CHAPTER V.
Phaethon
Phaethon was the son of
Apollo and the nymph Clymene. One day a
schoolfellow laughed at the idea of his being the son of the
god, and Phaeton went in rage and shame and reported it to his
mother. "If," said he, "I am indeed of heavenly birth, give me,
mother, some proof of it, and establish my claim to the honour."
Clymene stretched forth her hands towards the skies, and said,
"I call to witness the Sun which looks down upon us, that I have
told you the truth. If I speak falsely, let this be the last
time I behold his light. But it needs not much labour to go and
inquire for yourself; the land whence the Sun rises lies next to
ours. Go and demand of him whether he will own you as a son."
Phaeton heard with delight. He travelled to India, which lies
directly in the regions of sunrise; and, full of hope and pride,
approached the goal whence his parent begins his course.
The palace of the Sun stood reared aloft on columns,
glittering with gold and precious stones, while polished ivory
formed the ceilings, and silver the doors. The workmanship
surpassed the material;* for upon the walls Vulcan had
represented earth, sea, and skies, with their inhabitants. In
the sea were the nymphs, some sporting in the waves, some riding
on the backs of fishes, while others sat upon the rocks and
dried their sea-green hair. Their faces were not all alike, nor
yet unlike,- but such as sisters' ought to be. The earth had
its towns and forests and rivers and rustic divinities. Over all
was carved the likeness of the glorious heaven; and on the
silver doors the twelve signs of the zodiac, six on each side.
Clymene's son advanced up the steep ascent, and entered the
halls of his disputed father. He approached the paternal
presence, but stopped at a distance, for the light was more than
he could bear. Phoebus, arrayed in a purple vesture, sat on a
throne, which glittered as with diamonds. On his right hand and
his left stood the Day, the Month, and the Year, and, at regular
intervals, the Hours. Spring stood with her head crowned with
flowers, and Summer, with garment cast aside, and a garland
formed of spears of ripened grain, and Autumn, with his feet
stained with grape-juice, and icy Winter, with his hair
stiffened with hoar frost. Surrounded by these attendants, the
Sun, with the eye that sees everything, beheld the youth dazzled
with the novelty and splendour of the scene, and inquired the
purpose of his errand. The youth replied, "O light of the
boundless world, Phoebus, my father,- if you permit me to use
that name,- give me some proof, I beseech you, by which I may be
known as yours." He ceased; and his father, laying aside the
beams that shone all around his head, bade him approach, and
embracing him, said, "My son, you deserve not to be disowned,
and I confirm what your mother has told you. To put an end to
your doubts, ask what you will, the gift shall be yours. I call
to witness that dreadful lake, which I never saw, but which we
gods swear by in our most solemn engagements." Phaeton
immediately asked to be permitted for one day to drive the
chariot of the sun. The father repented of his promise; thrice
and four times he shook his radiant head in warning. "I have
spoken rashly," said he; "this only request I would fain deny. I
beg you to withdraw it. It is not a safe boon, nor one, my
Phaeton, suited to your youth and strength, Your lot is mortal,
and you ask what is beyond a mortal's power. In your ignorance
you aspire to do that which not even the gods themselves may do.
None but myself may drive the flaming car of day. Not even
Jupiter, whose terrible right arm hurls the thunderbolts. The
first part of the way is steep, and such as the horses when
fresh in the morning can hardly climb; the middle is high up in
the heavens, whence I myself can scarcely, without alarm, look
down and behold the earth and sea stretched beneath me. The last
part of the road descends rapidly, and requires most careful
driving. Tethys, who is waiting to receive me, often trembles
for me lest I should fall headlong. Add to all this, the heaven
is all the time turning round and carrying the stars with it. I
have to be perpetually on my guard lest that movement, which
sweeps everything else along, should hurry me also away. Suppose
I should lend you the chariot, what would you do? Could you keep
your course while the sphere was revolving under you? Perhaps
you think that there are forests and cities, the abodes of gods,
and palaces and temples on the way. On the contrary, the road is
through the midst of frightful monsters. You pass by the horns
of the Bull, in front of the Archer, and near the Lion's jaws,
and where the Scorpion stretches its arms in one direction and
the Crab in another. Nor will you find it easy to guide those
horses, with their breasts full of fire that they breathe forth
from their mouths and nostrils. I can scarcely govern them
myself, when they are unruly and resist the reins. Beware, my
son, lest I be the donor of a fatal gift; recall your request
while yet you may. Do you ask me for a proof that you are sprung
from my blood? I give you a proof in my fears for you. Look at
my face- I would that you could look into my breast, you would
there see all a father's anxiety. Finally," he continued, "look
round the world and choose whatever you will of what earth or
sea contains most precious- ask it and fear no refusal. This
only I pray you not to urge. It is not honour, but destruction
you seek. Why do you hang round my neck and still entreat me?
