The Classic Myths in English Literature and in Art (2nd ed.) (1911)

170. Castor and Pollux. Leda, the sister of Althæa and aunt of Meleager, bore to Tyndareus, king of Sparta, Castor and Clytemnestra. To Jove she bore Pollux and Helen. Pollux and Castor – one, the son of a god and immortal, the other, of mortal breed and destiny – are famous for their fraternal affection. Endowed with various manly virtues, – Castor a horse-tamer, Pollux a boxer, – they made all expeditions in common. Together they joined the Calydonian hunt. Together they accompanied the Argonauts. During the voyage to Colchis it is said that, a storm arising, Orpheus prayed to the Samothracian gods and played on his harp, and that when the storm ceased, stars appeared on the heads of the brothers. Hence they came to be honored as patrons of voyagers.

They rendered, indeed, noteworthy service to the Argonauts returning from Colchis with Medea and the Golden Fleece. For when the voyagers attempted a landing at Crete they were confronted by the gigantic warder of the island. This was Talus, a form of living brass, fashioned by Hephæstus (Vulcan) and presented to King Minos, about whose Cretan domain he made his rounds three times a day. Ordinarily when Talus saw voyagers nearing the coast he fired himself red-hot and embraced them as they landed. For some reason he did not welcome the Argonauts in this warm fashion, but

Whirling with resistless swayRocks sheer uprent, repels them from the bay.[1]

Medea, objecting to the volley of stones, resorts to necromantic spells:

Thrice she applies the power of magic prayer,Thrice, hellward bending, mutters charms in air;Then, turning toward the foe, bids Mischief fly,And looks Destruction as she points her eye.253

Maddened, as might be surmised, by so insidious and unaccustomed a form of attack, the Man of Brass "tears up whole hills to crush his foes"; then fleeing in sudden panic, he is overcome by the stupor of the enchantment and taken captive by Castor and Pollux. He had in his body only one vein, and that plugged on the crown of his head with a nail. Medea drew out the stopper.

At a later period when Theseus and his friend Pirithoüs had carried off Helen from Sparta, the youthful heroes, Castor and Pollux, with their followers hasted to the rescue. Theseus being absent from Attica, the brothers recovered their sister. Later still, we find Castor and Pollux engaged in a combat with Idas and Lynceus of Messene, some say over the daughters of Leucippus, others, over a herd of oxen. Castor was slain; but Pollux, inconsolable for the loss of his brother, besought Jupiter to be permitted to give his own life as a ransom for him. Jupiter so far consented as to allow the two brothers to enjoy the boon of life alternately, each spending one day under the earth and the next in the heavenly abodes. According to another version, Jupiter rewarded the attachment of the brothers by placing them among the stars as Gemini, the Twins. They received heroic honors as the Tyndaridæ (sons of Tyndareus); divine honors they received under the name of Dioscuri (sons of Jove).254

171. The Twin Brethren among the Romans. In Rome they were honored with a temple in the Forum and made the patrons of knighthood because of the assistance they rendered in the battle of Lake Regillus. In the moment of dire distress they had appeared, a princely pair:

So like they were, no mortalMight one from other know;White as snow their armor was,Their steeds were white as snow.Never on earthly anvilDid such rare armor gleam,And never did such gallant steedsDrink of an earthly stream.And all who saw them trembled,And pale grew every cheek;And Aulus the DictatorScarce gathered voice to speak:"Say by what name men call you?What city is your home?And wherefore ride ye in such guiseBefore the ranks of Rome?"

Fig. 136. Castor and Pollux capturing the Giant Talus

(Left portion)

"By many names," they answered, —

"By many names men call us;In many lands we dwell:Well Samothracia knows us;Cyrene knows us well;Our house in gay TarentumIs hung each morn with flowers;High o'er the masts of SyracuseOur marble portal towers;But by the brave EurotasIs our dear native home;And for the right we come to fightBefore the ranks of Rome."

