Ancient Mythology and Ideas in Historical Eras : Primordial Essence

Ancient Mythology and Ideas in Historical Eras

Cybele and Attis:
Cybele the Phrygian Fertility Goddess, Great Mother, Dindymene, Agdistis, Kubaba
By N.S. Gill, About.com Guide

Cybele From Oskar Seyffert:

Cybele, an ancient fertility goddess whose worship is thought to have spread from Anatolia to Greece in the Archaic period (c. 800-500) and further during the Hellenistic period (c. 300-50), is known by many names, including
Great Mother
Dindymene
Kubaba
A(n)gdistis, and
Mater Deum Magna Idaea (Great Idaean Mother of the Gods).
In Greece the worship of Cybele was associated with that of Rhea, the mother of Zeus and wife of Cronus.
Besides fertility, represented by fruit in art, Cybele is associated with cities, and so, on her crown there is a gate. In the picture of Cybele, from Oskar Seyffert’s Diciontary of Classical Antiquities, copied here, lions flank Cybele to suggest her strength. Sometimes leopards accompany Cybele.

Mysterious rites were performed in the name of Cybele — as they were for the other earth mother type goddesses, like Demeter and Isis. Worship of the Great Mother involved substantial sacrifice in order to commemorate the great myth of death and rebirth. No ordinary man could be her priest.

“Well then, the Pergameni took Ancyra and Pessinus which lies under Mount Agdistis, where they say that Attis lies buried.”
- Pausanias 1.4.5

1. Aphrodite – Greek Goddess of Love

Alun Salt at Flickr.com
‘Aphrodite is the Greek goddess of beauty, love, and sexuality. She is sometimes known as the Cyprian because there was a cult center of Aphrodite on Cyprus. Aphrodite is the mother of the god of love, Eros. She is the wife of the ugliest of the gods, Hephaestus.’
Unlike the powerful virginal goddesses, Athena and Artemis, or the faithful goddess of marriage, Hera, she has love affairs with gods and mortals. Aphrodite’s birth story makes her relation to the other gods and goddesses of Mt. Olympus ambiguous.

Artemis:

Virginal Artemis, sister of Apollo, daughter of Leto and Zeus, was born either on Delos or Ortygia. In some stories she is the twin sister of Apollo, but in others she was born several days earlier so she could help her mother with the delivery of her brother. Henceforth, although a virgin, she is one of the goddesses associated with childbirth. Artemis is also an avid hunter with a set of arrows to match her brother’s. She also takes her chastity seriously, dealing mercilessly with anyone who threatens to compromise even the modesty of her attendants.

Family of Origin:

Hesiod says Aphrodite arose from the foam that gathered around the genitals of Uranus. They just happened to be floating in the sea — after his son Cronus castrated his father.
The poet known as Homer calls Aphrodite the daughter of Zeus and Dione. She is also described as the daughter of Oceanus and Tethys (both Titans).

If Aphrodite is the cast-offspring of Uranus, she is of the same generation as Zeus’ parents. If she is the daughter of the Titans, she is Zeus’ cousin.

Roman Equivalent:

Aphrodite was called Venus by the Romans — as in the famous Venus de Milo statue.
Attributes And Associations:

Mirror, of course — she is the goddess of beauty. Also, the apple, which has lots of associations with love or beauty (as in Sleeping Beauty) and especially the golden apple. Aphrodite is associated with a magic girdle (belt), the dove, myrrh and myrtle, the dolphin, and more. In the famous Botticelli painting, Aphrodite is seen rising from a clam shell.
Sources:

Ancient sources for Aphrodite include: Apollodorus, Apuleius, Aristophanes, Cicero, Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Diodorus Siculus, Euripides, Hesiod, Homer, Hyginus, Nonnius, Ovid, Pausanias, Pindar, Plato, Quintus Smyrnaeus, Sophocles, Statius, Strabo and Vergil (Virgil).
Trojan War and Aeneid’s Aphrodite / Venus:

The story of the Trojan War begins with the story of the apple of discord, which naturally was made of gold:
Each of 3 goddesses:

Hera – marriage goddess and wife of Zeus
Athena – Zeus’ daughter, wisdom goddess, and one of the powerful virginal goddesses mentioned above, and
Aphrodite
thought she deserved the golden apple, by virtue of being kallista ‘the most beautiful’. Since the goddesses couldn’t decide among themselves and Zeus wasn’t willing to suffer the wrath of the females in his family, the goddesses appealed to Paris, son of King Priam of Troy. They asked him to judge which of them was the most beautiful. Paris judged the goddess of beauty to be the loveliest. In return for his verdict, Aphrodite promised Paris the fairest woman. Unfortunately, this fairest mortal was Helen of Sparta, wife of Menelaus. Paris took the prize that had been awarded him by Aphrodite, despite her prior commitments, and so started the most famous war in history, that between the Greeks and Trojans.
Vergil or Virgil’s Aeneid tells a Trojan War sequel story about a surviving Trojan prince, Aeneas, transporting his household gods from the burning city of Troy to Italy, where he founds the race of the Romans. In the Aeneid, the Roman version of Aphrodite, Venus, is Aeneas’ mother. In the Iliad, she protected her son, even at the cost of suffering a wound inflicted by Diomedes.

Artemis and the Trojan War:

Unlike most of the Olympians, Artemis does not seem to have a vested interest in one side or the other in the Trojan War conflict, but she supports her brother and his choices, which puts her in the Trojan line-up, receiving grief for it from Hera. Her actual role in the Trojan War is minimal — she helps heal Aeneas when Diomedes wounds him. While not actually involved in the conflict, her tangential role is pivotal. It is because Agamemnon either failed to sacrifice to her or because he boasted that his hunting skills surpassed the goddess’ that he is told to sacrifice his daughter Iphigenia, at Aulis. Without that sacrifice the Greeks would never be able to set sail, land at Troy, and fight for ten years. In the Kypria (one of a series of epics on the Trojan War) and Ehoiai (a catalogue of heroines ascribed to Hesiod) Agamemnon’s sacrifice is stopped at the last minute and a stag substituted. However, such clemency is unusual. Artemis is looked upon not only as a goddess of childbirth, and viginity, but of death.
Artemis As Goddess of Swift Death

Usually Artemis prefers a swift, direct means of death, which she accomplishes with her arrows.
But when the townsmen reach old age, Apollo
with his longbow of silver comes, and Artemis,
showering arrows of mild death.
Odyssey 15.408-411 Fitzgerald translation
In the Nekuia, Odysseus asks his dead mother, Antikleia, if Artemis killed her (Odyssey 11.171-73). Artemis killed Andromache’s mother, as we learn when Andromache tries to persuade her husband Hector not to go off to fight in the Trojan War. She complains she will be all alone in the world.

My mother — her who had been queen of all the land under Mt. Placus — he brought hither with the spoil, and freed her for a great sum, but the archer-queen Diana [Artemis] took her in the house of your father. Nay — Hector — you who to me are father, mother, brother, and dear husband….
Iliad 6.426-429 Butler translation
Penelope, despondent about the suitors’ invasion of her home, asks Artemis to bring on death:

If only Artemis the Pure would give me
death as mild, and soon!
Odyssey 18.202-203 Fitzgerald translation
“O gracious
divine lady Artemis, daughter of Zeus,
if you could only make an end now quickly,
let the arrow fly, stop my heart….”
Odyssey 20.60-63 Fitzgerald translation.

Artemis Kills for Revenge:

Although we may not always be privy to her motives, Artemis also kills when she thinks it is deserved. Eumaios, Odysseus’ swineherd, tells how when he was little, Phoenician traders persuaded his family’s Phoenician servant to return to Sidon with them. On her way, she grabbed the young Eumaios and took him on board the ship where Artemis shot her down. When the traders arrived in port, they sold Eumaios as a slave to Odysseus’ father Laertes. (Odyssey 15.478).
In another case, the goddess is angry with Laodameia, daughter of Bellerophon, for unspecified reasons and so the woman must die:

but when Bellerophon came to be hated by all the gods, he wandered all desolate and dismayed upon the Alean plain, gnawing at his own heart, and shunning the path of man. Mars, insatiate of battle, killed his son Isander while he was fighting the Solymi; his daughter was killed by Diana [Artemis] of the golden reins, for she was angered with her.
Iliad 6.203-206 Butler translation
Artemis kills Orion for consorting with the Dawn

“Oh you vile gods, in jealousy supernal!
You hate it when we choose to lie with men -
immortal flesh by some mortal side.
So radiant Dawn once took to bed Orion
until you easeful gods grew peevish at it,
and holy Artemis, Artemis throned in gold,
hunted him down in Delos with her arrows….”
Odyssey 5.118-24 Fitzgerald translation
In Iliad 9, Artemis sends the Kalydonian Boar to do her dirty work after Oineus forgets to give her his first fruits.
For Diana of the golden throne was angry and did them hurt because Oeneus had not offered her his harvest first-fruits. The other gods had all been feasted with hecatombs, but to the daughter of great Jove alone he had made no sacrifice. He had forgotten her, or somehow or other it had escaped him, and this was a grievous sin. Thereon the archer goddess in her displeasure sent a prodigious creature against him — a savage wild boar with great white tusks that did much harm to his orchard lands, uprooting apple-trees in full bloom and throwing them to the ground.
Iliad 9.533-40 Butler translation
Artemis Kills for Other Gods or to Preserve her Modesty

Artemis also kills for other gods. She kills Ariadne on Dionysus’ say-so alone:
… and Ariadne,
daughter of Minos, the grim king. Theseus took her
aboard with him from Krete for the terraced land
of ancient Athens; but he had no joy of her. Artemis killed her on the Isle of Dia
at a word from Dionysos.
Odyssey 11.320-25 Fitzgerald translation
She kills Asklepios’ mother Koronis at Apollo’s request, according to Pindar (Pythian 3).

