T H E S E U S.
"Aye, this is he,
A proud and mighty spirit: how fine his form,
Gigantic! moulded like the race that strove
To take Jove's heaven by storm, and scare him from
Olympus. There he sits, a demi-god,
Stern as when he of yore forsook the maid
Who, doating saved him from the Cretan toil,
Where he had slain the Minotaur. Alas!
Fond Ariadne, thee did he desert,
And heartless left thee on the Naiad's shore
To languish. This is he who dared to roam
The world infernal, and on Pluto's queen,
Ceres' own lost Prosperina, did lay
His hand: thence was he prisoned in the vaults
Beneath, 'till freed by Hercules. Methinks
(So perfect is the Phidian stone) his sire,
The sea god Neptune, hath in anger stopped
The current of life, and with his trident touch
Hath struck him into marble."
Barry Cornwall.
This hero, one of the most celebrated of antiquity, was the son of Ægeus, by Æthra, daughter of Pittheus, though not publicly acknowledged to be the King of Athens, being educated at Træzene, in the house of Pittheus. When he came to maturity, he was sent by his mother to Ægeus, and a sword which had been hidden beneath a stone until he became of age, and by which he was to
make himself known to his parent, was shown to him, and ordered to be taken. The usual journey for travellers to his father's court, at Athens, was by sea, but Theseus determined to signalise himself by encountering the dangers which attended the journey on land, and which consisted in robbers and wild beasts, rendering the road almost impassable: however, these obstacles were all met, and destroyed by his courage. He arrived at Athens in safety, where his reception was not so cordial as he hoped, for Medea, who resided with Ægeus, felt that her influence with this monarch would be destroyed, if once Theseus gained his proper footing in his father's house, and she tried to poison him before his return was known to the Athenians. With a refinement of cruelty, she endeavoured to make Ægeus give a cup of poison to him, as an unknown stranger at a feast; but the sword at his side saved Theseus, for his father recognised it, and introduced him to the people of Athens as his son, all of whom gladly hailed the illustrious man, who had cleansed them of robbers and pirates, as the offspring of their monarch.
The Pallantides, however, who expected to succeed their uncle on his throne, were enraged at the reception of Theseus, and attempted to assassinate him; their barbarous intent recoiled upon themselves, for they were all slain by young Theseus.
The bull of Marathon which ravaged the neighbouring country, next engaged his attention, and taking the animal alive, he led it through the streets of Athens, previously to sacrificing it on the altar of Minerva.
At this time, the Minotaur was receiving the annual tribute of seven of the noblest youth of Athens, and Theseus could not fail of being ranked among them, to be devoured by the monster.
——————"The Minotaur was fed,
With human victims for Androgeos dead.
The flower of Athens were compelled to bleed,
For thus the cruel oracle decreed,
Till Theseus; to preserve his country's blood,
Himself devoted for the public good."
Ovid.
The wish to deliver his native land from this danger, induced him voluntarily to undertake the expedition; and before his departure, he promised his father, if he should be successful, to hoist a white sail on his return.
Ariadne, the daughter of Minos, became enamoured of him and by
assisting him in the enterprise, he was successful and killed the Minotaur.
On his return from his victory there, he was driven by contrary winds on the Isle of Naxos, where he had the meanness to desert Ariadne, whose conduct had been the means of his glorious triumph, and to whom he was even indebted for his life.
When he came in sight of Athens, he forgot, in the height of his success, to hoist the white sail he had promised his father, who, seeing a black sail upon his son's ship, despairingly threw himself into the sea.
"On a high rock that beetles o'er the flood,
With daily care the pensive father stood;
And when he saw impatient from afar?
The fatal signal floating in the air,
Thinking his Theseus was untimely slain,
He rashly plunged himself beneath the main!"
His ascension to his father's throne was received with much pleasure, the country was governed with mildness, new reputation acquired and new laws enacted.
The renown he gained by his victory and policy, made his alliance courted in general; but Pirithous king of the Lapithæ, sought the more singular mode of gaining it by meeting him in fight.
