you to\nlet go the chain, when he will make his escape. But you have only\nto keep him fast bound, and at last when he finds all his arts\nunavailing, he will return to his own figure and obey your\ncommands.\" So saying she sprinkled her son with fragrant nectar,\nthe beverage of the gods, and immediately an unusual vigor filled\nhis frame, and courage his heart, while perfume breathed all\naround him.\n\nThe nymph led her son to the prophet's cave and concealed him\namong the recesses of the rocks, while she herself took her place\nbehind the clouds. When noon came and the hour when men and herds\nretreat from the glaring sun to indulge in quiet slumber, Proteus\nissued from the water, followed by his herd of sea-calves which\nspread themselves along the shore. He sat on the rock and counted\nhis herd; then stretched himself on the floor of the cave and went\nto sleep. Arist\u00e6us hardly allowed him to get fairly asleep before\nhe fixed the fetters on him and shouted aloud. Proteus, waking and\nfinding himself captured, immediately resorted to his arts,\nbecoming first a fire, then a flood, then a horrible wild beast,\nin rapid succession. But finding all would not do, he at last\nresumed his own form and addressed the youth in angry accents:\n\"Who are you, bold youth, who thus invade my abode, and what do\nyot want of me?\" Arist\u00e6us replied, \"Proteus, you know already,\nfor it is needless for any one to attempt to deceive you. And do\nyou also cease your efforts to elude me. I am led hither by divine\nassistance, to know from you the cause of my misfortune and how to\nremedy it.\" At these words the prophet, fixing on him his gray\neyes with a piercing look, thus spoke: \"You receive the merited\nreward of your deeds, by which Eurydice met her death, for in\nflying from you she trod upon a serpent, of whose bite she died.\nTo avenge her death, the nymphs, her companions, have sent this\ndestruction to your bees. You have to appease their anger, and\nthus it must be done: Select four bulls, of perfect form and size,\nand four cows of equal beauty, build four altars to the nymphs,\nand sacrifice the animals, leaving their carcasses in the leafy\ngrove. To Orpheus and Eurydice you shall pay such funeral honors\nas may allay their resentment. Returning after nine days, you will\nexamine the bodies of the cattle slain and see what will befall.\"\nArist\u00e6us faithfully obeyed these directions. He sacrificed the\ncattle, he left their bodies in the grove, he offered funeral\nhonors to the shades of Orpheus and Eurydice; then returning on\nthe ninth day he examined the bodies of the animals, and,\nwonderful to relate! a swarm of bees had taken possession of one\nof the carcasses and were pursuing their labors there as in a\nhive.\n\nIn \"The Task,\" Cowper alludes to the story of Aristaeus, when\nspeaking of the ice-palace built by the Empress Anne of Russia. He\nhas been describing the fantastic forms which ice assumes in\nconnection with waterfalls, etc.:\n\n\"Less worthy of applause though more admired\n\nBecause a novelty, the work of man,\n\nImperial mistress of the fur-clad Russ,\n\nThy most magnificent and mighty freak,\n\nThe wonder of the north. No forest fell\n\nWhen thou wouldst build, no quarry sent its stores\n\nT' enrich thy walls; but thou didst hew the floods\n\nAnd make thy marble of the glassy wave.\n\nIn such a palace Arist\u00e6us found\n\nCyrene, when he bore the plaintive tale\n\nOf his lost bees to her maternal ear.\"\n\nMilton also appears to have had Cyrene and her domestic scene in\nhis mind when he describes to us Sabrina, the nymph of the river\nSevern, in the Guardian-spirit's Song in \"Comus\":\n\n\"Sabrina fair!\n\nListen where thou art sitting\n\nUnder the glassy, cool, translucent wave\n\nIn twisted braids of lilies knitting\n\nThe loose train of thy amber-dropping hair;\n\nListen for dear honor's sake,\n\nGoddess of the silver lake!\n\nListen and save.\"\n\nThe following are other celebrated mythical poets and musicians,\nsome of whom were hardly inferior to Orpheus himself:\n\nAMPHION\n\nAmphion was the son of Jupiter and Antiope, queen of Thebes. With\nhis twin brother Zethus he was exposed at birth on Mount\nCith\u00e6ron, where they grew up among the shepherds, not knowing\ntheir parentage. Mercury gave Amphion a lyre and taught him to\nplay upon it, and his brother occupied himself in hunting and\ntending the flocks. Meanwhile Antiope, their mother, who had been\ntreated with great cruelty by Lycus, the usurping king of Thebes,\nand by Dirce, his wife, found means to inform her children of\ntheir rights and to summon them to her assistance. With a band of\ntheir fellow-herdsmen they attacked and slew Lycus, and tying\nDirce by the hair of her head to a bull, let him drag her till she\nwas dead. Amphion, having become king of Thebes, fortified the\ncity with a wall. It is said that when he played on his lyre the\nstones moved of their own accord and took their places in the\nwall.\n\nSee Tennyson's poem of \"Amphion\" for an amusing use made of this\nstory.\n\nLINUS\n\nLinus was the instructor of Hercules in music, but having one day\nreproved his pupil rather harshly, he roused the anger of\nHercules, who struck him with his lyre and killed him.\n\nTHAMYRIS\n\nAn ancient Thracian bard, who in his presumption challenged the\nMuses to a trial of skill, and being overcome in the contest, was\ndeprived by them of his sight. Milton alludes to him with other\nblind bards, when speaking of his own blindness, \"Paradise Lost,\"\nBook III., 35.\n\nMARSYAS\n\nMinerva invented the flute, and played upon it to the delight of\nall the celestial auditors; but the mischievous urchin Cupid\nhaving dared to laugh at the queer face which the goddess made\nwhile playing, Minerva threw the instrument indignantly away, and\nit fell down to earth, and was found by Marsyas. He blew upon it,\nand drew from it such ravishing sounds that he was tempted to\nchallenge Apollo himself to a musical contest. The god of course\ntriumphed, and punished Marsyas by flaying him alive.\n\nMELAMPUS\n\nMelampus was the first mortal endowed with prophetic powers.\nBefore his house there stood an oak tree containing a serpent's\nnest. The old serpents were killed by the servants, but Melampus\ntook care of the young ones and fed them carefully. One day when\nhe was asleep under the oak the serpents licked his ears with\ntheir tongues. On awaking he was astonished to find that he now\nunderstood the language of birds and creeping things. This\nknowledge enabled him to foretell future events, and he became a\nrenowned soothsayer. At one time his enemies took him captive and\nkept him strictly imprisoned. Melampus in the silence of the night\nheard the woodworms in the timbers talking together, and found out\nby what they said that the timbers were nearly eaten through and\nthe roof would soon fall in. He told his captors and demanded to\nbe let out, warning them also. They took his warning, and thus\nescaped destruction, and rewarded Melampus and held him in high\nhonor.\n\nMUSAEUS\n\nA semi-mythological personage who was represented by one\ntradition to be the son of Orpheus. He is said to have written\nsacred poems and oracles. Milton couples his name with that of\nOrpheus in his \"Il Penseroso\":\n\n\"But O, sad virgin, that thy power\n\nMight raise Musaeus from his bower,\n\nOr bid the soul of Orpheus sing\n\nSuch notes as warbled to the string,\n\nDrew iron tears down Pluto's cheek,\n\nAnd made Hell grant what love did seek.\"","title":"The Age of Fable/Chapter XXIV","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":3142}