PHOEBUS (APOLLO)

PHŒBUS-APOLLO.

Phœbus-Apollo, the god of Light, Prophecy, Music, Poetry, and
the Arts and Sciences, is by far the noblest conception within the whole
range of Greek mythology, and his worship, which not only extended to all
the states of Greece, but also to Asia Minor and to every Greek colony
throughout the world, stands out among the most ancient and
strongly-marked features of Grecian history, and exerted a more decided
influence over the Greek nation, than that of any other deity, not
excepting Zeus himself.

Apollo was the son of Zeus and Leto, and was born beneath the shade of
a palm tree which grew at the foot [69]of Mount Cynthus, on the
barren and rocky island of Delos. The poets tell us that the earth smiled
when the young god first beheld the light of day, and that Delos became
so proud and exultant at the honour thus conferred upon her, that she
covered herself with golden flowers; swans surrounded the island, and the
Delian nymphs celebrated his birth with songs of joy.

The unhappy Leto, driven to Delos by the relentless persecutions of
Hera, was not long permitted to enjoy her haven of refuge. Being still
tormented by her enemy, the young mother was once more obliged to fly;
she therefore resigned the charge of her new-born babe to the goddess
Themis, who carefully wrapped the helpless infant in swaddling-clothes,
and fed him with nectar and ambrosia; but he had no sooner partaken of
the heavenly food than, to the amazement of the goddess, he burst asunder
the bands which confined his infant limbs, and springing to his feet,
appeared before her as a full-grown youth of divine strength and beauty.
He now demanded a lyre and a bow, declaring that henceforth he would
announce to mankind the will of his father Zeus. “The golden lyre,” said
he, “shall be my friend, the bent bow my delight, and in oracles will I
foretell the dark future.” With these words he ascended to Olympus, where
he was received with joyful acclamations into the assembly of the
celestial gods, who acknowledged him as the most beautiful and glorious
of all the sons of Zeus.

Phœbus-Apollo was the god of light in a twofold [70]signification:
first, as representing the great orb of day which illumines the world;
and secondly, as the heavenly light which animates the soul of man. He
inherited his function as sun-god from Helios, with whom, in later times,
he was so completely identified, that the personality of the one became
gradually merged in that of the other. We, accordingly, find Helios
frequently confounded with Apollo, myths belonging to the former
attributed to the latter; and with some tribes—the Ionic, for
instance—so complete is this identification, that Apollo is called
by them Helios-Apollo.

As the divinity whose power is developed in the broad light of day, he
brings joy and delight to nature, and health and prosperity to man. By
the influence of his warm and gentle rays he disperses the noxious
vapours of the night, assists the grain to ripen and the flowers to
bloom.

But although, as god of the sun, he is a life-giving and
life-preserving power, who, by his genial influence, dispels the cold of
winter, he is, at the same time, the god who, by means of his fiercely
darting rays, could spread disease and send sudden death to men and
animals; and it is to this phase of his character that we must look for
the explanation of his being considered, in conjunction with his
twin-sister, Artemis (as moon-goddess), a divinity of death. The brother
and sister share this function between them, he taking man and she woman
as her aim, and those especially who died in the bloom of youth, or at an
advanced age, were believed to have been killed by their gentle arrows.
But Apollo did not always send an easy death. We see in the Iliad
how, when angry with the Greeks, the “god of the silver bow” strode down
from Olympus, with his quiver full of death-bringing darts, and sent a
raging pestilence into their camp. For nine days he let fly his fatal
arrows, first on animals and then on men, till the air became darkened
with the smoke from the funeral pyres.

In his character as god of light, Phœbus-Apollo is the
protecting deity of shepherds, because it is he who warms [71]the fields and
meadows, and gives rich pastures to the flocks, thereby gladdening the
heart of the herdsman.

As the temperate heat of the sun exercises so invigorating an effect
on man and animals, and promotes the growth of those medicinal herbs and
vegetable productions necessary for the cure of diseases,
Phœbus-Apollo was supposed to possess the power of restoring life
and health; hence he was regarded as the god of healing; but this feature
in his character we shall find more particularly developed in his son
Asclepius (Æsculapius), the veritable god of the healing art.