In an early version of the story of Artemis’ killing Aktaion, the goddess acts not for herself, but for Zeus, who fears Aktaion is a rival for Semele’s affection. In a later version, told by Kallimachos and by Ovid in his Metamorphoses, Aktaion is out in the woods hunting deer when he inadvertently runs across Artemis washing. Outraged, she turns him into a deer. Then his companions and his own hounds, without being able to recognize him, hunt Aktaion down and tear him to pieces.

There’s a lesson to be learned: If you’re going to thwart the virgin huntress goddess, make sure she’s fully dressed and armed. Then the odds are good, since she’s a perfect marksman, that your death will be as swift as her arrows.

Athena:

Who Is Athena?:

Athena is the name of an important goddess for the Greeks. She is the patron goddess of Athens, the goddess of wisdom, a goddess of arts and crafts (agriculture, navigation, spinning, weaving, and needlework), the favorite daughter of her father Zeus, and, as a war goddess with a focus on strategy more than bloodshed, an active participant in the Trojan War. She gave Athens the gift of the olive tree, providing oil, food, and wood.
Bulfinch Myths About Athena

Athena and Arachne
Weaving Contest

Judgment of Paris

Greek Mythology

Occupation of Athena:

Goddess
Gods and Goddesses Index
Athena’s Family and the Birth of Athena:

The Greek goddess Athena is said to be the offspring of Zeus alone, but that was only after the Oceanid Metis became pregnant and Zeus swallowed her. By swallowing the Oceanid and her unborn child, Zeus became pregnant with Athena. Zeus wasn’t built to deliver a baby, so he seems to have gestated the baby in his head. The solution to the lack of an opening in Zeus that would serve for the birth canal: Hephaestus (or Prometheus) struck open Zeus’ head with an axe to release the goddess Athena. Athena emerged from her father’s head fully armed. See Homeric Hymn XXVIII. To Athena for the birth of Athena.
Alternate Version

Guthrie says in some versions, Pallas Athena precedes Zeus. She is the wisdom the creator used to form the cosmos.

“Epithets in the Orphic Hymns”
W. K. C. Guthrie

The Classical Review, Vol. 44, No. 6 (Dec., 1930), pp. 216-221.

Roman Equivalent of Athena:

The Greek goddess Athena was known as the goddess Minerva by the Romans.
Attributes of Athena:

Aegis, spear, pomegranate, owl, distaff, helmet. Athena is described as grey-eyed (glaukos).
Symbols of Athena
Powers of Athena:

Athena is the goddess of wisdom and crafts. She is the patron of Athens.
Sources on Athena:

Ancient sources for Athena include: Aeschylus, Apollodorus, Callimachus, Diodorus Siculus, Euripides, Hesiod, Homer, Nonnius, Pausanias, Sophocles and Strabo.
See Hymns to Athena.

Son of the Virgin Goddess Athena:

Athena is a virgin goddess, but she has a son. Athena is credited with being part-mother of Erichthonius through an attempted rape by Hephaestus, whose seed spilled on her leg. When Athena wiped it off, it fell to earth (Gaia) who became the other part-mother. The offspring of Gaia, Athena, and Hephaestus is Erichthonius. Thus, Erichthonius, a half-snake half-man creature, has two mothers and one father. He is a mythological ancestor of the Athenians.
Return of Hephaestus
Parthenon:

Athena was the patron goddess of Athens, a city named for the goddess. The people of Athens built a great temple for Athena on the acropolis (or high point) of their city. The temple is known as the Parthenon. In it was a colossal gold and ivory statue of the goddess Athena Parthenos, Athena the Maiden. During the annual Panathenaia festival, a procession was made to the statue for the purpose of providing the statue of the goddess with new clothes.
Portrait of a Priestess
Parthenon

More on Athena:

The Greek goddess Athena was involved in most of the heroic tales. Name a Greek myth, and she’s probably there — somewhere. In the story of Jason’s rescue of the Golden Fleece, Athena is shown witnessing Jason being disgorged by the monstrous guardian of the fleece. She helped Perseus obtain the head of Medusa and Hercules in his task. She sided with the Greeks in the Trojan War, various heroes, and especially with Odysseus, appearing in disguise to his son Telemachus. In the Odyssey the disguised Athena spurred the young Telemachus to action when the suitors of Penelope were eating Odysseus’ kingdom of Ithaca out of house and home.

Since Athena was born without a mother — sprung from her father’s head — in an important murder trial, she decided that the role of the mother was less essential in creation than the role of the father. Specifically, she sided with the matricide Orestes, who had kiled his mother Clytemnestra after she had killed her husband and his father Agamemnon.

In the tale of the Judgment of Paris (son of the Trojan King Priam), Athena was one of the two goddesses who lost the beauty contest to Aphrodite. This is part of the reason Athena sided with the Greeks in the Trojan War.

Athena also defeated Poseidon in the vote over who would be the patron god of Athens because her gift was more valuable — the olive tree.

Demeter:

Demeter is a goddess of fertility, grain, and agriculture. She is pictured as a mature motherly figure. Although she is the goddess who taught mankind about agriculture, she is also the goddess responsible for creating winter and a mystery religious cult. Demeter is usually accompanied by her daughter Persephone.
Occupation:

Goddess
Family of Origin:

Demeter was a daughter of the Titans Cronus and Rhea. Demeter was a sister of the goddesses Hestia and Hera, and the gods Poseidon, Hades, and Zeus.
Demeter in Roman Mythology:

The Romans referred to Demeter as Ceres.
Attributes:

The attributes of Demeter are a sheaf of grain, a conical headdress, a scepter, a torch, and a sacrificial bowl.
Persephone and Demeter:

The story of Demeter is usually combined with the story of the abduction of her daughter Persephone. Read this story in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter.
Myths Involving Demeter:

Myths about Demeter (Ceres) re-told by Thomas Bulfinch include:

Proserpine
The Rural Deities
Cupid and Psyche.

Proserpine – Glaucus and Scylla Chapter VII

From Thomas Bulfinch (1796–1867). Age of Fable: Vols. I & II: Stories of Gods and Heroes. 1913.

WHEN Jupiter and his brothers had defeated the Titars and banished them to Tartarus, a new enemy rose up against the gods. They were the giants Typhon, Briareus, Enceladus, and others. Some of them had a hundred arms, others breathed out fire. They were finally subdued and buried alive under Mount AEtna, where they still sometimes struggle to get loose, and shake the whole island with earthquakes. Their breath comes up through the mountain, and is what men call the eruption of the volcano.

The fall of these monsters shook the earth, so that Pluto was alarmed, and feared that his kingdom would be laid open to the light of day. Under this apprehension, he mounted his chariot, drawn by black horses, and took a circuit of inspection to satisfy himself of the extent of the damage. While he was thus engaged, Venus, who was sitting on Mount Eryx playing with her boy Cupid, espied him, and said, “My son, take your darts with which you conquer all, even Jove himself, and send one into the breast of yonder dark monarch, who rules the realm of Tartarus. Why should he alone escape? Seize the opportunity to extend your empire and mine. Do you not see that even in heaven some despise our power? Minerva the wise, and Diana the huntress, defy us; and there is that daughter of Ceres, who threatens to follow their example. Now do you, if you have any regard for your own interest or mine, join these two in one.” The boy unbound his quiver, and selected his sharpest and truest arrow; then straining the bow against his knee, he attached the string, and, having made ready, shot the arrow with its barbed point right into the heart of Pluto.

In the vale of Enna there is a lake embowered in woods, which screen it from the fervid rays of the sun, while the moist ground is covered with flowers, and Spring reigns perpetual. Here Proserpine was playing with her companions, gathering lilies and violets, and filling her basket and her apron with them, when Pluto saw her, loved her, and carried her off. She screamed for help to her mother and companions; and when in her fright she dropped the corners of her apron and let the flowers fall, childlike she felt the loss of them as an addition to her grief. The ravisher urged on his steeds, calling them each by name, and throwing loose over their heads and necks his iron-coloured reins. When he reached the River Cyane, and it opposed his passage, he struck the river-bank with his trident, and the earth opened and gave him a passage to Tartarus.