After the battle was won they were the first to bear the tidings to the city. With joy the people acclaimed them, —

But on rode these strange horsemen,With slow and lordly pace;And none who saw their bearingDurst ask their name or race.On rode they to the Forum,While laurel boughs and flowers,From housetops and from windows,Fell on their crests in showers.When they drew nigh to Vesta,They vaulted down amain,And washed their horses in the wellThat springs by Vesta's fane.And straight again they mounted,And rode to Vesta's door;Then, like a blast, away they passed,And no man saw them more…And Sergius the High PontiffAlone found voice to speak:"The gods who live foreverHave fought for Rome to-day!These be the Great Twin BrethrenTo whom the Dorians pray.Back comes the chief in triumphWho, in the hour of fight,Hath seen the Great Twin BrethrenIn harness on his right.Safe comes the ship to haven,Through billows and through galesIf once the Great Twin BrethrenSit shining on the sails…Here, hard by Vesta's temple,Build we a stately domeUnto the Great Twin BrethrenWho fought so well for Rome!"255

Fig. 137. Castor and Pollux capturing the Giant Talus

(Right portion)

For many a year the procession, in which the knights, olive-wreathed and purple-robed, marched in honor of the Twin Brethren, continued to be held; and still there stand three columns of their temple above the pool of Juturna and Vesta's ruined shrine.

CHAPTER XVII

THE HOUSE OF MINOS

172. Minos of Crete was a descendant of Inachus in the sixth generation. A son of Jupiter and Europa, he was, after death, transferred, with his brother Rhadamanthus and with King Æacus, to Hades, where the three became judges of the Shades. This is the Minos mentioned by Homer and Hesiod, – the eminent lawgiver. Of his grandson, Minos II, it is related that when aiming at the crown of Crete, he boasted of his power to obtain by prayer whatever he desired, and as a test, he implored Neptune to send him a bull for sacrifice. The bull appeared, but Minos, astonished at its great beauty, declined to sacrifice the brute. Neptune, therefore incensed, drove the bull wild, – worse still, drove Pasiphaë, the wife of Minos, wild with love of it. The wonderful brute was finally caught and overcome by Hercules, who rode it through the waves to Greece. But its offspring, the Minotaur, a monster bull-headed and man-bodied, remained for many a day a terror to Crete, till finally a famous artificer, Dædalus, constructed for him a labyrinth, with passages and turnings winding in and about like the river Mæander, so that whoever was inclosed in it might by no means find his way out. The Minotaur, roaming therein, lived upon human victims. For it is said that, after Minos had subdued Megara,256 a tribute of seven youths and seven maidens was sent every year from Athens to Crete to feed this monster; and it was not until the days of Theseus of Athens that an end was put to both tribute and Minotaur.257

173. Dædalus and Icarus. 258 Dædalus, who abetted the love of Pasiphaë for the Cretan bull, afterwards lost the favor of Minos and was imprisoned by him. Seeing no other way of escape, the artificer made, out of feathers, wings for his son Icarus and himself, which he fastened on with wax. Then poising themselves in the air, they flew away. Icarus had been warned not to approach too near the sun, and all went well till they had passed Samos and Delos on the left and Lebynthos on the right. But then the boy, exulting in his career, soared upward. The blaze of the torrid sun softened the waxen fastening of his wings. Off they came, and down the lad dropped into the sea which after him is named Icarian, even to this day.

Fig. 138. Dædalus and Icarus

… With melting wax and loosened stringsSunk hapless Icarus on unfaithful wings;Headlong he rushed through the affrighted air,With limbs distorted and disheveled hair;His scattered plumage danced upon the wave,And sorrowing Nereïds decked his watery grave;O'er his pale corse their pearly sea flowers shed,And strewed with crimson moss his marble bed;Struck in their coral towers the passing bell,And wide in ocean tolled his echoing knell.259

The story, save for its tragic conclusion, reads like a remarkable anticipation of the exploits of the Wright brothers, Blériot, and Latham with the aëroplane to-day, or of Count Zeppelin with his airships.

Dædalus, mourning his son, arrived finally in Sicily where, being kindly received by King Cocalus, he built a temple to Apollo and hung up his wings, an offering to the god. But Minos, having learned of the hiding place of the artificer, followed him to Sicily with a great fleet; and Dædalus would surely have perished, had not one of the daughters of Cocalus disposed of Minos by scalding him to death while he was bathing.

It is said that Dædalus could not bear the idea of a rival. His sister had placed her son Perdix under his charge to be taught the mechanical arts. He was an apt scholar and gave striking evidences of ingenuity. Walking on the seashore, he picked up the spine of a fish, and, imitating it in iron, invented the saw. He invented, also, a pair of compasses. But Dædalus, envious of his nephew, pushed him off a tower and killed him. Minerva, however, in pity of the boy, changed him into a bird, the partridge, which bears his name.