Pursuing our analysis of the various phases in the character of
Phœbus-Apollo, we find that with the first beams of his genial
light, all nature awakens to renewed life, and the woods re-echo with the
jubilant sound of the untaught lays, warbled by thousands of feathered
choristers. Hence, by a natural inference, he is the god of music, and
as, according to the belief of the ancients, the inspirations of genius
were inseparably connected with the glorious light of heaven, he is also
the god of poetry, and acts as the special patron of the arts and
sciences. Apollo is himself the heavenly musician among the Olympic gods,
whose banquets are gladdened by the wondrous strains which he produces
from his favourite instrument, the seven-stringed lyre. In the cultus of
Apollo, music formed a distinguishing feature. All sacred dances, and
even the sacrifices in his honour, were performed to the sound of musical
instruments; and it is, in a great measure, owing to the influence which
the music in his worship exercised on the Greek nation, that Apollo came
to be regarded as the leader of the nine Muses, the legitimate divinities
of poetry and song. In this character he is called Musagetes, and is
always represented robed in a long flowing garment; his lyre, to the
tones of which he appears to be singing, is suspended by a band across
the chest; his head is encircled by a wreath of laurel, and his long
hair, streaming down over his shoulders, gives him a somewhat effeminate
appearance.

And now we must view the glorious god of light under [72]another, and (as
far as regards his influence over the Greek nation) a much more important
aspect; for, in historical times, all the other functions and attributes
of Apollo sink into comparative insignificance before the great power
which he exercised as god of prophecy. It is true that all Greek gods
were endowed, to a certain extent, with the faculty of foretelling future
events; but Apollo, as sun-god, was the concentration of all prophetic
power, as it was supposed that nothing escaped his all-seeing eye, which
penetrated the most hidden recesses, and laid bare the secrets which lay
concealed behind the dark veil of the future.

We have seen that when Apollo assumed his god-like form, he took his
place among the immortals; but he had not long enjoyed the rapturous
delights of Olympus, before he felt within him an ardent desire to fulfil
his great mission of interpreting to mankind the will of his mighty
father. He accordingly descended to earth, and travelled through many
countries, seeking a fitting site upon which to establish an oracle. At
length he reached the southern side of the rocky heights of Parnassus,
beneath which lay the harbour of Crissa. Here, under the overhanging
cliff, he found a secluded spot, where, from the most ancient times,
there had existed an oracle, in which Gæa herself had revealed the future
to man, and which, in Deucalion’s time, she had resigned to Themis. It
was guarded by the huge serpent Python, the scourge of the surrounding
neighbourhood, and the terror alike of men and cattle. The young god,
full of confidence in his unerring aim, attacked and slew the monster
with his arrows, thus freeing land and people from their mighty
enemy.

The grateful inhabitants, anxious to do honour to their deliverer,
flocked round Apollo, who proceeded to mark out a plan for a temple, and,
with the assistance of numbers of eager volunteers, a suitable edifice
was soon erected. It now became necessary to choose ministers, who would
offer up sacrifices, interpret his prophecies to the people, and take
charge of the temple. Looking round, he saw in the far distance a vessel
bound from Crete to the [73]Peloponnesus, and determined to avail
himself of her crew for his service. Assuming the shape of an enormous
dolphin, he agitated the waters to such a degree, that the ship was
tossed violently to and fro, to the great alarm of the mariners; at the
same time he raised a mighty wind, which drove the ship into the harbour
of Crissa, where she ran aground. The terrified sailors dared not set
foot on shore; but Apollo, under the form of a vigorous youth, stepped
down to the vessel, revealed himself in his true character, and informed
them that it was he who had driven them to Crissa, in order that they
might become his priests, and serve him in his temple. Arrived at the
sacred fane, he instructed them how to perform the services in his
honour, and desired them to worship him under the name of
Apollo-Delphinios, because he had first appeared to them under the form
of a dolphin. Thus was established the far-famed oracle of Delphi, the
only institution of the kind which was not exclusively national, for it
was consulted by Lydians, Phrygians, Etruscans, Romans, &c., and, in
fact, was held in the highest repute all over the world. In obedience to
its decrees, the laws of Lycurgus were introduced, and the earliest Greek
colonies founded. No cities were built without first consulting the
Delphic oracle, for it was believed that Apollo took special delight in
the founding of cities, the first stone of which he laid in person; nor
was any enterprise ever undertaken, without inquiring at this sacred fane
as to its probable success.