Ceres sought her daughter all the world over. Bright-haired Aurora, when she came forth in the morning, and Hesperus when he led out the stars in the evening, found her still busy in the search. But it was all unavailing. At length, weary and sad, she sat down upon a stone, and continued sitting nine days and nights, in the open air, under the sunlight and moonlight and falling showers. It was where now stands the city of Eleusis, then the home of an old man named Celeus. He was out on the field, gathering acorns and blackberries, and sticks for his fire. His little girl was driving home their two goats, and as she passed the goddess, who appeared in the guise of an old woman, she said to her, “Mother,”- and the name was sweet to the ears of Ceres,- “why do you sit here alone upon the rocks?” The old man also stopped, though his load was heavy, and begged her to come into his cottage, such as it was. She declined, and he urged her. “Go in peace,” she replied, “and be happy in your daughter; I have lost mine.” As she spoke, tears- or something like tears, for the gods never weep- fell down her cheeks upon her bosom. The compassionate old man and his child wept with her. Then said he, “Come with us, and despise not our humble roof; so may your daughter be restored to you in safety.” “Lead on,” said she, “I cannot resist that appeal!” So she rose from the stone and went with them. As they walked he told her that his only son, a little boy, lay very sick, feverish, and sleepless. She stooped and gathered some poppies. As they entered the cottage, they found all in great distress, for the boy seemed past hope of recovery. Metanira, his mother, received her kindly, and the goddess stooped and kissed the lips of the sick child. Instantly the paleness left his face, and healthy vigour returned to his body. The whole family were delighted- that is, the father, mother, and little girl, for they were all; they had no servants. They spread the table, and put upon it curds and cream, apples, and honey in the comb. While they ate, Ceres mingled poppy juice in the milk of the boy. When night came and all was still, she arose, and taking the sleeping boy, moulded his limbs with her hands, and uttered over him three times a solemn charm, then went and laid him in the ashes. His mother, who had been watching what her guest was doing, sprang forward with a cry and snatched the child from the fire. Then Ceres assumed her own form, and a divine splendour shone all around. While they were overcome with astonishment, she said, “Mother, you have been cruel in your fondness to your son. I would have made him immortal, but you have frustrated my attempt. Nevertheless, he shall be great and useful. He shall teach men the use of the plough, and the rewards which labour can win from the cultivated soil.” So saying, she wrapped a cloud about her, and mounting her chariot rode away.

Ceres continued her search for her daughter, passing from land to land, and across seas and rivers, till at length she returned to Sicily, whence she at first set out, and stood by the banks of the River Cyane, where Pluto made himself a passage with his prize to his own dominions. The river nymph would have told the goddess all she had witnessed, but dared not, for fear of Pluto; so she only ventured to take up the girdle which Proserpine had dropped in her flight, and waft it to the feet of the mother. Ceres, seeing this, was no longer in doubt of her loss, but she did not yet know the cause, and laid the blame on the innocent land. “Ungrateful soil,” said she, “which I have endowed with fertility and clothed with herbage and nourishing grain, no more shall you enjoy my favours.” Then the cattle died, the plough broke in the furrow, the seed failed to come up; there was too much sun, there was too much rain; the birds stole the seeds- thistles and brambles were the only growth. Seeing this, the fountain Arethusa interceded for the land. “Goddess,” said she, “blame not the land; it opened unwillingly to yield a passage to your daughter. I can tell you of her fate, for I have seen her. This is not my native country; I came hither from Elis. I was a woodland nymph, and delighted in the chase. They praised my beauty, but I cared nothing for it, and rather boasted of my hunting exploits. One day I was returning from the wood, heated with exercise, when I came to a stream silently flowing, so clear that you might count the pebbles on the bottom. The willows shaded it, and the grassy bank sloped down to the water’s edge. I approached, I touched the water with my foot. I stepped in knee-deep, and not content with that, I laid my garments on the willows and went in. While I sported in the water, I heard an indistinct murmur coming up as out of the depths of the stream; and made haste to escape to the nearest bank. The voice said, ‘Why do you fly, Arethusa? I am Alpheus, the god of this stream.’ I ran, he pursued; he was not more swift than I, but he was stronger, and gained upon me, as my strength failed. At last, exhausted, I cried for help to Diana. ‘Help me, goddess! help your votary!’ The goddess heard, and wrapped me suddenly in a thick cloud. The river god looked now this way and now that, and twice came close to me, but could not find me. ‘Arethusa! Arethusa!’ he cried. Oh, how I trembled,- like a lamb that hears the wolf growling outside the fold. A cold sweat came over me, my hair flowed down in streams; where my foot stood there was a pool. In short, in less time than it takes to tell it, I became a fountain. But in this form Alpheus knew me and attempted to mingle his stream with mine. Diana cleft the ground, and I, endeavouring to escape him, plunged into the cavern, and through the bowels of the earth came out here in Sicily. While I passed through the lower parts of the earth, I saw your Proserpine. She was sad, but no longer showing alarm in her countenance. Her look was such as became a queen- the queen of Erebus; the powerful bride of the monarch of the realms of the dead.”

When Ceres heard this, she stood for a while like one stupefied; then turned her chariot towards heaven, and hastened to present herself before the throne of Jove. She told the story of her bereavement, and implored Jupiter to interfere to procure the restitution of her daughter. Jupiter consented on one condition, namely, that Proserpine should not during her stay in the lower world have taken any food; otherwise, the Fates forbade her release. Accordingly, Mercury was sent, accompanied by Spring, to demand Proserpine of Pluto. The wily monarch consented; but, alas! the maiden had taken a pomegranate which Pluto offered her, and had sucked the sweet pulp from a few of the seeds. This was enough to prevent her complete release; but a compromise was made, by which she was to pass half the time with her mother, and the rest with her husband Pluto.

Ceres allowed herself to be pacified with this arrangement, and restored the earth to her favour. Now she remembered Celeus and his family, and her promise to his infant son Triptolemus. When the boy grew up, she taught him the use of the plough, and how to sow the seed. She took him in her chariot, drawn by winged dragons, through all the countries of the earth, imparting to mankind valuable grains, and the knowledge of agriculture. After his return, Triptolemus built a magnificent temple to Ceres in Eleusis, and established the worship of the goddess, under the name of the Eleusinian mysteries, which, in the splendour and solemnity of their observance, surpassed all other religious celebrations among the Greeks.

There can be little doubt of this story of Ceres and Proserpine being an allegory. Proserpine signifies the seed-corn which when cast into the ground lies there concealed- that is, she is carried off by the god of the underworld. It reappears- that is, Proserpine is restored to her mother. Spring leads her back to the light of day.

Milton alludes to the story of Proserpine in “Paradise Lost,” Book IV.:
“…Not that fair field
Of Enna where Proserpine gathering flowers,
Herself a fairer flower, by gloomy Dis
Was gathered, which cost Ceres all that pain
To seek her through the world,-
…might with this Paradise
Of Eden strive.”

Hood, in his “Ode to Melancholy,” uses the same allusion very beautifully:
“Forgive, if somewhile I forget,
In woe to come the present bliss;
As frighted Proserpine let fall
Her flowers at the sight of Dis.”

The River Alpheus does in fact disappear underground, in part of its course, finding its way through subterranean channels till it again appears on the surface. It was said that the Sicilian fountain Arethusa was the same stream, which, after passing under the sea, came up again in Sicily. Hence the story ran that a cup thrown into the Alpheus appeared again in Arethusa. It is this fable of the underground course of Alpheus that Coleridge alludes to in his poem of “Kubla Khan”:
“In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree,
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man,
Down to a sunless sea.”

In one of Moore’s juvenile poems he thus alludes to the same story, and to the practice of throwing garlands or other light objects on his stream to be carried downward by it, and afterwards reproduced at its emerging:
“O my beloved, how divinely sweet
Is the pure joy when kindred spirits meet!
Like him the river god, whose waters flow,
With love their only light, through caves below,
Wafting in triumph all the flowery braids
And festal rings, with which Olympic maids
Have decked his current, as an offering meet
To lay at Arethusa’s shining feet.
Think, when he meets at last his fountain bride,
What perfect love must thrill the blended tide!
Each lost in each, till mingling into one,
Their lot the same for shadow or for sun,
A type of true love, to the deep they run.”

The following extract from Moore’s “Rhymes on the Road” gives an account of a celebrated picture by Albano, at Milan, called a Dance of Loves:
“‘Tis for the theft of Enna’s flower from earth
These urchins celebrate their dance of mirth,
Round the green tree, like fays upon a heath;-
Those that are nearest Linked in order bright,
Cheek after cheek, like rosebuds in a wreath;
And those more distant showing from beneath
The others’ wings their little eyes of light.
While see! among the clouds, their eldest brother,
But just flown up, tells with a smile of bliss,
This prank of Pluto to his charmed mother,
Who turns to greet the tidings with a kiss.”
GLAUCUS AND SCYLLA.

Glaucus was a fisherman. One day he had drawn his nets to land, and had taken a great many fishes of various kinds. So he emptied his net, and. proceeded to sort the fishes on the grass. The place where he stood was a beautiful island in the river, a solitary spot, uninhabited, and not used for pasturage of cattle, not ever visited by any but himself. On a sudden, the fishes, which had been laid on the grass, began to revive and move their fins as if they were in the water; and while he looked on astonished, they one and all moved off to the water, plunged in, and swam away. He did not know what to make of this, whether some god had done it or some secret power in the herbage. “What herb has such a power?” he exclaimed; and gathering some of it, he tasted it. Scarce had the juices of the plant reached his palate when he found himself agitated with a longing desire for the water. He could no longer restrain himself, but bidding farewell to earth, he plunged into the stream. The gods of the water received him graciously, and admitted him to the honour of their society. They obtained the consent of Oceanus and Tethys, the sovereigns of the sea, that all that was mortal in him should be washed away. A hundred rivers poured their waters over him. Then he lost all sense of his former nature and all consciousness. When he recovered, he found himself changed in form and mind. His hair was sea-green, and trailed behind him on the water; his shoulders grew broad, and what had been thighs and legs assumed the form of a fish’s tail. The sea-gods complimented him on the change of his appearance, and he fancied himself rather a good-looking personage.