He invaded the territories of Theseus, and when the latter assembled his forces to meet him, the two foes as they gazed on each other, were seized with a sudden and mutual friendship, and rushed into each others arms: from that time, their affection became proverbial.
Theseus was present at the nuptials of his friend, and when the brutal Centaurs attempted to insult the bride, was one of the most forward to defend: and when Pirithous, after this, had lost Hippodamia, he agreed with Theseus to carry away one of the daughters of the gods.
They first attempted their scheme upon Helen, the beautiful daughter of Leda, and when they had obtained their victim, cast lots for her: Theseus was successful, and she became his prize. Shortly after, he assisted his friend in his attempt to descend into the infernal regions and carry away Proserpine, but Cerberus was too watchful, and Pluto apprised of their intentions, stopped them: Pirithous was placed on Ixion's wheel, and Theseus secured to a large stone on which he had seated himself to rest.
By the assistance of Hercules, however, in his descent into hell, the two heroes were released from their captivity, and when Theseus returned to Athens, he found that Mnestheus had usurped the crown which should have fallen upon his children. In vain did Theseus attempt to eject the usurper, the Athenians remained faithful to their new choice, and Theseus retired in disgust to the court of Lycomedes, King of Scyros.
Here he met with apparent sympathy, but Lycomedes soon showed his true character, for enticing his guest to the top of a high mountain, he took an opportunity of throwing Theseus over a deep precipice.
The children of this hero at the death of the usurper, regained the throne of Athens: and that the memory of their father might not be without honour, sent for his remains from Scyros, and gave them a magnificent burial.
They also raised to him statues and a temple; festivals and games were also instituted in his honour, to commemorate the actions of a hero who had rendered such signal services to the Athenian people.
Leonarde. "'Tis one of those bright fictions that have made
The name of Greece only another word,
For love and poetry: with a green earth,
Groves of the graceful myrtle, summer skies,
Whose stars are mirrored in ten thousand streams,
With winds that move in perfume and in music,
And more than all, the gift of woman's beauty.
What marvel that the earth, the sky, the sea,
Were filled with all those fine imaginings
That love creates, and that the lyre preserves!
Alvine. But for the history of that pale girl
Who stands so desolate on the sea-shore?
Leonarde. She was the daughter of a Cretan king—
A Tyrant. Hidden in the dark recess
Of a wide labyrinth, a monster dwelt,
And every year was human tribute paid
By the Athenians. They had bowed in war;
And every spring the flowers of all the city,
Young maids in their first beauty, stately youths,
Were sacrificed to the fierce king! They died
In the unfathomable den of want,
Or served the Minotaur for food. At length
There came a royal youth, who vowed to slay
The monster or to perish! Look, Alvine,
That statue is young Theseus!
Alvine. Glorious!
How like a god he stands, one haughty hand
Raised in defiance! I have often looked
Upon the marble, wondering it could give
Such truth to life and majesty.
Leonarde. You will not marvel Ariadne loved.
She gave the secret clue that led him safe
Throughout the labyrinth, and she fled with him.
Alvine. Ah! now I know your tale: he proved untrue—
This ever has been woman's fate, to love,
To know one summer day of happiness,
And then to be most wretched!
Leonarde. She was left
By her so heartless lover while she slept.
She woke from pleasant dreams—she dreamt of him—
Love's power is left in slumber—woke and found
Herself deserted on the lonely shore.
The bark of the false Theseus was a speck
Scarce seen upon the waters, less and less,
Like hope diminishing, till wholly past.
I will not say, for you can fancy well,
Her desolate feelings as she roamed the beach,
Hurled from the highest heaven of happy love!
But evening crimsoned the blue sea, a sound
Of music and of mirth, came on the wind,
And radiant shapes and laughing nymphs danced by,
And he the Theban god, looked on the maid,
And looked and loved, and was beloved again.
