Age Of Fable Or Beauties Of Mythology
Author: Bulfinch, Thomas

Chapter VII: Proserpine - Glaucus And Scylla.

When Jupiter and his brothers had defeated the Titans 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 aprrehension, 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 her 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-colored 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 in 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 vigor 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 splendor 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 labor 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 favors." 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! Aresthusa!' he cried. O, 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, endeavoring 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 favor. 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 splendor 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 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, nor 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 honor 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 favorite 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 color. 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 seaweed on the top of the mountains, than I will cease to love
Scylla, and her alone."

[See Circe: Circe - From the painting by Burne-Jones.]

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 hey 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 fulfills 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 this ocean-bed," &c.
Keats.