One day Glaucus saw the beautiful maiden Scylla, the favourite of the water-nymphs, rambling on the shore, and when she had found a sheltered nook, laving her limbs in the clear water. He fell in love with her, and showing himself on the surface, spoke to her, saying such things as he thought most likely to win her to stay; for she turned to run immediately on the sight of him, and ran till she had gained a cliff overlooking the sea. Here she stopped and turned round to see whether it was a god or a sea animal, and observed with wonder his shape and colour. Glaucus partly emerging from the water, and supporting himself against a rock, said, “Maiden, I am no monster, nor a sea animal, but a god: and neither Proteus nor Triton ranks higher than I. Once I was a mortal, and followed the sea for a living; but now I belong wholly to it.” Then he told the story of his metamorphosis, and how he had been promoted to his present dignity, and added, “But what avails all this if it fails to move your heart?” He was going on in this strain, but Scylla turned and hastened away.

Glaucus was in despair, but it occurred to him to consult the enchantress Circe. Accordingly he repaired to her island- the same where afterwards Ulysses landed, as we shall see in one of our later stories. After mutual salutations, he said, “Goddess, I entreat your pity; you alone can relieve the pain I suffer. The power of herbs I know as well as any one, for it is to them I owe my change of form. I love Scylla. I am ashamed to tell you how I have sued and promised to her, and how scornfully she has treated me. I beseech you to use your incantations, or potent herbs, if they are more prevailing, not to cure me of my love,- for that I do not wish,- but to make her share it and yield me a like return.” To which Circe replied, for she was not insensible to the attractions of the sea-green deity, “You had better pursue a willing object; you are worthy to be sought, instead of having to seek in vain. Be not diffident, know your own worth. I protest to you that even I, goddess though I be, and learned in the virtues of plants and spells, should not know how to refuse you. If she scorns you scorn her; meet one who is ready to meet you half way, and thus make a due return to both at once.” To these words Glaucus replied, “Sooner shall trees grow at the bottom of the ocean, and sea-weed on the top of the mountains, than I will cease to love Scylla, and her alone.”

The goddess was indignant, but she could not punish him, neither did she wish to do so, for she liked him too well; so she turned all her wrath against her rival, poor Scylla. She took plants of poisonous powers and mixed them together, with incantations and charms. Then she passed through the crowd of gambolling beasts, the victims of her art, and proceeded to the coast of Sicily, where Scylla lived. There was a little bay on the shore to which Scylla used to resort, in the heat of the day, to breathe the air of the sea, and to bathe in its waters. Here the goddess poured her poisonous mixture, and muttered over it incantations of mighty power. Scylla came as usual and plunged into the water up to her waist. What was her horror to perceive a brood of serpents and barking monsters surrounding her! At first she could not imagine they were a part of herself, and tried to run from them, and to drive them away; but as she ran she carried them with her, and when she tried to touch her limbs, she found her hands touch only the yawning jaws of monsters. Scylla remained rooted to the spot. Her temper grew as ugly as her form, and she took pleasure in devouring hapless mariners who came within her grasp. Thus she destroyed six of the companions of Ulysses, and tried to wreck the ships of AEneas, till at last she was turned into a rock, and as such still continues to be a terror to mariners.

Keats, in his “Endymion,” has given a new version of the ending of “Glaucus and Scylla.” Glaucus consents to Circe’s blandishments, till he by chance is witness to her transactions with her beasts. Disgusted with her treachery and cruelty, he tries to escape from her, but is taken and brought back, when with reproaches she banishes him, sentencing him to pass a thousand years in decrepitude and pain. He returns to the sea, and there finds the body of Scylla, whom the goddess has not transformed but drowned. Glaucus learns that his destiny is that, if he passes his thousand years in collecting all the bodies of drowned lovers, a youth beloved of the gods will appear and help him. Endymion fulfils this prophecy, and aids in restoring Glaucus to youth, and Scylla and all the drowned lovers to life.

The following is Glaucus’s account of his feelings after his “sea-change”:
“I plunged for life or death. To interknit
One’s senses with so dense a breathing stuff
Might seem a work of pain; so not enough
Can I admire how crystal-smooth it felt,
And buoyant round my limbs. At first I dwelt
Whole days and days in sheer astonishment;
Forgetful utterly of self-intent,
Moving but with the mighty ebb and flow.
Then like a new-fledged bird that first doth show
His spreaded feathers to the morrow chill,
I tried in fear the pinions of my will.
‘Twas freedom! and at once I visited
The ceaseless wonders of his ocean-bed,”
etc.- Keats.

The Rural Deities

Pan, the god of woods and fields, of flocks and shepherds, dwelt in grottos, wandered on the mountains and in valleys, and amused himself with the chase or in leading the dances of the nymphs. He was fond of music, and as we have seen, the inventor of the syrinx, or shepherd’s pipe, which he himself played in a masterly manner. Pan, like other gods who dwelt in forests, was dreaded by those whose occupations caused them to pass through the woods by night, for the gloom and loneliness of such scenes dispose the mind to superstitious fears. Hence sudden fright without any visible cause was ascribed to Pan, and called a Panic terror.

As the name of the god signifies ALL, Pan came to be considered a symbol of the universe and personification of Nature; and later still to be regarded as a representative of all the gods and of heathenism itself.

Sylvanus and Faunus were Latin divinities, whose characteristics are so nearly the same as those of Pan that we may safely consider them as the same personage under different names.

The wood-nymphs, Pan’s partners in the dance, were but one class of nymphs. There were beside them the Naiads, who presided over brooks and fountains, the Oreads, nymphs of mountains and grottos, and the Nereids, sea-nymphs. The three last named were immortal, but the wood-nymphs, called Dryads or Hamadryads, were believed to perish with the trees which had been their abode and with which they had come into existence. It was therefore an impious act wantonly to destroy a tree, and in some aggravated cases were severely punished, as in the instance of Erisichthon, which we are about to record.

Milton in his glowing description of the early creation, thus alludes to Pan as the personification of Nature:

“… Universal Pan,
Knit with the Graces and the Hours in dance,
Led on the eternal spring.”

And describing Eve’s abode:

“… In shadier bower,
More sacred or sequestered, though but feigned,
Pan or Sylvanus never slept, nor nymph
Nor Faunus haunted.”

- Paradise Lost, B. IV.

It was a pleasing trait in the old Paganism that it loved to trace in every operation of nature the agency of deity. The imagination of the Greeks peopled all the regions of earth and sea with divinities, to whose agency it attributed those phenomena which our philosophy ascribes to the operation of the laws of nature. Sometimes in our poetical moods we feel disposed to regret the change, and to think that the heart has lost as much as the head has gained by the substitution. The poet Wordsworth thus strongly expresses this sentiment:

“… Great God, I’d rather be
A Pagan, suckled in a creed outworn,
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea,
And hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.”

Schiller, in his poem “Die Gotter Griechenlands,” expresses his regret for the overthrow of the beautiful mythology of ancient times in a way which has called forth an answer from a Christian poet, Mrs. E. Barrett Browning, in her poem called “The Dead Pan.” The two following verses are a specimen:

“By your beauty which confesses
Some chief Beauty conquering you,
By our grand heroic guesses
Through your falsehood at the True,
We will weep NOT! earth shall roll
Heir to each god’s aureole,
And Pan is dead.

“Earth outgrows the mythic fancies
Sung beside her in her youth;
And those debonaire romances
Sound but dull beside the truth.
Phoebus’ chariot course is run!
Look up, poets, to the sun!
Pan, Pan is dead.”

These lines are founded on an early Christian tradition that when the heavenly host told the shepherds at Bethlehem of the birth of Christ, a deep groan, heard through all the isles of Greece, told that the great Pan was dead, and that all the royalty of Olympus was dethroned and the several deities were sent wandering in cold and darkness. So Milton in his “Hymn on the Nativity”:

“The lonely mountains o’er,
And the resounding shore,
A voice of weeping heard and loud lament;
From haunted spring and dale,
Edged with poplar pale,
The parting Genius is with sighing sent;
With flower-enwoven tresses torn,
The nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn.”

Erisichthon

Erisichthon was a profane person and a despiser of the gods. On one occasion he presumed to violate with the axe a grove sacred to Ceres. There stood in this grove a venerable oak so large that it seemed a wood in itself, its ancient trunk towering aloft, whereon votive garlands were often hung and inscriptions carved expressing the gratitude of suppliants to the nymph of the tree. Often had the Dryads danced round it hand in hand. Its trunk measured fifteen cubits round, and it overtopped the other trees as they overtopped the shrubbery. But for all that, Erisichthon saw no reason why he should spare it and he ordered his servants to cut it down. When he saw them hesitate he snatched an axe from one, and thus impiously exclaimed: “I care not whether it be a tree beloved of the goddess or not; were it the goddess herself it should come down if it stood in my way.” So saying, he lifted the axe and the oak seemed to shudder and utter a groan. When the first blow fell upon the trunk blood flowed from the wound. All the bystanders were horror-struck, and one of them ventured to remonstrate and hold back the fatal axe. Erisichthon, with a scornful look, said to him, “Receive the reward of your piety;” and turned against him the weapon which he had held aside from the tree, gashed his body with many wounds, and cut off his head. Then from the midst of the oak came a voice, “I who dwell in this tree am a nymph beloved of Ceres, and dying by your hands forewarn you that punishment awaits you.” He desisted not from his crime, and at last the tree, sundered by repeated blows and drawn by ropes, fell with a crash and prostrated a great part of the grove in its fall.

