Part 26 (2/2)
This story may possibly be based upon some current tradition of Latona having been subjected to such cruel treatment from some country clowns; or, which is more probable, it may have been originally invented as a satire on the rude manners and uncouth conduct of the peasantry of ancient times. The story may also have been framed, to account, in a poetical manner, for the origin of frogs.
FABLE IV. [VI.382-411]
The Satyr Marsyas, having challenged Apollo to a trial of skill on the flute, the G.o.d overcomes him, and then flays him alive for his presumption. The tears that are shed on the occasion of his death produce the river that bears his name.
When thus one, who, it is uncertain, had related the destruction of {these} men of the Lycian race, another remembers {that of} the Satyr;[48] whom, overcome {in playing} on the Tritonian reed, the son of Latona visited with punishment. ”Why,” said he, ”art thou tearing me from myself? Alas! I {now} repent; alas,” cried he, ”the flute is not of so much value!” As he shrieked aloud, his skin was stript[49] off from the surface of his limbs, nor was he aught but {one entire} wound. Blood is flowing on every side; the nerves, exposed, appear, and the quivering veins throb without any skin. You might have numbered his palpitating bowels, and the transparent lungs within his breast. The inhabitants of the country, the Fauns, Deities of the woods, and his brothers the Satyrs, and Olympus,[50] even then renowned, and the Nymphs lamented him; and whoever {besides} on those mountains was feeding the wool-bearing flocks, and the horned herds.
The fruitful earth was moistened, and being moistened received the falling tears, and drank them up in her lowest veins, which, when she had turned into a stream, she sent forth into the vacant air. And then, as the clearest river in Phrygia, running towards the rapid sea within steep banks, it bears the name of Marsyas.
From narratives such as these the people return at once to the present events, and mourn Amphion extinct together with {all} his race. The mother is {an object} of hatred. Yet {her brother} Pelops is said alone to have mourned for her as well; and after he had drawn his clothes from his shoulder towards his breast, he discovered the ivory on his left shoulder. This shoulder, at the time of his birth, was of the same color with the right one, and {was} formed of flesh. They say that the G.o.ds afterwards joined his limbs cut asunder by the hands of his father; and the rest of them being found, that part which is midway between the throat and the top of the arm, was wanting. Ivory was inserted there, in the place of the part that did not appear; and so by that means Pelops was made entire.
[Footnote 48: _The Satyr._--Ver. 382. Herodotus tells this story of the Satyr Marsyas, under the name of Silenus. Fulgentius informs us, that in paintings, Marsyas was represented with the tail of a pig.]
[Footnote 49: _His skin was stript._--Ver. 387. Apollo fastened him to a pine-tree, or, according to Pliny the Elder, a plane-tree, which was to be seen even in his day. The skin was afterwards suspended by Apollo in the city of Celenae. Hyginus says, that Apollo hewed Marsyas to pieces. The description here of the flaying is, perhaps, very natural; but it is all the more disgusting for being so. A commentator justly says, that it might suit a Roman, whose eyes were familiar with bloodshed, much better than the taste of the reader of modern times.]
[Footnote 50: _Olympus._--Ver. 393. He was a Satyr, the brother and pupil of Marsyas. Pausanias describes a picture, painted by Polygnotus, in which Olympus was represented as sitting by Marsyas, clad as a youth, and learning to play on the flute.
Euripides, in the Iphigenia in Aulis (l. 576) says that Olympus discovered some new measures for the 'tibia,' or flute. From Hyginus we learn, that Apollo delivered to him the body of Marsyas for burial.]
EXPLANATION.
Marsyas was the son of Hyagnis, the inventor of a peculiar kind of flute, and of the Phrygian measure. Livy and Quintus Curtius tell us, that the story of Apollo and Marsyas is an allegory; and that the river Marsyas gave rise to it. They say that the river, falling from a precipice, in the neighborhood of the town of Celenae, in Phrygia, made a very stunning and unpleasant noise; but that the smoothness of its course afterwards gave occasion for the saying, that the vengeance of Apollo had rendered it more tractable.
