BULFINCH’S MYTHOLOGY

THE AGE OF FABLE

OR STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

by Thomas Bulfinch

[1855]

CHAPTER XXII

THE RURAL DEITIES – ERISICHTHON – RHOECUS – THE WATER DEITIES – THE CAMENAE
– THE WINDS

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 was, 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 besides 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 was 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
nation 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 a 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 favour 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
elements. 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 made 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 be
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, make 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 honour. 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,*

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.

* Proteus.

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 vigour 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 favoured by this nymph
with secret interviews, in which she taught him those lessons of
wisdom and of law which he embodied 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 endeavours, 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 enamoured, 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!”