The Dryads in dismay at the loss of their companion and at seeing the pride of the forest laid low, went in a body to Ceres, all clad in garments of mourning, and invoked punishment upon Erisichthon. She nodded her assent, and as she bowed her head the grain ripe for harvest in the laden fields bowed also. She planned a punishment so dire that one would pity him, if such a culprit as he could be pitied, – to deliver him over to Famine. As Ceres herself could not approach Famine, for the Fates have ordained that these two goddesses shall never come together, she called an Oread from her mountain and spoke to her in these words: “There is a place in the farthest part of ice-clad Scythia, a sad and sterile region without trees and without crops. Cold dwells there, and Fear and Shuddering, and Famine. Go and tell the last to take possession of the bowels of Erisichthon. Let not abundance subdue her, nor the power of my gifts drive her away. Be not alarmed at the distance” (for Famine dwells very far from Ceres), “but take my chariot. The dragons are fleet and obey the rein, and will take you through the air in a short time.” So she gave her the reins, and she drove away and soon reached Scythia. On arriving at Mount Caucasus she stopped the dragons and found Famine in a stony field, pulling up with teeth and claws the scanty herbage. Her hair was rough, her eyes sunk, her face pale, her lips blanched, her jaws covered with dust, and her skin drawn tight, so as to show all her bones. As the Oread saw her afar off (for she did not dare to come near), she delivered the commands of Ceres; and, though she stopped as short a time as possible, and kept her distance as well as she could, yet she began to feel hungry, and turned the dragons’ heads and drove back to Thessaly.

Famine obeyed the commands of Ceres and sped through the air to the dwelling of Erisichthon, entered the bedchamber of the guilty man, and found him asleep. She enfolded him with her wings and breathed herself into him, infusing her poison into his veins. Having discharged her task, she hastened to leave the land of plenty and returned to her accustomed haunts. Erisichthon still slept, and in his dreams craved food, and moved his jaws as if eating. When he awoke, his hunger was raging. Without a moment’s delay he would have food set before him, of whatever kind earth sea, or air produces; and complained of hunger even while he ate. What would have sufficed for a city or a nation, was not enough for him. The more he ate the more he craved. His hunger was like the sea, which receives all the rivers, yet is never filled; or like fire, that burns all the fuel that is heaped upon it, yet is still voracious for more.

His property rapidly diminished under the unceasing demands of his appetite, but his hunger continued unabated. At length he had spent all and had only his daughter left, a daughter worthy of a better parent. Her too he sold. She scorned to be the slave of a purchaser and as she stood by the seaside raised her hands in prayer to Neptune. He heard her prayer, and though her new master was not far off and had his eye upon her a moment before, Neptune changed her form and made her assume that of a fisherman busy at his occupation. Her master, looking for her and seeing her in her altered form, addressed her and said, “Good fisherman, whither went the maiden whom I saw just now, with hair dishevelled and in humble garb, standing about where you stand? Tell me truly; so may your luck be good and not a fish nibble at your hook and get away.” She perceived that her prayer was answered and rejoiced inwardly at hearing herself inquired of about herself. She replied, “Pardon me, stranger, but I have been so intent upon my line that I have seen nothing else; but I wish I may never catch another fish if I believe any woman or other person except myself to have been hereabouts for some time.” He was deceived and went his way, thinking his slave had escaped. Then she resumed her own form. Her father was well pleased to find her still with him, and the money too that he got by the sale of her; so he sold her again. But she was changed by the favor of Neptune as often as she was sold, now into a horse, now a bird, now an ox, and now a stag, – got away from her purchasers and came home. By this base method the starving father procured food; but not enough for his wants, and at last hunger compelled him to devour his limbs, and he strove to nourish his body by eating his body, till death relieved him from the vengeance of Ceres.

Rhoecus

The Hamadryads could appreciate services as well as punish injuries. The story of Rhoecus proves this. Rhoecus, happening to see an oak just ready to fall, ordered his servants to prop it up. The nymph, who had been on the point of perishing with the tree, came and expressed her gratitude to him for having saved her life and bade him ask what reward he would. Rhoecus boldly asked her love and the nymph yielded to his desire. She at the same time charged him to be constant and told him that a bee should be her messenger and let him know when she would admit his society. One time the bee came to Rhoecus when he was playing at draughts and he carelessly brushed it away. This so incensed the nymph that she deprived him of sight.

Our countryman, J. R. Lowell, has taken this story for the subject of one of his shorter poems. He introduces it thus:

“Hear now this fairy legend of old Greece,
As full of freedom, youth and beauty still,
As the immortal freshness of that grace
Carved for all ages on some Attic frieze.”

The Water Deities

Oceanus and Tethys were the Titans who ruled over the watery element. When Jove and his brothers overthrew the Titans and assumed their power, Neptune and Amphitrite succeeded to the dominion of the waters in place of Oceanus and Tethys.

Neptune

Neptune was the chief of the water deities. The symbol of his power was the trident, or spear with three points, with which he used to shatter rocks, to call forth or subdue storms, to shake the shores and the like. He created the horse and was the patron of horse races. His own horses had brazen hoofs and golden manes. They drew his chariot over the sea, which became smooth before him, while the monsters of the deep gambolled about his path.

Amphitrite

Amphitrite was the wife of Neptune. She was the daughter of Nereus and Doris, and the mother of Triton. Neptune, to pay his court to Amphitrite, came riding on a dolphin. Having won her he rewarded the dolphin by placing him among the stars.

Nereus and Doris

Nereus and Doris were the parents of the Nereids, the most celebrated of whom were Amphitrite, Thetis, the mother of Achilles, and Galatea, who was loved by the Cyclops Polyphemus. Nereus was distinguished for his knowledge and his love of truth and justice, whence he was termed an elder; the gift of prophecy was also assigned to him.

Triton and Proteus

Triton was the son of Neptune and Amphitrite, and the poets make him his father’s trumpeter. Proteus was also a son of Neptune. He, like Nereus, is styled a sea-elder for his wisdom and knowledge of future events. His peculiar power was that of changing his shape at will.

Thetis

Thetis, the daughter of Nereus and Doris, was so beautiful that Jupiter himself sought her in marriage; but having learned from Prometheus the Titan that Thetis should bear a son who should grow greater than his father, Jupiter desisted from his suit and decreed that Thetis should be the wife of a mortal. By the aid of Chiron the Centaur, Peleus succeeded in winning the goddess for his bride and their son was the renowned Achilles. In our chapter on the Trojan war it will appear that Thetis was a faithful mother to him, aiding him in all difficulties, and watching over his interests from the first to the last.

Leucothea and Palaemon

Ino, the daughter of Cadmus and wife of Athamas, flying from her frantic husband with her little son Melicertes in her arms, sprang from a cliff into the sea. The gods, out of compassion, made her a goddess of the sea, under the name of Leucothea, and him a god, under that of Palaemon. Both were held powerful to save from shipwreck and were invoked by sailors. Palaemon was usually represented riding on a dolphin. The Isthmian games were celebrated in his honor. He was called Portunus by the Romans, and believed to have jurisdiction of the ports and shores.

Milton alludes to all these deities in the song at the conclusion of “Comus”:

“… Sabrina fair,
Listen and appear to us,
In name of great Oceanus;
By the earth-shaking Neptune’s mace,
And Tethys’ grave, majestic pace,
By hoary Nereus’ wrinkled look,
And the Carpathian wizard’s hook, [Footnote: Proteus]
By scaly Triton’s winding shell,
And old soothsaying Glaucus’ spell,
By Leucothea’s lovely hands,
And her son who rules the strands.
By Thetis’ tinsel-slippered feet,
And the songs of Sirens sweet;” etc.

Armstrong, the poet of the “Art of preserving Health,” under the inspiration of Hygeia, the goddess of health, thus celebrates the Naiads. Paeon is a name both of Apollo and Aesculapius.

“Come, ye Naiads! to the fountains lead!
Propitious maids! the task remains to sing
Your gifts (so Paeon, so the powers of Health
Command), to praise your crystal element.
O comfortable streams! with eager lips
And trembling hands the languid thirsty quaff
New life in you; fresh vigor fills their veins.
No warmer cups the rural ages knew,
None warmer sought the sires of humankind;
Happy in temperate peace their equal days
Felt not the alternate fits of feverish mirth
And sick dejection; still serene and pleased,
Blessed with divine immunity from ills,
Long centuries they lived; their only fate
Was ripe old age, and rather sleep than death.”

The Camenae

By this name the Latins designated the Muses, but included under it also some other deities, principally nymphs of fountains. Egeria was one of them, whose fountain and grotto are still shown. It was said that Numa, the second king of Rome, was favored by this nymph with secret interviews, in which she taught him those lessons of wisdom and of law which he imbodied in the institutions of his rising nation. After the death of Numa the nymph pined away and was changed into a fountain.

Byron, in “Childe Harold,” Canto IV., thus alludes to Egeria and her grotto:

“Here didst thou dwell, in this enchanted cover,
Egeria! all thy heavenly bosom beating
For the far footsteps of thy mortal lover;
The purple midnight veiled that mystic meeting
With her most starry canopy;” etc.