But that which brought Apollo more closely home to the hearts of the
people, and raised the whole moral tone of the Greek nation, was the
belief, gradually developed with the intelligence of the people, that he
was the god who accepted repentance as an atonement for sin, who pardoned
the contrite sinner, and who acted as the special protector of those,
who, like Orestes, had committed a crime, which required long years of
expiation.

Apollo is represented by the poets as being eternally young; his
countenance, glowing with joyous life, is the embodiment of immortal
beauty; his eyes are of a deep [74]blue; his forehead low, but broad and
intellectual; his hair, which falls over his shoulders in long waving
locks, is of a golden, or warm chestnut hue. He is crowned with laurel,
and wears a purple robe; in his hand he bears his silver bow, which is
unbent when he smiles, but ready for use when he menaces evil-doers.

But Apollo, the eternally beautiful youth, the perfection of all that
is graceful and refined, rarely seems to have been happy in his love;
either his advances met with a repulse, or his union with the object of
his affection was attended with fatal consequences.

His first love was Daphne (daughter of Peneus, the river-god), who was
so averse to marriage that she entreated her father to allow her to lead
a life of celibacy, and devote herself to the chase, which she loved to
the exclusion of all other pursuits. But one day, soon after his victory
over the Python, Apollo happened to see Eros bending his bow, and proud
of his own superior strength and skill, he laughed at the efforts of the
little archer, saying that such a weapon was more suited to the one who
had just killed the terrible serpent. Eros angrily replied that his arrow
should pierce the heart of the mocker himself, and flying off to the
summit of Mount Parnassus, he drew from his quiver two darts of different
workmanship—one of gold, which had the effect of inspiring love;
the other of lead, which created aversion. Taking aim at Apollo, he
pierced his breast with the golden shaft, whilst the leaden one he
discharged into the bosom of the beautiful Daphne. The son of Leto
instantly felt the most ardent affection for the nymph, who, on her part,
evinced the greatest dislike towards her divine lover, and, at his
approach, fled from him like a hunted deer. He called upon her in the
most endearing accents to stay, but she still sped on, until at length,
becoming faint with fatigue, and fearing that she was about to succumb,
she called upon the gods to come to her aid. Hardly had she uttered her
prayer before a heavy torpor seized her limbs, and just as Apollo threw
out his arms to embrace her, she became transformed [75]into a laurel-bush. He
sorrowfully crowned his head with its leaves, and declared, that in
memory of his love, it should henceforth remain evergreen, and be held
sacred to him.

He next sought the love of Marpessa, the daughter of Evenus; but
though her father approved his suit, the maiden preferred a youth named
Idas, who contrived to carry her off in a winged chariot which he had
procured from Poseidon. Apollo pursued the fugitives, whom he quickly
overtook, and forcibly seizing the bride, refused to resign her. Zeus
then interfered, and declared that Marpessa herself must decide which of
her lovers should claim her as his wife. After due reflection she
accepted Idas as her husband, judiciously concluding that although the
attractions of the divine Apollo were superior to those of her lover, it
would be wiser to unite herself to a mortal, who, growing old with
herself, would be less likely to forsake her, when advancing years should
rob her of her charms.

Cassandra, daughter of Priam, king of Troy, was another object of the
love of Apollo. She feigned to return his affection, and promised to
marry him, provided he would confer upon her the gift of prophecy; but
having received the boon she desired, the treacherous maiden refused to
comply with the conditions upon which it had been granted. Incensed at
her breach of faith, Apollo, unable to recall the gift he had bestowed,
rendered it useless by causing her predictions to fail in obtaining
credence. Cassandra became famous in history for her prophetic powers,
but her prophecies were never believed. For instance, she warned her
brother Paris that if he brought back a wife from Greece he would cause
the destruction of his father’s house and kingdom; she also warned the
Trojans not to admit the wooden horse within the walls of the city, and
foretold to Agamemnon all the disasters which afterwards befell him.