You shall have it if you persist,- the oath is sworn and must be
kept,- but I beg you to choose more wisely."
He ended; but the youth rejected all admonition and held to
his demand. So, having resisted as long as he could, Phoebus at
last led the way to where stood the lofty chariot.
It was of gold, the gift of Vulcan; the axle was of gold, the
pole and wheels of gold, the spokes of silver. Along the seat
were rows of chrysolites and diamonds which reflected all around
the brightness of the sun. While the daring youth gazed in
admiration, the early Dawn threw open the purple doors of the
east, and showed the pathway strewn with roses. The stars
withdrew, marshalled by the Day-star, which last of all retired
also. The father, when he saw the earth beginning to glow, and
the Moon preparing to retire, ordered the Hours to harness up
the horses. They obeyed, and led forth from the lofty stalls the
Steeds full fed with ambrosia, and attached the reins. Then the
father bathed the face of his son with a powerful unguent, and
made him capable of enduring the brightness of the flame. He set
the rays on his head, and, with a foreboding sigh, said, "If, my
son, you will in this at least heed my advice, spare the whip
and hold tight the reins. They go fast enough of their own
accord; the labour is to hold them in. You are not to take the
straight road directly between the five circles, but turn off to
the left. Keep within the limit of the middle zone, and avoid
the northern and the southern alike. You will see the marks of
the northern and the southern alike. You will see the marks of
the wheels, and they will serve to guide you. And, that the
skies and the earth may each receive their due share of heat, go
not too high, or you will burn the heavenly dwellings, nor too
low, or you will set the earth on fire; the middle course is
safest and best.* And now I leave you to your chance, which I
hope will plan better for you than you have done for yourself.
Night is passing out of the western gates and we can delay no
longer. Take the reins; but if at last your heart fails you, and
you will benefit by my advice, stay where you are in safety, and
suffer me to light and warm the earth." The agile youth, sprang
into the chariot, stood erect, and grasped the reins with
delight pouring out thanks to his reluctant parent.
Meanwhile the horses fill the air with their snortings and
fiery breath, and stamp the ground impatient. Now the bars are
let down, and the boundless plain of the universe lies open
before them. They dart forward and cleave the opposing clouds,
and outrun the morning breezes which started from the same
eastern goal. The steeds soon perceived that the load they drew
was lighter than usual; and as a ship without ballast is tossed
hither and thither on the sea, so the chariot, without its
accustomed weight, was dashed about as if empty. They rush
headlong and leave the travelled road. He is alarmed, and knows
not how to guide them; nor, if he knew, has he the power. Then,
for the first time, the Great and Little Bear were scorched with
heat, and would fain, if it were possible, have plunged into the
water; and the Serpent which lies coiled up round the north
pole, torpid and harmless, grew warm, and with warmth felt its
rage revive. Bootes, they say, fled away, though encumbered with
his plough, and all unused to rapid motion.
When hapless Phaethon looked down upon the earth, now
spreading in vast extent beneath him, he grew pale and his knees
shook with terror. In spite of the glare all around him, the
sight of his eyes grew dim. He wished he had never touched his
father's horses, never learned his parentage, never prevailed in
his request. He is borne along like a vessel that flies before a
tempest, when the pilot can do no more and betakes himself to
his prayers. What shall he do? Much of the heavenly road is left
behind, but more remains before. He turns his eyes from one
direction to the other; now to the goal whence he began his
course, now to the realms of sunset which he is not destined to
reach. He loses his self-command, and knows not what to do,-
whether to draw tight the reins or throw them loose; he forgets
the names of the horses. He sees with terror the monstrous forms
scattered over the surface of heaven. Here the Scorpion extended
his two great arms, with his tail and crooked claws stretching
over two signs of the zodiac. When the boy beheld him, reeking
with poison and menacing with his fangs, his course failed, and
the reins fell from his hands. The horses, when they felt them
loose on their backs, dashed headlong, and unrestrained went off
into unknown regions of the sky, in among the stars, hurling the
chariot over pathless places, now up in high heaven, now down
almost to the earth. The moon saw with astonishment her
brother's chariot running beneath her own. The clouds begin to
smoke, and the mountain tops take fire; the fields are parched
with heat, the plants wither, the trees with their leafy
branches burn, the harvest is ablaze! But these are small
things. Great cities perished, with their walls and towers;
whole nations with their people were consumed to ashes! The
forest-clad mountains burned, Athos and Taurus and Tmolus and
OEte; Ida, once celebrated for fountains, but now all dry; the
Muses' mountain Helicon, and Haemus; AEtna, with fires within
and without, and Parnassus, with his two peaks, and Rhodope,
forced at last to part with his snowy crown. Her cold climate
was no protection to Scythia, Caucasus burned, and Ossa and
Pindus, and, greater than both, Olympus; the Alps high in air,
and the Apennines crowned with clouds.