Tennyson, also, in his “Palace of Art,” gives us a glimpse of the royal lover expecting the interview:

“Holding one hand against his ear,
To list a footfall ere he saw
The wood-nymph, stayed the Tuscan king to hear
Of wisdom and of law.”

The Winds

When so many less active agencies were personified, it is not to be supposed that the winds failed to be so. They were Boreas or Aquilo, the north wind; Zephyrus or Favonius, the west; Notus or Auster, the south; and Eurus, the east. The first two have been chiefly celebrated by the poets, the former as the type of rudeness, the latter of gentleness. Boreas loved the nymph Orithyia, and tried to play the lover’s part, but met with poor success. It was hard for him to breathe gently, and sighing was out of the question. Weary at last of fruitless endeavors, he acted out his true character, seized the maiden and carried her off. Their children were Zetes and Calais, winged warriors, who accompanied the Argonautic expedition, and did good service in an encounter with those monstrous birds the Harpies.

Zephyrus was the lover of Flora. Milton alludes to them in “Paradise Lost,” where he describes Adam waking and contemplating Eve still asleep.

“… He on his side
Leaning half raised, with looks of cordial love,
Hung over her enamored, and beheld
Beauty which, whether waking or asleep,
Shot forth peculiar graces; then with voice,
Mild as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes,
Her hand soft touching, whispered thus: ‘Awake!
My fairest, my espoused, my latest found,
Heaven’s last, best gift, my ever-new delight.’”

Dr. Young, the poet of the “Night Thoughts,” addressing the idle and luxurious, says:

“Ye delicate! who nothing can support
(Yourselves most insupportable) for whom
The winter rose must blow, …
… and silky soft
Favonius breathe still softer or be chid!”

Cupid and Psyche Chapter XI
From Thomas Bulfinch (1796–1867). Age of Fable: Vols. I & II: Stories of Gods and Heroes. 1913.

A certain king and queen had three daughters. The charms of the two elder were more than common, but the beauty of the youngest was so wonderful that the poverty of language is unable to express its due praise. The fame of her beauty was so great that strangers from neighbouring countries came in crowds to enjoy the sight, and looked on her with amazement, paying her that homage which is due only to Venus herself. In fact Venus found her altars deserted, while men turned their devotion to this young virgin. As she passed along, the people sang her praises, and strewed her way with chaplets and flowers.
This perversion of homage due only to the immortal powers to the exaltation of a mortal gave great offence to the real Venus. Shaking her ambrosial locks with indignation, she exclaimed, “Am I then to be eclipsed in my honours by a mortal girl? In vain then did that royal shepherd, whose judgment was approved by Jove himself, give me the palm of beauty over my illustrious rivals, Pallas and Juno. But she shall not so quietly usurp my honours. I will give her cause to repent of so unlawful a beauty.”

Thereupon she calls her winged son Cupid, mischievous enough in his own nature, and rouses and provokes him yet more by her complaints. She points out Psyche to him and says, “My dear son, punish that contumacious beauty; give thy mother a revenge as sweet as her injuries are great; infuse into the bosom of that haughty girl a passion for some low, mean, unworthy being, so that she may reap a mortification as great as her present exultation and triumph.”

Cupid prepared to obey the commands of his mother. There are two fountains in Venus’s garden, one of sweet waters, the other of bitter. Cupid filled two amber vases, one from each fountain, and suspending them from the top of his quiver, hastened to the chamber of Psyche, whom he found asleep. He shed a few drops from the bitter fountain over her lips, though the sight of her almost moved him to pity; then touched her side with the point of his arrow. At the touch she awoke, and opened eyes upon Cupid (himself invisible), which so startled him that in his confusion he wounded himself with his own arrow. Heedless of his wound, his whole thought now was to repair the mischief he had done, and he poured the balmy drops of joy over all her silken ringlets.

Psyche, henceforth frowned upon by Venus, derived no benefit from all her charms. True, all eyes were cast eagerly upon her, and every mouth spoke her praises; but neither king, royal youth, nor plebeian presented himself to demand her in marriage. Her two elder sisters of moderate charms had now long been married to two royal princes; but Psyche, in her lonely apartment, deplored her solitude, sick of that beauty which, while it procured abundance of flattery, had failed to awaken love.

Her parents, afraid that they had unwittingly incurred the anger of the gods, consulted the oracle of Apollo, and received this answer: “The virgin is destined for the bride of no mortal lover. Her future husband awaits her on the top of the mountain. He is a monster whom neither gods nor men can resist.”

This dreadful decree of the oracle filled all the people with dismay, and her parents abandoned themselves to grief. But Psyche said, “Why, my dear parents, do you now lament me? You should rather have grieved when the people showered upon me undeserved honours, and with one voice called me a Venus. I now perceive that I am a victim to that name. I submit. Lead me to that rock to which my unhappy fate has destined me.” Accordingly, all things being prepared, the royal maid took her place in the procession, which more resembled a funeral than a nuptial pomp, and with her parents, amid the lamentations of the people, ascended the mountain, on the summit of which they left her alone, and with sorrowful hearts returned home.

While Psyche stood on the ridge of the mountain, panting with fear and with eyes full of tears, the gentle Zephyr raised her from the earth and bore her with an easy motion into a flowery dale. By degrees her mind became composed, and she laid herself down on the grassy bank to sleep. When she awoke refreshed with sleep, she looked round and beheld near by a pleasant grove of tall and stately trees. She entered it, and in the midst discovered a fountain, sending forth clear and crystal waters, and fast by, a magnificent palace whose august front impressed the spectator that it was not the work of mortal hands, but the happy retreat of some god. Drawn by admiration and wonder, she approached the building and ventured to enter. Every object she met filled her with pleasure and amazement. Golden pillars supported the vaulted roof, and the walls were enriched with carvings and paintings representing beasts of the chase and rural scenes, adapted to delight the eye of the beholder. Proceeding onward, she perceived that besides the apartments of state there were others filled with all manner of treasures, and beautiful and precious productions of nature and art.

While her eyes were thus occupied, a voice addressed her, though she saw no one, uttering these words: “Sovereign lady, all that you see is yours. We whose voices you hear are your servants and shall obey all your commands with our utmost care and diligence. Retire, therefore, to your chamber and repose on your bed of down, and when you see fit repair to the bath. Supper awaits you in the adjoining alcove when it pleases you to take your seat there.”

Psyche gave ear to the admonitions of her vocal attendants, and after repose and the refreshment of the bath, seated herself in the alcove, where a table immediately presented itself, without any visible aid from waiters or servants, and covered with the greatest delicacies of food and the most nectareous wines. Her ears too were feasted with music from invisible performers; of whom one sang, another played on the lute, and all closed in the wonderful harmony of a full chorus.

She had not yet seen her destined husband. He came only in the hours of darkness and fled before the dawn of morning, but his accents were full of love, and inspired a like passion in her. She often begged him to stay and let her behold him, but he would not consent. On the contrary he charged her to make no attempt to see him, for it was his pleasure, for the best of reasons, to keep concealed. “Why should you wish to behold me?” he said; “have you any doubt of my love? have you any wish ungratified? If you saw me, perhaps you would fear me, perhaps adore me, but all I ask of you is to love me. I would rather you would love me as an equal than adore me as a god.”

This reasoning somewhat quieted Psyche for a time, and while the novelty lasted she felt quite happy. But at length the thought of her parents, left in ignorance of her fate, and of her sisters, precluded from sharing with her the delights of her situation, preyed on her mind and made her begin to feel her palace as but a splendid prison, When her husband came one night, she told him her distress, and at last drew from him an unwilling consent that her sisters should be brought to see her.

So, calling Zephyr, she acquainted him with her husband’s commands, and he, promptly obedient, soon brought them across the mountain down to their sister’s valley. They embraced her and she returned their caresses. “Come,” said Psyche, “enter with me my house and refresh yourselves with whatever your sister has to offer.” Then taking their hands she led them into her golden palace, and committed them to the care of her numerous train of attendant voices, to refresh them in her baths and at her table, and to show them all her treasures. The view of these celestial delights caused envy to enter their bosoms, at seeing their young sister possessed of such state and splendour so much exceeding their own.

They asked her numberless questions, among others what sort of a person her husband was. Psyche replied that he was a beautiful youth, who generally spent the daytime in hunting upon the mountains. The sisters, not satisfied with this reply, soon made her confess that she had never seen him. Then they proceeded to fill her bosom with dark suspicions. “Call to mind,” they said, “the Pythian oracle that declared you destined to marry a direful and tremendous monster. The inhabitants of this valley say that your husband is a terrible and monstrous serpent, who nourishes you for a while with dainties that he may by and by devour you. Take our advice. Provide yourself with a lamp and a sharp knife; put them in concealment that your husband may not discover them, and when he is sound asleep, slip out of bed, bring forth your lamp, and see for yourself whether what they say is true or not. If it is, hesitate not to cut off the monster’s head, and thereby recover your liberty.”