To the descendants of Inachus we shall again return in the account of the house of Labdacus.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE HOUSE OF CECROPS AND ERICHTHONIUS

Fig. 139. Theseus

174. From Cecrops 260 to Philomela. Cecrops, half-snake, half-man, came from Crete or Egypt into Attica, founded Athens, and chose Minerva rather than Neptune as its guardian. His successor was Erichthonius,261 or Erechtheus, a snake-formed genius of the fertile soil of Attica. This Erichthonius262 was a special ward of the goddess Minerva, who brought him up in her temple. His son Pandion had two daughters, Procne and Philomela, of whom he gave the former in marriage to Tereus, king of Thrace (or of Daulis in Phocis). This ruler, after his wife had borne him a son Itys (or Itylus), wearied of her, plucked out her tongue by the roots to insure her silence, and, pretending that she was dead, took in marriage the other sister, Philomela. Procne by means of a web, into which she wove her story, informed Philomela of the horrible truth. In revenge upon Tereus, the sisters killed Itylus and served up the child as food to the father; but the gods, in indignation, transformed Procne into a swallow, Philomela into a nightingale, forever bemoaning the murdered Itylus, and Tereus into a hawk, forever pursuing the sisters.263

175. Matthew Arnold's Philomela.

Hark! ah, the nightingale —The tawny-throated!Hark, from that moonlit cedar what a burst!What triumph! hark! – what pain!O wanderer from a Grecian shore,Still, after many years in distant lands,Still nourishing in thy bewilder'd brainThat wild, unquench'd, deep-sunken, old-world pain —Say, will it never heal?And can this fragrant lawnWith its cool trees, and night,And the sweet, tranquil Thames,And moonshine, and the dew,To thy rack'd heart and brainAfford no calm?Dost thou to-night behold,Here, through the moonlight on this English grass,The unfriendly palace in the Thracian wild?Dost thou again peruse,With hot cheeks and sear'd eyes,The too clear web, and thy dumb sister's shame?Dost thou once more assayThy flight, and feel come over thee,Poor fugitive, the feathery changeOnce more, and once more seem to make resoundWith love and hate, triumph and agony,Lone Daulis, and the high Cephissian vale?Listen, Eugenia —How thick the bursts come crowding through the leaves!Again – thou hearest?Eternal passion!Eternal pain!

According to another version of this story, it was Philomela who was robbed of her tongue and who wove the web by means of which the queen Procne learned the truth.

176. Theseus. 264 A descendant of Erechtheus, or of Cecrops, was Ægeus, king of Athens. By Æthra, granddaughter of Pelops, he became the father of the Attic hero, Theseus. Ægeus, on parting from Æthra, before the birth of the child, had placed his sword and shoes under a large stone and had directed her to send the child to him if it should prove strong enough to roll away the stone and take what was under. The lad Theseus was brought up at Trœzen, of which Pittheus, Æthra's father, was king. When Æthra thought the time had come, she led Theseus to the stone. He removed it with ease and took the sword and shoes. Since at that time the roads were infested with robbers, his grandfather Pittheus pressed him earnestly to take the shorter and safer way to his father's country, by sea; but the youth, feeling in himself the spirit and soul of a hero and eager to signalize himself like Hercules, determined on the more perilous and adventurous journey by land.

Fig. 140. Æthra and Theseus

His first day's journey brought him to Epidaurus, where dwelt Periphetes, a son of Vulcan. This ferocious savage always went armed with a club of iron, and all travelers stood in terror of his violence; but beneath the blows of the young hero he speedily fell.

Several similar contests with the petty tyrants and marauders of the country followed, in all of which Theseus was victorious. Most important was his slaughter of Procrustes, or the Stretcher. This giant had an iron bedstead on which he used to tie all travelers who fell into his hands. If they were shorter than the bed, he stretched them till they fitted it; if they were longer than the bed, he lopped off their limbs.

In the course of time Theseus reached Athens, but here new dangers awaited him. For Medea, the sorceress, who had fled from Corinth after her separation from Jason,265 had become the wife of Ægeus. Knowing by her arts who the stranger was, and fearing the loss of her influence with her husband if Theseus should be acknowledged as his son, she tried to poison the youth; but the sword which he wore discovered him to his father and prevented the fatal draft. Medea fled to Asia, where the country afterwards called Media is said to have received its name from her. Theseus was acknowledged by his sire and declared successor to the throne.

Fig. 141. Theseus and the Minotaur

177. Theseus and Ariadne.266 Now the Athenians were at that time in deep affliction on account of the tribute of youths and maidens which they were forced to send to the Minotaur, dwelling in the labyrinth of Crete, – a penalty said to have been imposed by Minos upon the Athenians because Ægeus had sent Androgeüs, the son of Minos, against the Marathonian bull and so had brought about the young man's death.