It is, however, not improbable that the story may have been based on historical facts. Having learned from his father, Hyagnis, the art of playing on the flute, and, proud of his skill, at a time when the musical art was yet in its infancy, Marsyas may have been rash enough to challenge either a priest of Apollo, or some prince who bore that name, and, for his presumption, to have received the punishment described by Ovid. Herodotus certainly credited the story; for he says that the skin of the unfortunate musician was to be seen, in his time, in the town of Celenae. Strabo, Pausanias, and Aulus Gellius also believe its truth. Suidas tells us, that Marsyas, mortified at his defeat, threw himself into the river that runs near Celenae, which, from that time, bore his name. Strabo says, that Marsyas had stolen the flute from Minerva, which proved so fatal to him, and had thereby drawn upon himself the indignation of that Divinity. Ovid, in the Sixth Book of the Fasti, and Pausanias, quoting from Apollodorus, tell us, that Minerva, having observed, by seeing herself in the river Meander, that, when she played on the flute, her cheeks were swelled out in an unseemly manner, threw aside the flute in her disgust, and Marsyas finding it, learned to play on it so skilfully, that he challenged Apollo to a trial of proficiency. Hyginus, in his 165th Fable, says that Marsyas was the son of agrius, and not Hyagnis; perhaps, however, this is a corrupt reading.
FABLE V. [VI.412-586]
Tereus, king of Thrace, having married Progne, the daughter of Pandion, king of Athens, falls in love with her sister Philomela, whom he ravishes, and then, having cut out her tongue, he shuts her up in a strong place in a forest, to prevent a discovery. The unfortunate Philomela finds means to acquaint her sister with her misfortunes; for, weaving her story on a piece of cloth, she sends it to Progne by the hands of one of her keepers.
The neighboring princes met together; and the cities that were near, entreated their kings to go to console {Pelops, namely}, Argos and Sparta, and the Pelopean Mycenae, and Calydon,[51] not yet odious to the stern Diana, and fierce Orchomeneus, and Corinth famous for its bra.s.s,[52] and fertile Messene, and Patrae, and humble Cleonae,[53] and the Neleian Pylos, and Trzen not yet named from Pittheus;[54] and other cities which are enclosed by the Isthmus between the two seas, and those which, situated beyond, are seen from the Isthmus between the two seas.
Who could have believed it? You, Athens, alone omitted it. A war prevented this act of humanity; and barbarous troops[55] brought {thither} by sea, were alarming the Mopsopian walls. The Thracian Tereus had routed these by his auxiliary forces, and by his conquest had acquired an ill.u.s.trious name. Him, powerful both in riches and men, and, as it happened, deriving his descent from the mighty Gradivus, Pandion united to himself, by the marriage of {his daughter} Progne.
Neither Juno, the guardian of marriage rites, nor yet Hymeneus, nor the Graces,[56] attended those nuptials. {On that occasion}, the Furies brandished torches, s.n.a.t.c.hed from the funeral pile. The Furies prepared the nuptial couch, and the ill-boding owl hovered over the abode, and sat on the roof of the bridal chamber. With these omens were Progne and Tereus wedded; with these omens were they made parents. Thrace, indeed, congratulated them, and they themselves returned thanks to the G.o.ds, and they commanded the day, upon which the daughter of Pandion was given to the renowned prince, and that upon which Itys was born, to be considered as festivals. So much does our true interest lie concealed {from us}.
Now t.i.tan had drawn the seasons of the repeated year through five autumns, when Progne, in gentle accents, said to her husband, ”If I have any influence {with thee}, either send me to see my sister, or let my sister come hither. Thou shalt promise thy father-in-law that she shall return in a short time. As good as a mighty G.o.d {wilt thou be} to me, if thou shalt allow me to see my sister.”
He {thereupon} ordered s.h.i.+ps to be launched;[57] and with sails and oars he entered the Cecropian harbor, and landed upon the sh.o.r.es of the Piraeus.[58] As soon as ever an opportunity was given of {addressing} his father-in-law, and right hand was joined to right hand, with evil omen their discourse began. He had commenced to relate the occasion of his coming, {and} the request of his wife, and to promise a speedy return for {Philomela, if} sent. {When} lo! Philomela comes, richly adorned in costly apparel; richer {by far} in her charms; such as we hear {of} the Naiads and Dryads {as they} haunt the middle of the forests, if you were only to give them the like ornaments and dress. Tereus was inflamed upon seeing the virgin, no otherwise than if one were to put fire beneath the whitening ears of corn, or were to burn leaves and {dry} gra.s.s laid up in stacks. Her beauty, indeed, is worthy {of love}; but inbred l.u.s.t, as well, urges him on, and the people in those regions are {naturally} much inclined to l.u.s.tfulness. He burns, both by his own frailty and that of his nation. He has a desire to corrupt the care of her attendants, and the fidelity of her nurse, and {besides}, to tempt herself with large presents, and to spend his whole kingdom {in so doing}; or else, to seize her, and, when seized, to secure her by a cruel war. And there is nothing which, being seized by an unbridled pa.s.sion, he may not dare; nor does his breast contain the internal flame. And now he ill bears with delay; and with eager mouth returns to {urge} the request of Progne, and under it he pleads his own wishes; pa.s.sion makes him eloquent. As oft as he presses beyond what is becoming, he pretends that Progne has thus desired. He adds tears as well, as though she had enjoined them too. O ye G.o.ds above, how much of dark night do the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of mortals contain! Through his very attempt at villany, Tereus is thought to be affectionate, and from his crime does he gather praise.