Psyche resisted these persuasions as well as she could, but they did not fail to have their effect on her mind, and when her sisters were gone, their words and her own curiosity were too strong for her to resist. So she prepared her lamp and a sharp knife, and hid them out of sight of her husband. When he had fallen into his first sleep, she silently rose and uncovering her lamp beheld not a hideous monster, but the most beautiful and charming of the gods, with his golden ringlets wandering over his snowy neck and crimson cheek, with two dewy wings on his shoulders, whiter than snow, and with shining feathers like the tender blossoms of spring. As she leaned the lamp over to have a nearer view of his face a drop of burning oil fell on the shoulder of the god, startled with which he opened his eyes and fixed them full upon her; then, without saying one word, he spread his white wings and flew out of the window. Psyche, in vain endeavouring to follow him, fell from the window to the ground. Cupid, beholding her as she lay in the dust, stopped his flight for an instant and said, “O foolish Psyche, is it thus you repay my love? After having disobeyed my mother’s commands and made you my wife, will you think me a monster and cut off my head? But go; return to your sisters, whose advice you seem to think preferable to mine. I inflict no other punishment on you than to leave you for ever. Love cannot dwell with suspicion.” So saying, he fled away, leaving poor Psyche prostrate on the ground, filling the place with mournful lamentations.

When she had recovered some degree of composure she looked around her, but the palace and gardens had vanished, and she found herself in the open field not far from the city where her sisters dwelt. She repaired thither and told them the whole story of her misfortunes, at which, pretending to grieve, those spiteful creatures inwardly rejoiced. “For now,” said they, “he will perhaps choose one of us.” With this idea, without saying a word of her intentions, each of them rose early the next morning and ascended the mountain, and having reached the top, called upon Zephyr to receive her and bear her to his lord; then leaping up, and not being sustained by Zephyr, fell down the precipice and was dashed to pieces.

Psyche meanwhile wandered day and night, without food or repose, in search of her husband. Casting her eyes on a lofty mountain having on its brow a magnificent temple, she sighed and said to herself, “Perhaps my love, my lord, inhabits there,” and directed her steps thither.

She had no sooner entered than she saw heaps of corn, some in loose ears and some in sheaves, with mingled ears of barley. Scattered about, lay sickles and rakes, and all the instruments of harvest, without order, as if thrown carelessly out of the weary reapers’ hands in the sultry hours of the day.

This unseemly confusion the pious Psyche put an end to, by separating and sorting everything to its proper place and kind, believing that she ought to neglect none of the gods, but endeavour by her piety to engage them all in her behalf. The holy Ceres, whose temple it was, finding her so religiously employed, thus spoke to her: “O Psyche, truly worthy of our pity, though I cannot shield you from the frowns of Venus, yet I can teach you how best to allay her displeasure. Go, then, and voluntarily surrender yourself to your lady and sovereign, and try by modesty and submission to win her forgiveness, and perhaps her favour will restore you the husband you have lost.”

Psyche obeyed the commands of Ceres and took her way to the temple of Venus, endeavouring to fortify her mind and ruminating on what she should say and how best propitiate the angry goddess, feeling that the issue was doubtful and perhaps fatal.

Venus received her with angry countenance. “Most undutiful and faithless of servants,” said she, “do you at last remember that you really have a mistress? Or have you rather come to see your sick husband, yet laid up of the wound given him by his loving wife? You are so ill-favoured and disagreeable that the only way you can merit your lover must be by dint of industry and diligence. I will make trial of your housewifery.” Then she ordered Psyche to be led to the storehouse of her temple, where was laid up a great quantity of wheat, barley, millet, vetches, beans, and lentils prepared for food for her pigeons, and said, “Take and separate all these grains, putting all of the same kind in a parcel by themselves, and see that you get it done before evening.” Then Venus departed and left her to her task.

But Psyche, in a perfect consternation at the enormous work, sat stupid and silent, without moving a finger to the inextricable heap.

While she sat despairing, Cupid stirred up the little ant, a native of the fields, to take compassion on her. The leader of the ant-hill, followed by whole hosts of his six-legged subjects, approached the heap, and with the utmost diligence taking grain by grain, they separated the pile, sorting each kind to its parcel; and when it was all done, they vanished out of sight in a moment.

Venus at the approach of twilight returned from the banquet of the gods. breathing odours and crowned with roses. Seeing the task done, she exclaimed, “This is no work of yours, wicked one, but his, whom to your own and his misfortune you have enticed.” So saying, she threw her a piece of black bread for her supper and went away.

Next morning Venus ordered Psyche to be called and said to her, “Behold yonder grove which stretches along the margin of the water. There you will find sheep feeding without a shepherd, with golden-shining fleeces on their backs. Go, fetch me a sample of that precious wool gathered from every one of their fleeces.”

Psyche obediently went to the riverside, prepared to do her best to execute the command. But the river god inspired the reeds with harmonious murmurs, which seemed to say, “O maiden, severely tried, tempt not the dangerous flood, nor venture among the formidable rams on the other side, for as long as they are under the influence of the rising sun, they burn with a cruel rage to destroy mortals with their sharp horns or rude teeth. But when the noontide sun has driven the cattle to the shade, and the serene spirit of the flood has lulled them to rest, you may then cross in safety, and you will find the woolly gold sticking to the bushes and the trunks of the trees.”

Thus the compassionate river god gave Psyche instructions how to accomplish her task, and by observing his directions she soon returned to Venus with her arms full of the golden fleece; but she received not the approbation of her implacable mistress, who said, “I know very well it is by none of your own doings that you have succeeded in this task, and I am not satisfied yet that you have any capacity to make yourself useful. But I have another task for you. Here, take this box and go your way to the infernal shades, and give this box to Proserpine and say, ‘My mistress Venus desires you to send her a little of your beauty, for in tending her sick son she has lost some of her own.’ Be not too long on your errand, for I must paint myself with it to appear at the circle of the gods and goddesses this evening.”

Psyche was now satisfied that her destruction was at hand, being obliged to go with her own feet directly down to Erebus. Wherefore, to make no delay of what was not to be avoided, she goes to the top of a high tower to precipitate herself headlong, thus to descend the shortest way to the shades below. But a voice from the tower said to her, “Why, poor unlucky girl, dost thou design to put an end to thy days in so dreadful a manner? And what cowardice makes thee sink under this last danger who hast been so miraculously supported in all thy former?” Then the voice told her how by a certain cave she might reach the realms of Pluto, and how to avoid all the dangers of the road, to pass by Cerberus, the three-headed dog, and prevail on Charon, the ferryman, to take her across the black river and bring her back again. But the voice added, “When Proserpine has given you the box filled with her beauty, of all things this is chiefly to be observed by you, that you never once open or look into the box nor allow your curiosity to pry into the treasure of the beauty of the goddesses.”

Psyche, encouraged by this advice, obeyed it in all things, and taking heed to her ways travelled safely to the kingdom of Pluto. She was admitted to the palace of Proserpine, and without accepting the delicate seat or delicious banquet that was offered her, but contented with coarse bread for her food, she delivered her message from Venus. Presently the box was returned to her, shut and filled with the precious commodity. Then she returned the way she came, and glad was she to come out once more into the light of day.

But having got so far successfully through her dangerous task a longing desire seized her to examine the contents of the box, “What,” said she, “shall I, the carrier of this divine beauty, not take the least bit to put on my cheeks to appear to more advantage in the eyes of my beloved husband!” So she carefully opened the box, but found nothing there of any beauty at all, but an infernal and truly Stygian sleep, which being thus set free from its prison, took possession of her, and she fell down in the midst of the road, a sleepy corpse without sense or motion.

But Cupid, being now recovered from his wound, and not able longer to bear the absence of his beloved Psyche, slipping through the smallest crack of the window of his chamber which happened to be left open, flew to the spot where Psyche lay, and gathering up the sleep from her body closed it again in the box, and waked Psyche with a light touch of one of his arrows. “Again,” said he, “hast thou almost perished by the same curiosity. But now perform exactly the task imposed on you by my mother, and I will take care of the rest.

Then Cupid, as swift as lightning penetrating the heights of heaven, presented himself before Jupiter with his supplication. Jupiter lent a favouring ear, and pleaded the cause of the lovers so earnestly with Venus that he won her consent. On this he sent Mercury to bring Psyche up to the heavenly assembly, and when she arrived, handing her a cup of ambrosia, he said, “Drink this, Psyche, and be immortal; nor shall Cupid ever break away from the knot in which he is tied, but these nuptials shall be perpetual.”

Thus Psyche became at last united to Cupid, and in due time they had a daughter born to them whose name was Pleasure.

The fable of Cupid and Psyche is usually considered allegorical. The Greek name for a butterfly is Psyche, and the same word means the soul. There is no illustration of the immortality of the soul so striking and beautiful as the butterfly, bursting on brilliant wings from the tomb in which it has lain, after a dull, grovelling, caterpillar existence, to flutter in the blaze of day and feed on the most fragrant and delicate productions of the spring. Psyche, then, is the human soul, which is purified by sufferings and misfortunes, and is thus prepared for the enjoyment of true and pure happiness.

In works of art Psyche is represented as a maiden with the wings of a butterfly, along with Cupid, in the different situations described in the allegory.

Milton alludes to the story of Cupid and Psyche in the conclusion of his “Comus”:
“Celestial Cupid, her famed son, advanced,
Holds his dear Psyche sweet entranced,
After her wandering labours long,
Till free consent the gods among
Make her his eternal bride;
And from her fair unspotted side
Two blissful twins are to be born,
Youth and Joy; so Jove hath sworn.”