He has just flung her starry crown on high,
And bade it there, a long memorial shine,
How a god loved a mortal—He is springing
From out his golden car, another bound,
Bacchus is by his Ariadne's side."
L. E. L.
Theseus married Phædra, daughter of Minos, sister of the unfortunate Ariadne whom he had left to perish. Phædra, however, unhappily, felt a guilty love for Hippolytus, son of Theseus by a previous union. Venus, having a dislike to Minos, the father of Phædra, sent Cupid to pierce her with his shafts.
For a long time she struggled with the pangs which raged within her, but they grew too fierce to be endured, and she revealed to him her love.
Phæ. "'My lord, 'tis said you soon will part from us.
Hip. Madam!
Phæ. I pray you do not leave us!
Hip. My duty, lady!—
Phæ. Would that that duty, were in pleasing me;
Hip. To please you, lady, were my highest wish,
To gain your love, my highest privilege.
Phæ. To gain my love?
Hip. Aye, madam!
Phæ. Hippolytus! the fearful truth will out,
My love is gained!
Hip. I hope, indeed so,—as a mother.
Phæ. aside—(How coldly doth he speak, while thro' my veins
The hot blood bounds in fierce convulsive starts.)
Not as a mother do I love thee,
But—as a woman—now my breast is free
Of the stern secret which so long hath burned
And given a fever to my very looks.
Hip. Madam! I do not understand you;
Phæ. You must! fierce, burning love is mine,
For you, Hippolytus, the son of Theseus!
Hip. And you his wife?
Phæ. Aye, boy, 'tis even so;
Nay, look not so:—I say Hippolytus,
That from the very hour I saw, I loved thee;
That from the very moment that thy voice
Rang in my ears, it entered in my heart,
That from the hour I was Theseus' wife,
Even at the altar, where my plight was vowed,
My thoughts were all of thee. Speak, speak, and say
Thou dost not hate me.
Hip. Some sudden frenzy hath upset thy brain—
Thou knowest not what thou speakest.
Phæ. I am not mad! would to the gods I were—
Think not that I have yielded willingly,
Unto the passion which I now avow,
Daily, and hourly, have I striven against it:
And night by night, when visions and when dreams
Pressed on my brain in many a confused shape,
All bearing one image, and that image thine,
I have striven, wrestled, fought against this love,
But all in vain.
Hip. I scarcely dare believe mine ears, a dream
Seems on me, like a man in sleep,
A mass of dim confusion gathers round me;
Am I indeed Hippolytus, and art thou Phædra?
Phæ. I am thy Phædra! Theseus has my hand,
But thou, Hippolytus, thou hast my heart.
Hip. Theseus—my father—
Phæ. Thy father and my husband, what of that?
Love knows no ties save those he makes himself,
Speak to me—
Say that I yet may hope to lay my head
On that dear bosom, say thou wilt not spurn
The heart that rests its only hope on thee.
Say, or, but look, a clear return of love,
And I will fall upon my knees adoring thee!
Hip. Madam, I would not, could not wrong my father;
And thou, how canst thou meet his face?
Shame, shame, upon the wanton love that leaves
The marriage bed, even were it but in thought:
And thou above thy compeers raised afar,
In that thy name is mated with my father's,
Shouldst pray the gods to scourge this passion from thee.
Phæ. Oh! by thine hopes of heaven I pray thee peace!
Hip. Peace, thou! adultress! peace, thou, shameless one,
Away, lest I should change a husband's love,
Into a husband's hate.
Phæ. Thou canst not do it!
Hip. What if I did proclaim to him thy guilt?
What if I said—father! thy wife, my mother,
Hath offered me the love due but to thee,
Hath with a shameless love, and wanton's insolence,
Deemed she could win me to her bed—
Woman, I tell thee—
Phæ. And I tell thee, that he would not believe thee.
Yet—say it not, Hippolytus! for I
Do love thee as—
Hip. I'll hear no more!
Mother! I leave thee, and I pray the gods
To visit not on thee, this awful crime!'"
Racine.