Apollo afterwards married Coronis, a nymph of Larissa, and thought
himself happy in the possession of her faithful love; but once more he
was doomed to [76]disappointment, for one day his favourite
bird, the crow, flew to him with the intelligence that his wife had
transferred her affections to a youth of Haemonia. Apollo, burning with
rage, instantly destroyed her with one of his death-bringing darts. Too
late he repented of his rashness, for she had been tenderly beloved by
him, and he would fain have recalled her to life; but, although he
exerted all his healing powers, his efforts were in vain. He punished the
crow for its garrulity by changing the colour of its plumage from pure
white to intense black, and forbade it to fly any longer among the other
birds.

Coronis left an infant son named Asclepius, who afterwards became god
of medicine. His powers were so extraordinary that he could not only cure
the sick, but could even restore the dead to life. At last Aïdes
complained to Zeus that the number of shades conducted to his dominions
was daily decreasing, and the great ruler of Olympus, fearing that
mankind, thus protected against sickness and death, would be able to defy
the gods themselves, killed Asclepius with one of his thunderbolts. The
loss of his highly gifted son so exasperated Apollo that, being unable to
vent his anger on Zeus, he destroyed the Cyclops, who had forged the
fatal thunderbolts. For this offence, Apollo would have been banished by
Zeus to Tartarus, but at the earnest intercession of Leto he partially
relented, and contented himself with depriving him of all power and
dignity, and imposing on him a temporary servitude in the house of
Admetus, king of Thessaly. Apollo faithfully served his royal master for
nine years in the humble capacity of a shepherd, and was treated by him
with every kindness and consideration. During the period of his service
the king sought the hand of Alcestis, the beautiful daughter of Pelias,
son of Poseidon; but her father declared that he would only resign her to
the suitor who should succeed in yoking a lion and a wild boar to his
chariot. By the aid of his divine herdsman, Admetus accomplished this
difficult task, and gained his bride. Nor was this the only favour which
the king received from the exiled god, for Apollo obtained from [77]the Fates the
gift of immortality for his benefactor, on condition that when his last
hour approached, some member of his own family should be willing to die
in his stead. When the fatal hour arrived, and Admetus felt that he was
at the point of death, he implored his aged parents to yield to him their
few remaining days. But “life is sweet” even to old age, and they both
refused to make the sacrifice demanded of them. Alcestis, however, who
had secretly devoted herself to death for her husband, was seized with a
mortal sickness, which kept pace with his rapid recovery. The devoted
wife breathed her last in the arms of Admetus, and he had just consigned
her to the tomb, when Heracles chanced to come to the palace. Admetus
held the rites of hospitality so sacred, that he at first kept silence
with regard to his great bereavement; but as soon as his friend heard
what had occurred, he bravely descended into the tomb, and when death
came to claim his prey, he exerted his marvellous strength, and held him
in his arms, until he promised to restore the beautiful and heroic queen
to the bosom of her family.

Whilst pursuing the peaceful life of a shepherd, Apollo formed a
strong friendship with two youths named Hyacinthus and Cyparissus, but
the great favour shown to them by the god did not suffice to shield them
from misfortune. The former was one day throwing the discus with Apollo,
when, running too eagerly to take up the one thrown by the god, he was
struck on the head with it and killed on the spot. Apollo was overcome
with grief at the sad end of his young favourite, but being unable to
restore him to life, he changed him into the flower called after him the
Hyacinth. Cyparissus had the misfortune to kill by accident one of
Apollo’s favourite stags, which so preyed on his mind that he gradually
pined away, and died of a broken heart. He was transformed by the god
into a cypress-tree, which owes its name to this story.