The allegory of the story of Cupid and Psyche is well presented in the beautiful lines of T. K. Harvey:

“They wove bright fables in the days of old,
When reason borrowed fancy’s painted wings;

When truth’s clear river flowed o’er sands of gold,
And told in song its high and mystic things!

And such the sweet and solemn tale of her
The pilgrim heart, to whom a dream was given,

That led her through the world,- Love’s worshipper,-
To seek on earth for him whose home was heaven!

“In the full city,- by the haunted fount,-
Through the dim grotto’s tracery of spars,-

‘Mid the pine temples, on the moonlit mount,
Where silence sits to listen to the stars;

In the deep glade where dwells the brooding dove,
The painted valley, and the scented air,

She heard far echoes of the voice of Love,
And found his footsteps’ traces everywhere.

“But nevermore they met! since doubts and fears,
Those phantom shapes that haunt and blight the earth,

Had come ‘twixt her, a child of sin and tears,
And that bright spirit of immortal birth;

Until her pining soul and weeping eyes

Had learned to seek him only in the skies;

Till wings unto the weary heart were given,

And she became Love’s angel bride in heaven!”

The story of Cupid and Psyche first appears in the works of Apuleius, a writer of the second century of our era. It is therefore of much more recent date than most of the legends of the Age of Fable. It is this that Keats alludes to in his “Ode to Psyche”:

“O latest born and loveliest vision far
Of all Olympus’ faded hierarchy!

Fairer than Phoebe’s sapphire-regioned star
Or Vesper, amorous glow-worm of the sky;

Fairer than these, though temple thou hast none,
Nor altar heaped with flowers;

Nor virgin choir to make delicious moan
Upon the midnight hours;

No voice, no lute, no pipe, no incense sweet,
From chain-swung censer teeming;

No shrine, no grove, no oracle, no heat
Of pale-mouthed prophet dreaming.”

In Moore’s “Summer Fete” a fancy ball is described, in which one of the characters personated is Psyche-

“…not in dark disguise to-night

Hath our young heroine veiled her light;-

For see, she walks the earth, Love’s own.
His wedded bride, by holiest vow

Pledged in Olympus, and made known
To mortals by the type which now
Hangs glittering on her snowy brow,
That butterfly, mysterious trinket,

Which means the soul, (though few would think it,)
And sparkling thus on brow so white
Tells us we’ve Psyche here to-night.”

Hera:

Who Is Hera?

Hera is the queen of the gods. She is usually plotting either to favor the Greeks over the Trojans, as in Homer’s Iliad, or against one of the females who has caught the roving eye of her philandering husband, Zeus. At other times, Hera is shown plotting mischief against Heracles.
Myths re-told by Thomas Bulfinch about Hera (Juno) include:

Monsters
Nisus and Scylla – Echo and Narcissus – Clytie – Hero and Leander
Juno and Her Rivals
Hercules — Hebe and Ganymede
Occupation:

Goddess
Gods and Goddesses Index
Family of Origin:

The Greek goddess Hera is one of the daughters of Cronus and Rhea. She is the sister and wife of the king of the gods, Zeus.
Roman Equivalent:

The Greek goddess Hera was known as the goddess Juno by the Romans.
Attributes of Hera:

Peacock, cow, crow and pomegranate for fertility. She is described as cow-eyed.
Powers of Hera:

Hera is the queen of the gods and the wife of Zeus. She is the goddess of marriage and is one of the childbirth goddesses. She created the Milky Way when she was lactating.
Sources on Hera:

Ancient sources for Hera include: Apollodorus, Cicero, Euripides, Hesiod, Homer, Hyginus, and Nonnius.

Children of Hera:

Hera was the mother of Hephaestus. Sometimes she is credited with giving birth to him without the input of a male as a response to Zeus’ giving birth to Athena from his head. Hera was not pleased with the clubfoot of her son. Either she or her husband threw Hephaestus from Olympus. He fell to earth where he was tended by Thetis, the mother of Achilles, for which reason he created Achilles’ great shield.
Hera was also the mother, with Zeus, of Ares and Hebe, the cupbearer of the gods who marries Heracles.

Hestia:

The honored, first born of the Olympian gods, Greek goddess Hestia is also called the last born because her father swallowed his children and then regurgitated them in reverse order. Hestia has power over altars, hearths, town halls and states. In return for a vow of chastity, Zeus assigned honor to Hestia in human homes.
Occupation:

Goddess
Gods and Goddesses Index
Family of Origin:

Hestia was the first born child of Cronos and Rhea. Her brothers were Zeus, Hades, and Poseidon. Her sisters were Demeter and Hera.
Roman Equivalent:

Vesta
Attributes:

Hestia is associated with the hearth. Hestia almost never leaves home. She swore a vow of eternal chastity.
Sources:

Ancient sources for Hestia include: Apollodorus, Cicero, Diodorus Siculus, Hesiod, Ovid, Pindar, and Bacchylides.

Persephone:

Definition: Persephone was the daughter of Zeus and Demeter. While she was playing, Persephone was abducted by Hades who had come for her in a chariot. He quickly and secretly dragged her down to his kingdom, where she stayed unwillingly, refusing to eat. Finally, after Persephone’s mother Demeter persuaded Zeus to make Hades return her daughter to her, Persephone relaxed and ate a bit (a few pomegranate seeds). Because of this, Persephone was compelled to spend part of her life there with Hades. During this time, Demeter mourns, and so, Earth experiences winter. When Persephone returns, it becomes spring. This story lies behind the Eleusinian mysteries.
Persephone is often called kore, the maiden. She is also called the queen of the Underworld. Theseus was involved in an attempt to steal Persephone from the Underworld.

Also Known As: Kore
Examples:
The name Persephone may come from words meaning Sheaf-Beater.

Greek Gods and Goddesses:

There are many types of immortal beings in Greek mythology. Some are depicted as humanoid, some as part animal, and some personifications are not readily visualized. The gods and goddesses of Mt. Olympus can walk among mortals undetected. They each tend to have a special area they control. Thus, you have the god of thunder or grain or the hearth.

In Greek Gods and Goddesses you’ll find information on the 12 Olympians, the children of the Titans Cronus and Rhea, as well as some of the other Titans, who are the children of Gaia and Uranus (Earth and Sky) and their non-Olympian children.

Individual Gods and Goddesses From Mt. Olympus:

Hades
Zeus
Poseidon
Apollo
Ares
Dionysus
Hephaestus
Hestia
Demeter
Hera
Artemis
Athena
Aphrodite
The Titans are among the more confusing of the immortals of Greek mythology. Some of them are stuck in the Underworld suffering for their misdeeds against the Olympian gods. There are two important generations of Titans.

Myths and Legends tells some of the major stories about the ancient immortals.

Special Female Deities – Muses and Nymphs:

The Muses were considered responsible for the arts, sciences, and poetry and were the children of Zeus and Mnemosyne, born in Pieria. Here you’ll find pictures of them, their spheres of influence, and their attributes:
Muses.

Nymphs appear as beautiful young women. There are several types and some individual nymphs who are famous in their own right.

Naiads are one variety of nymphs.

Roman Gods and Goddesses:

When talking about Greek mythology, the Romans are usually included. Although their origins may have been different, the main Olympian gods are the same (with a name change) for the Romans.

Roman – Greek God Equivalents.

Even before the Romans started expanding their empire around the time of the Punic Wars, they came in contact with other native peoples in the Italic peninsula. These had their own beliefs, many of which influenced the Romans. The Etruscans were particularly important.

Gregory Flood’s List of Roman Gods and Goddesses shows the spirits and personifications.

Foreign Gods and Goddesses
Punic Names for Roman Gods
Some Etruscan Gods and Their Roman Counterparts
Roman Gods and Goddesses of Agriculture
Roman Gods and Goddesses of Children and Childbirth
Roman Gods and Goddesses of Virtues and Personifications
Roman Genres of Spiritual Entities
Imperial Divi
Other Creatures:

Greek mythology has animal and part animal creatures. Many of these have supernatural powers. Some, like the Centaur Chiron, are capable of giving up the gift of immortality. Others can be killed with great difficulty and only by the greatest of the heroes. Snake-haired Medusa, for instance, killed by Perseus aided by Athena, Hades, and Hermes, is one of the 3 Gorgon sisters and is the only one who can be killed. Perhaps they don’t belong in a grouping of immortals, but they aren’t quite mortal, either.

Monsters in Greek Mythology
Chiron
Medusa.
Beliefs:

There were many beliefs in the ancient world. When the Romans started expanding, they sometimes joined together native deities with ones that sounded similar from back home. In addition to the religions with many gods there were others like Judaism, Christianity and Mithraism that were basically monothesistic or dualistic.

Here are some articles on mythology and beliefs in general, and on specialized topics, like oracles and writers about Greek mythology:
Beliefs.

Greek Mythology Study Guide:

The stories of Greek mythology include myths about the origin of the world, the creation of humans, the bringing of fire to mankind, a great flood, and more. Greek myth is not as organized a set of beliefs as modern monotheistic ones, so the Study Guide also looks at what is meant by Myth.

Ancient Mythology and Ideas in Historical Eras

Cybele and Attis: Cybele the Phrygian Fertility Goddess, Great Mother, Dindymene, Agdistis, Kubaba By N.S. Gill, About.com Guide

Cybele and Attis:
Cybele the Phrygian Fertility Goddess, Great Mother, Dindymene, Agdistis, Kubaba
By N.S. Gill, About.com Guide