And how is it, too, that Philomela desires the same thing? and fondly embracing the shoulders of her father with her arms, she begs, even by her own safety (and against it too), that she may visit her sister.
Tereus views her, and, while viewing her, is embracing her beforehand in imagination; and, as he beholds her kisses, and her arms around {her father's} neck, he receives them all as incentives, and fuel, and the food of his furious pa.s.sion; and, as often as she embraces her father, he could wish to be {that} father, and, even then, he would have been not the less impious. The father is overcome by the entreaties of them both. She rejoices, and returns thanks to her parent, and, to her misfortune, deems that the success of both, which will be the cause of sorrow to them both. Now but little of his toil was remaining for Phbus, and his steeds were beating with their feet the descending track of Olympus; a regal banquet was set on the tables, and wine in golden {vessels}; after this, their bodies were given up to gentle sleep. But the Odrysian king,[59] though he was withdrawn, still burned for her; and, recalling her form, her movements, her hands, fancies that which he has not yet seen, to be such as he wishes; and he himself feeds his own flames, his anxiety preventing sleep.
It was {now} day; and Pandion, grasping the right hand of his son-in-law, about to depart, with tears bursting forth, recommended his companion {to his care}. ”I commit her, my dear son-in-law, to thee, because reasons, grounded on affection, have compelled me, and both {my daughters} have desired it, and thou as well, Tereus, hast wished it; and I entreat thee, begging by thy honor, by thy breast {thus} allied to us, {and} by the G.o.ds above, to protect her with the love of a father; and do send back to me, as soon as possible, this sweet comfort of my anxious old age, {for} all delay will be tedious to me, and do thou, too, Philomela, if thou hast any affection for me, return as soon as possible: 'tis enough that thy sister is so far away.” {Thus} did he enjoin, and at the same time he gave kisses to his daughter, and his affectionate tears fell amid his instructions. He {then} demanded the right hands of them both, as a pledge of their fidelity, and joined them together when given, and bade them, with mindful lips, to salute for him his absent daughter and grandson, and with difficulty[60] uttered the last farewell, his mouth being filled with sobs; and he shuddered at the presages of his own mind. But as soon as Philomela was put on board of the painted s.h.i.+p, and the sea was urged by the oars, and the land was left behind, he exclaimed, ”I have gained my point; the object of my desires is borne along with me.” The barbarian exults, too, and with difficulty defers his joy in his intention, and turns not his eyes anywhere away from her. No otherwise than when the ravenous bird of Jupiter, with crooked talons, has placed a hare in his lofty nest; there is no escape for the captive; the plunderer keeps his eye on his prey.
And now the voyage is ended, and now they have gone forth from the wearied s.h.i.+p, upon his own sh.o.r.e; when the king drags the daughter of Pandion into a lofty dwelling, concealed in an ancient wood, and there he shuts her up, pale and trembling, and dreading everything, and now with tears inquiring where her sister is; and confessing his baseness, he masters by force her a maiden, and but one, while she often vainly calls on her father, often on her sister, and on the great G.o.ds above all. She trembles like a frightened lamb, which, wounded, being s.n.a.t.c.hed from the mouth of a h.o.a.ry wolf, does not as yet seem to itself in safety; and as a dove, its feathers soaked with its own blood, still trembles, and dreads the ravening talons wherein it has been {lately} held. {But} soon, when consciousness returned, tearing her dishevelled hair like one mourning, and beating her arms in lamentation, stretching out her hands, she said, ”Oh, barbarous {wretch}, for thy dreadful deeds; oh, cruel {monster}! have neither the requests of my father, with his affectionate tears, moved thee, nor a regard for my sister, nor my virgin state, nor the laws of marriage? Thou hast confounded all. I am become the supplanter of my sister; thou, the husband of both of us.
This punishment was not my due. Why dost thou not take away this life, that no villany, perfidious {wretch}, may remain {unperpetrated} by thee? and would that thou hadst done it before thy criminal embraces!
{then} I might have had a shade void of {all} crime. Yet, if the G.o.ds above behold these things, if the majesty of the G.o.ds be anything; if, with myself, all things are not come to ruin; one time or other thou shalt give me satisfaction. I myself, having cast shame aside, will declare thy deeds. If opportunity is granted me, I will come among the people; if I shall be kept imprisoned in the woods, I will fill the woods, and will move the conscious rocks. Let Heaven hear these things, and the G.o.ds, if there are any in it.”
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