After these sad occurrences Apollo quitted Thessaly and repaired to
Phrygia, in Asia Minor, where he met Poseidon, who, like himself, was in
exile, and condemned [78]to a temporary servitude on earth. The two
gods now entered the service of Laomedon, king of Troy, Apollo
undertaking to tend his flocks, and Poseidon to build the walls of the
city. But Apollo also contributed his assistance in the erection of those
wonderful walls, and, by the aid of his marvellous musical powers, the
labours of his fellow-worker, Poseidon, were rendered so light and easy
that his otherwise arduous task advanced with astonishing celerity; for,
as the master-hand of the god of music grasped the chords of his lyre,^[30] the huge blocks of stone
moved of their own accord, adjusting themselves with the utmost nicety
into the places designed for them.

But though Apollo was so renowned in the art of music, there were two
individuals who had the effrontery to consider themselves equal to him in
this respect, and, accordingly, each challenged him to compete with them
in a musical contest. These were Marsyas and Pan. Marsyas was a satyr,
who, having picked up the flute which Athene had thrown away in disgust,
discovered, to his great delight and astonishment, that, in consequence
of its having touched the lips of a goddess, it played of itself in the
most charming manner. Marsyas, who was a great lover of music, and much
beloved on this account by all the elf-like denizens of the woods and
glens, was so intoxicated with joy at this discovery, that he foolishly
challenged Apollo to compete with him in a musical contest. The challenge
being accepted, the Muses were chosen umpires, and it was decided that
the unsuccessful candidate should suffer the punishment of being flayed
alive. For a long time the merits of both claimants remained so equally
balanced, that it was impossible to award the palm of victory to either,
seeing which, Apollo, resolved to conquer, added the sweet tones of his
melodious voice to the strains of his lyre, [79]and this at once turned
the scale in his favour. The unhappy Marsyas being defeated, had to
undergo the terrible penalty, and his untimely fate was universally
lamented; indeed the Satyrs and Dryads, his companions, wept so
incessantly at his fate, that their tears, uniting together, formed a
river in Phrygia which is still known by the name of Marsyas.

The result of the contest with Pan was by no means of so serious a
character. The god of shepherds having affirmed that he could play more
skilfully on his flute of seven reeds (the syrinx or Pan’s pipe), than
Apollo on his world-renowned lyre, a contest ensued, in which Apollo was
pronounced the victor by all the judges appointed to decide between the
rival candidates. Midas, king of Phrygia, alone demurred at this
decision, having the bad taste to prefer the uncouth tones of the Pan’s
pipe to the refined melodies of Apollo’s lyre. Incensed at the obstinacy
and stupidity of the Phrygian king, Apollo punished him by giving him the
ears of an ass. Midas, horrified at being thus disfigured, determined to
hide his disgrace from his subjects by means of a cap; his barber,
however, could not be kept in ignorance of the fact, and was therefore
bribed with rich gifts never to reveal it. Finding, however, that he
could not keep the secret any longer, he dug a hole in the ground into
which he whispered it; then closing up the aperture he returned home,
feeling greatly relieved at having thus eased his mind of its burden. But
after all, this very humiliating secret was revealed to the world, for
some reeds which sprung up from the spot murmured incessantly, as they
waved to and fro in the wind: “King Midas has the ears of an ass.”

In the sad and beautiful story of Niobe, daughter of Tantalus, and
wife of Amphion, king of Thebes, we have another instance of the severe
punishments meted out by Apollo to those who in any way incurred his
displeasure. Niobe was the proud mother of seven sons and seven
daughters, and exulting in the number of her children, she, upon one
occasion, ridiculed the worship of Leto, [80]because she had but one
son and daughter, and desired the Thebans, for the future, to give to her
the honours and sacrifices which they had hitherto offered to the mother
of Apollo and Artemis. The sacrilegious words had scarcely passed her
lips before Apollo called upon his sister Artemis to assist him in
avenging the insult offered to their mother, and soon their invisible
arrows sped through the air. Apollo slew all the sons, and Artemis had
already slain all the daughters save one, the youngest and best beloved,
whom Niobe clasped in her arms, when the agonized mother implored the
enraged deities to leave her, at least, one out of all her beautiful
children; but, even as she prayed, the deadly arrow reached the heart of
this child also. Meanwhile the unhappy father, unable to bear the loss of
his children, had destroyed himself, and his dead body lay beside the
lifeless corpse of his favourite son. Widowed and childless, the
heart-broken mother sat among her dead, and the gods, in pity for her
unutterable woe, turned her into a stone, which they transferred to
Siphylus, her native Phrygian mountain, where it still continues to shed
tears.