From this calamity Theseus resolved to deliver his countrymen or to die in the attempt. He, therefore, in spite of the entreaties of his father, presented himself as champion of Athens and of her fair sons and daughters, to do battle against the Minotaur, and departed with the victims in a vessel bearing black sails, which he promised his father to change for white in the event of his returning victorious. So, —

Rather than cargo on cargo of corpses undead should be wafted267Over the ravening sea to the pitiless monster of Creta, —Leaving the curvèd strand Piræan, and wooing the breezes,Theseus furrowed the deep to the dome superb of the tyrant.Then as the maid Ariadne beheld him with glances of longing, —Princess royal of Creta Minoan, tender, sequestered, —Locked in a mother's embrace, in seclusion virginal, fragrant,Like some myrtle set by streaming ways of Eurotas,Like to the varied tints that Spring invites with her breezes, —Then, as with eager gaze she looked her first upon Theseus,Never a whit she lowered her eyes nor ceased to consume him,Ere to the core profound her breast with love was enkindled.– God-born boy, thou pitiless heart, provoker of madness,Mischievous, mingling care with the fleeting pleasure of mortals, —Goddess of Golgi, thou, frequenter of coverts Idalian,In what wildering seas ye tossed the impassionate maidenEver a-sighing, – aye for the fair-haired stranger a-sighing!Ah, what ponderous fears oppressed her languishing bosom,How, more pallid than gold her countenance flashed into whiteness,What time Theseus marched unto death or to glory undying,Manful, minded to quell the imbruted might of the monster!

Not unaided, however, did he undertake the task; for Ariadne, apprehensive lest he might lose his way in the dædalian labyrinth, furnished him with a thread, the gift of Vulcan, which, unrolled by Theseus as he entered the maze, should enable him on his return to retrace his former path. Meanwhile —

Offering artless bribes, Ariadne invoked the Immortals,Kindled voiceless lip with unvoicèd tribute of incense,Suppliant, not in vain: for, like to an oak upon Taurus,Gnarlèd, swinging his arms, – like some cone-burthenèd pine treeOozing the life from his bark, that, riven to heart by the whirlwind,Wholly uprooted from earth, falls prone with extravagant ruin,Perishes, dealing doom with precipitate rush of its branches, —So was the Cretan brute by Theseus done to destruction,E'en so, tossing in vain his horns to the vacuous breezes.Then with abundant laud he turned, unscathed from the combat,Theseus, – guiding his feet unsure by the filament slender,Lest as he threaded paths circuitous, ways labyrinthine,Some perverse, perplexing, erratic alley might foil him.Why should I tarry to tell how, quitting her sire, AriadneQuitting the sister's arms, the infatuate gaze of the mother, —She whose sole delight, whose life, was her desperate daughter, —How Ariadne made less of the love of them all than of Theseus?Why should I sing how sailing they came to the beaches of Dia, —White with the foam, – how thence, false-hearted, the lover departingLeft her benighted with sleep, the Minoïd, princess of Creta?