Fearful lest Hippolytus should betray her, when she found he would not return her sinful passion, Phædra accused his son to Theseus of the very crime of which she had herself been guilty, and excited the father's ire against his son in a terrible degree.
The. "'Dost thou dare look upon me boy?
Hip. My father?
The. Dost see this sword?
Hip. Aye!
The. Dost dread it?
Hip. No; the innocent have nought to fear;
The. Now by my crown, this is most base effrontery,
But 'tis in vain, thy mother hath told all,
Hath told how, with an impious love, thy heart
Hath turned to her's; how with an impure lip,
Thy words have pierced her to the soul.
Hip. And dost thou doubt me father?
The. Perfidious wretch! can'st stand before me thus?
Monster too long escaped Jove's fearful thunder,
After a love filled with an awful horror
And transports of affection fiercely urged,
That would pollute thy father's marriage bed,
Thou darest present to me thy traitor brow,
And vow thine innocence.
Away from these scenes of thine infamy,
Away and seek beneath a sky unknown,
A land where Theseus' name hath never sounded;
Fly, traitor! brave no longer here, my hate!
Within a court that I shall hold with dread,
For ever will the curse cling to my name,
And endless infamy my memory,
That, having given birth to one so shameless,
I dared not take the life I gave to him!
Wretch that thou art, dost thou not answer me?
Hip. Sire, I am not the wretch that thou would'st make me.
Horror—astonishment—have kept me silent—
The. Darest thou add falsehood to thine infamy?
Hip. Thy words are most unjust!
The. And there thou standest with a brow as calm
As innocence itself.
Hip. In this I am most innocent!—
Nay, interrupt me not, for I will speak—
Thou hast accused me of an awful crime,
Thou hast accursed me with a father's curse,
And I must vindicate myself or die?
Phædra, my mother, and thy wife, avowed
In accents shameless as the wish she breathed,
A most incestuous passion for my person:
With fierce disdain I spurned her offered love,
Implored her to remember that I stood
Before her as thy son, and did entreat her
To come back to the straight path of her duty.
The. And dost thou think that thou canst thus deceive me?
Away, away, no more pollute my court;
Wert thou not called my son, thy time were short.'"
Racine.
Banished thus from the court of his father, the only consolation for a long time that Hippolytus possessed, was the consciousness of innocence. Remorse, however, at last preyed upon the bosom of Phædra; after taking poison she confessed to Theseus the crime of which she had been guilty, and Hippolytus was restored to the affections of his father.
The name of Theseus had been rendered by his bravery so conspicuous and so dreaded by his enemies, that a tradition became popular, to the effect that he appeared at the battle of Marathon to fight for the Greeks, who seemed likely to be overwhelmed by the numbers of their opponents.
"Know ye not when our dead
From sleep to battle sprung?
When the Persian charger's tread
On their covering greensward rung!
When the trampling march of foes
Had crushed our vines and flowers,
When jewelled crests arose
Through the holy laurel bowers,
When banners caught the breeze,
When helms in sunlight shone,
When masts were on the seas,
And spears in Marathon.
"There was one a leader crowned,
And armed for Greece that day;
But the falchions made no sound
On his gleaming war array.
In the battle's front he stood,
With his tall and shadowy crest;
But the arrows drew no blood,
Though their path was thro' his breast.
When banners caught the breeze, &c.
"His sword was seen to flash
Where the boldest deeds were done;
But it smote without a clash;
The stroke was heard by none!
His voice was not of those
That swelled the rolling blast,
And his steps fell hushed like snows,—
'Twas the shade of Theseus passed!
When banners caught the breeze, &c.
"Far sweeping thro' the foe,
With a furious charge he bore,
And the Mede left many a bow
On the sounding ocean shore,
And the foaming waves grew red,
And the sails were crowded fast,
When the sons of Asia fled
As the shade of Theseus passed!
When banners caught the breeze,
When helms in sunlight shone,
When masts were on the seas,
And spears in Marathon!"
Hemans.