The punishment of Niobe forms the subject of a magnificent marble
group, which was found at Rome in the year 1553, and is now in the
gallery of Uffizi, at Florence.

The renowned singer Orpheus was the son of Apollo and Calliope, the
muse of epic poetry, and, as might be expected with parents so highly
gifted, was endowed with most distinguished intellectual qualifications.
He was a poet, a teacher of the religious doctrines known as the Orphic
mysteries, and a great musician, having inherited from his father an
extraordinary genius for music. [81]When he sang to the sweet tones of his lyre,
he charmed all nature, and summoned round him the wild beasts of the
forests, who, under the influence of his music, became tame and gentle as
lambs. The madly rushing torrents stopped their rapid course, and the
very mountains and trees moved from their places at the sound of his
entrancing melodies.

Orpheus became united to a lovely nymph named Eurydice, the daughter
of the sea-god Nereus, whom he fondly loved. She was no less attached to
him, and their married life was full of joy and happiness. But it was
only short-lived; for Aristæus,^[31] the half-brother of Orpheus, having
fallen in love with the beautiful Eurydice, forcibly endeavoured to take
her from her husband, and as she fled across some fields to elude his
pursuit, she was bitten in the foot by a venomous snake, which lay
concealed in the long grass. Eurydice died of the wound, and her
sorrowing husband filled the groves and valleys with his piteous and
unceasing lamentations.

His longing to behold her once more became at last so unconquerable,
that he determined to brave the horrors of the lower world, in order to
entreat Aïdes to restore to him his beloved wife. Armed only with his
golden lyre, the gift of Apollo, he descended into the gloomy depths of
Hades, where his heavenly music arrested for a while the torments of the
unhappy sufferers. The stone of Sisyphus remained motionless; Tantalus
forgot his perpetual thirst; the wheel of Ixion ceased to revolve; and
even the Furies shed tears, and withheld for a time their persecutions.
Undismayed at the scenes of horror and suffering which met his view on
every side, he pursued his way until he arrived at the palace of Aïdes.
Presenting himself before the throne on which sat the stony-hearted king
and his consort Persephone, Orpheus recounted his woes to the sound of
his lyre. Moved to pity by his sweet strains, they listened to his [82]melancholy story, and consented to release
Eurydice on condition that he should not look upon her until they reached
the upper world. Orpheus gladly promised to comply with this injunction,
and, followed by Eurydice, ascended the steep and gloomy path which led
to the realms of life and light. All went well until he was just about to
pass the extreme limits of Hades, when, forgetting for the moment the
hard condition, he turned to convince himself that his beloved wife was
really behind him. The glance was fatal, and destroyed all his hopes of
happiness; for, as he yearningly stretched out his arms to embrace her,
she was caught back, and vanished from his sight for ever. The grief of
Orpheus at this second loss was even more intense than before, and he now
avoided all human society. In vain did the nymphs, his once chosen
companions, endeavour to win him back to his accustomed haunts; their
power to charm was gone, and music was now his sole consolation. He
wandered forth alone, choosing the wildest and most secluded paths, and
the hills and vales resounded with his pathetic melodies. At last he
happened to cross the path of some Thracian women, who were performing
the wild rites of Dionysus (Bacchus), and in their mad fury at his
refusing to join them, they furiously attacked him, and tore him in
pieces. In pity for his unhappy fate, the Muses collected his remains,
which they buried at the foot of Mount Olympus, and the nightingale
warbled a funeral dirge over his grave. His head was thrown into the
river Hebrus, and as it floated down the stream, the lips still continued
to murmur the beloved name of Eurydice.