Fig. 142. The Sleeping Ariadne

Gazing amain from the marge of the flood-reverberant Dia,Chafing with ire, indignant, exasperate, – lo, Ariadne,Lorn Ariadne, beholds swift craft, swift lover retreating.Nor can be sure she sees what things she sees of a surety,When upspringing from sleep, she shakes off treacherous slumber,Lone beholds herself on a shore forlorn of the ocean.Carelessly hastens the youth, meantime, who, driving his oar-bladesHard in the waves, consigns void vows to the blustering breezes.But as, afar from the sedge, with sad eyes still the MinoïdMute as a Mænad in stone unmoving stonily gazes —Heart o'erwhelmed with woe – ah, thus, while thus she is gazing, —Down from her yellow hair slips, sudden, the weed of the fine-spunSnood, and the vesture light of her mantle down from the shouldersSlips, and the twisted scarf encircling her womanly bosom;Stealthily gliding, slip they downward into the billow,Fall, and are tossed by the buoyant flood at the feet of the fair one.Nothing she recks of the coif, of the floating garment as little,Cares not a moment then, whose care hangs only on Theseus, —Wretched of heart, soul-wrecked, dependent only on Theseus, —Desperate, woe-unselfed with a cureless sorrow incessant,Frantic, bosoming torture of thorns Erycina had planted…Then, they say, that at last, infuriate out of all measure,Once and again she poured shrill-voicèd shrieks from her bosom;Helpless, clambered steeps, sheer beetling over the surges,Whence to enrange with her eyes vast futile regions of ocean; —Lifting the folds, soft folds of her garments, baring her ankles,Dashed into edges of upward waves that trembled before her;Uttered, anguished then, one wail, her maddest and saddest, —Catching with tear-wet lips poor sobs that shivering choked her: —"Thus is it far from my home, O traitor, and far from its altars —Thus on a desert strand, – dost leave me, treacherous Theseus?Thus is it thou dost flout our vow, dost flout the Immortals, —Carelessly homeward bearest, with baleful ballast of curses?Never, could never a plea forfend thy cruelly mindedCounsel? Never a pity entreat thy bosom for shelter?..Hence, let never a maid confide in the oath of a lover,Never presume man's vows hold aught trustworthy within them!Verily, while in anguish of heart his spirit is longing,Nothing he spares to assever, nor aught makes scruple to promise:But, an his dearest desire, his nearest of heart be accorded —Nothing he recks of affiance, and reckons perjury, – nothing."Oh! what lioness whelped thee? Oh! what desolate cavern?What was the sea that spawned, that spat from its churning abysses,Thee, – what wolfish Scylla, or Syrtis, or vasty Charybdis,Thee, – thus thankful for life, dear gift of living, I gave thee?..Had it not liked thee still to acknowledge vows that we plighted,Mightest thou homeward, yet, have borne me a damsel beholden,Fain to obey thy will, and to lave thy feet like a servant,Fain to bedeck thy couch with purple coverlet for thee."But to the hollow winds why stand repeating my quarrel, —I, for sorrow unselfed, – they, but breezes insensate, —Potent neither voices to hear nor words to re-echo?..Yea, but where shall I turn? Forlorn, what succor rely on?'Haste to the Gnossian hills?' Ah, see how distantly surgingDeeps forbid, distending their gulfs abhorrent before me!'Comfort my heart, mayhap, with the loyal love of my husband?'Lo, the reluctant oar, e'en now, he plies to forsake me! —Nought but the homeless strand of an isle remote of the ocean!No, no way of escape, where the circling sea without shore is, —No, no counsel of flight, no hope, no sound of a mortal;All things desolate, dumb, yea, all things summoning deathward!Yet mine eyes shall not fade in death that sealeth the eyelids,Nor from the frame outworn shall fare my lingering senses,Ere, undone, from powers divine I claim retribution —Ere I call – in the hour supreme, on the faith of Immortals!"Come, then, Righters of Wrong, O vengeful dealers of justice,Braided with coil of the serpents, O Eumenides, ye ofBrows that blazon ire exhaling aye from the bosom,Haste, oh, haste ye, hither and hear me, vehement plaining,Destitute, fired with rage, stark-blind, demented for fury! —As with careless heart yon Theseus sailed and forgot me,So with folly of heart, may he slay himself and his household!"… Then with a nod supreme Olympian Jupiter nodded:Quaked thereat old Earth, – quaked, shuddered the terrified waters,Ay, and the constellations in Heaven that glitter were jangled.Straightway like some cloud on the inward vision of TheseusDropped oblivion down, enshrouding vows he had cherished,Hiding away all trace of the solemn behest of his father.

Fig. 143. Head of Dionysus

For, as was said before, Ægeus, on the departure of his son for Creta, had given him this command: "If Minerva, goddess of our city, grant thee victory over the Minotaur, hoist on thy return, when first the dear hills of Attica greet thy vision, white canvas to herald thy joy and mine, that mine eyes may see the propitious sign and know the glad day that restores thee safe to me."

… Even as clouds compelled by urgent push of the breezesFloat from the brow uplift of a snow-envelopèd mountain,So from Theseus passed all prayer and behest of his father.Waited the sire meanwhile, looked out from his tower over ocean,Wasted his anxious eyes in futile labor of weeping,Waited expectant, – saw to the southward sails black-bellied —Hurled him headlong down from the horrid steep to destruction, —Weening hateful Fate had severed the fortune of Theseus.Theseus, then, as he paced that gloom of the home of his father,Insolent Theseus knew himself what manner of evilHe with a careless heart had aforetime dealt Ariadne, —Fixed Ariadne that still, still stared where the ship had receded, —Wounded, revolving in heart her countless muster of sorrows.

Fig. 144. The Revels of Bacchus and Ariadne