Then Phaeton beheld the world on fire, and felt the heat
intolerable. The air he breathed was like the air of a furnace
and full of burning ashes, and the smoke was of a pitchy
darkness. He dashed forward he knew not whither. Then, it is
believed, the people of AEthiopia became black by the blood
being forced so suddenly to the surface, and the Libyan desert
was dried up to the condition in which it remains to this day.
The Nymphs of the fountains, with dishevelled hair, mourned
their waters, nor were the rivers safe beneath their banks:
Tanais smoked, and Caicus, Xanthus, and Meander; Babylonian
Euphrates and Ganges, Tagus with golden sands, and Cayster where
the swans resort. Nile fled away and hid his head in the desert,
and there it still remains concealed. Where he used to discharge
his waters through seven mouths into the sea, there seven dry
channels alone remained. The earth cracked open, and through the
chinks light broke into Tartarus, and frightened the king of
shadows and his queen. The sea shrank up. Where here before was
water, it became a dry plain; and the mountains that lie beneath
the waves lifted up their heads and became islands. The fishes
sought the lowest depths, and the dolphins no longer ventured as
usual to sport on the surface. Even Nereus, and his wife
Doris,
with the Nereids, their daughters, sought the deepest caves for
refuge. Thrice
Neptune essayed to raise his head above the
surface, and thrice was driven back by the heat. Earth,
surrounded as she was by waters, yet with head and shoulders
bare, screening her face with her hand, looked up to heaven, and
with a husky voice called on Jupiter:
"O ruler of the gods, if I have deserved this treatment, and
it is your will that I perish with fire, why withhold your
thunderbolts? Let me at least fall by your hand. Is this the
reward of my fertility, of my obedient service? Is it for this
that I have supplied herbage for cattle, and fruits for men, and
frankincense for your altars? But if I am unworthy of regard,
what has my brother Ocean done to deserve such a fate? If
neither of us can excite your pity, think, I pray you, of your
own heaven, and behold how both the poles are smoking which
sustain your palace, which must fall if they be destroyed. Atlas
faints, and scarce holds up his burden. If sea, earth, and
heaven perish, we fall into ancient Chaos. Save what yet remains
to us from the devouring flame. O, take thought for our
deliverance in this awful moment!"
Thus spoke Earth, and overcome with heat and thirst, could
say no more. Then
Jupiter omnipotent, calling to witness all the
gods, including him who had lent the chariot, and showing them
that all was lost unless some speedy remedy were applied,
mounted the lofty tower from whence he diffuses clouds over the
earth, and hurls the forked lightnings. But at that time not a
cloud was to be found to interpose for a screen to earth, nor
was a shower remaining unexhausted. He thundered, and
brandishing a lightning bolt in his right hand launched it
against the charioteer, and struck him at the same moment from
his seat and from existence! Phaeton, with his hair on fire,
fell headlong, like a shooting star which marks the heavens with
its brightness as it falls, and Eridanus, the great river,
received him and cooled his burning frame.* The Italian Naiads
reared a tomb for him, and inscribed these words upon the stone:
"Driver of Phoebus' chariot, Phaeton,
Struck by Jove's thunder, rests beneath this stone.
He could not rule his father's car of fire,
Yet was it much so nobly to aspire."
His sisters, the Heliades, as they lamented his fate, were
turned into poplar trees, on the banks of the river, and their
tears, which continued to flow, became amber as they dropped
into the stream.
Milman, in his poem of "Samor," makes the following allusion
to Phaeton's story:
"As when the palsied universe aghast
Lay... mute and still,
When drove, so poets sing, the Sun-born youth
Devious through Heaven's affrighted signs his sire's
Ill-granted chariot. Him the Thunderer hurled
From th' empyrean headlong to the gulf
Of thee half-parched Eridanus, where weep
Even now the sister trees their amber tears
O'er Phaeton untimely dead."
In the beautiful lines of Walter Savage Landor, descriptive
of the Sea-shell, there is an allusion to the Sun's palace and
chariot. The water-nymph says:
"...I have sinuous shells of pearly hue
Within, and things that lustre have imbibed
In the sun's palace porch, where when unyoked
His chariot wheel stands midway on the wave.
Shake one and it awakens; then apply
Its polished lip to your attentive ear,
And it remembers its august abodes,
And murmurs as the ocean murmurs there."
Gebir, Book 1.