The chief seat of the worship of Apollo was at Delphi, and here was
the most magnificent of all his temples, the foundation of which reaches
far beyond all historical knowledge, and which contained immense riches,
the offerings of kings and private persons, who had received favourable
replies from the oracle. The Greeks believed Delphi to be the central
point of the earth, because two eagles sent forth by Zeus, one from the
east, the other [83]from the west, were said to have arrived
there at the same moment.

The Pythian games, celebrated in honour of the victory of Apollo over
the Python, took place at Delphi every four years. At the first
celebration of these games, gods, goddesses, and heroes contended for the
prizes, which were at first of gold or silver, but consisted, in later
times, of simple laurel wreaths.

On account of its being the place of his birth, the whole island of
Delos was consecrated to Apollo, where he was worshipped with great
solemnity; the greatest care was taken to preserve the sanctity of the
spot, for which reason no one was suffered to be buried there. At the
foot of Mount Cynthus was a splendid temple of Apollo which possessed an
oracle, and was enriched with magnificent offerings from all parts of
Greece. Even foreign nations held this island sacred, for when the
Persians passed it on their way to attack Greece, they not only sailed
by, leaving it uninjured, but sent rich presents to the temple. Games,
called Delia, instituted by Theseus, were celebrated at Delos every four
years.

A festival termed the Gymnopedæa was held at Sparta in honour of
Apollo, in which boys sang the praises of the gods, and of the three
hundred Lacedæmonians who fell at the battle of Thermopylæ.

Wolves and hawks were sacrificed to Apollo, and the birds sacred to
him were the hawk, raven, and swan.

ROMAN APOLLO.

The worship of Apollo never occupied the all-important position in
Rome which it held in Greece, nor was it introduced till a comparatively
late period. There was no sanctuary erected to this divinity until B.C. 430, when the Romans, in order to avert a
plague, built a temple in his honour; but we do not find the worship of
Apollo becoming in any way prominent until the time of Augustus, who,
having called upon this god for aid before the famous battle of Actium,
ascribed the victory which he [84]gained, to his influence, and accordingly
erected a temple there, which he enriched with a portion of the
spoil.

Augustus afterwards built another temple in honour of Apollo, on the
Palatine Hill, in which at the foot of his statue, were deposited two
gilt chests, containing the Sibylline oracles. These oracles were
collected to replace the Sibylline books originally preserved in the
temple of Jupiter, which were destroyed when that edifice was burned.

The Sibyls were maidens who had received the gift of prophecy, and the
privilege of living to an incredible age. One of these Sibyls (known as
the Cumæan) appeared to Tarquinius Superbus, the last king of Rome,
offering for sale nine books, which she informed him had been written by
herself. Not knowing who she was, Tarquin refused to buy them, upon which
she burned three, and returned with six, demanding the same price as
before. Being again driven away as an impostor, she again retired and
burned three more, returning with the remaining three, for which she
still asked the same price as at first. Tarquin, amazed at her
inconsistency, now consulted the Augurs, who blamed him for not having
bought the nine books when they were first offered to him, and desired
him to secure the remaining three, at whatever price they were to be had.
He, accordingly, purchased the volumes, which were found to contain
predictions of great importance to the Romans. After the disposal of the
books, the Sibyl vanished, and was seen no more.

The most beautiful and renowned of all the statues of Apollo now in
existence, is that known as the Apollo Belvedere, which was found in 1503
among the ruins of [85]ancient Antium. It was purchased by Pope
Julius II., who removed it to the Belvedere of the Vatican, from whence
it takes its name, and where it has been, for more than three hundred
years, the admiration of the world. When Rome was taken, and plundered by
the French, this celebrated statue was transported to Paris, and placed
in the museum there, but in 1815 it was restored to its former place in
the Vatican. The attitude of the figure, which is more than seven feet
high, is inimitable in its freedom, grace, and majesty. The forehead is
noble and intellectual, and the whole countenance so exquisite in its
beauty, that one pauses spell-bound to gaze on so perfect a conception.
The god has a very youthful appearance, as is usual in all his
representations, and with the exception of a short mantle which falls
from his shoulders, is unclothed. He stands against the trunk of a tree,
up which a serpent is creeping, and his left arm is outstretched, as
though about to punish.