THE FLUTE PLAYER.

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 546, 26 December 1928, Page 6

THE FLUTE PLAYER.

A STORY OF OLD GREECE. Pretending that we can do something which we really can’t do gives us no teal satisfaction, does it? It's all wrong, anyway, this showing-off spirit, and not altogether honest. Although this story about Mar-sy-us, the son of Olympus, happened thousands of years ago in far-away Greece, we can learn a lesson from it just as well to-day. There was a beautiful young goddess, Athena, for whom the city of Athens was named. She was very accomplished, and among other things she loved to play upon the flute. She could produce all sorts of rippling tunes on it, much to her delight, so she spent much time at this music-making But sometimes she played so hard that her cheeks were all puffed out and red from her effort, and her wonderful eyes became mere slits to see through. At such times Athena wasn’t beautiful at all, but no one dared to tell her so There were no mirrors in those days and people hardly ever saw how they looked So Athena, who knew she was beautiful because every one told her so, had no idea how ugly she appeared when she was blowing hard on her flute and making her lovely music. And then one day she did find it out! Shtf was wandering along through the woods playing her flute, when she came to a little still pond where she had often stopped to look at her reflection in the water and admire herself. But on this particular day she bent over to look at herself while still blowing on the flute—something she had never before happened to do. She was horrified to find all her beauty apparently gone. She did not stop to take a second look, but, thinking the flute was to blame for ruining her beauty, of which she was quite vain, she threw away the little instrument in disgust, and ran from the spot. It so happened that Marsyus, the son of Olympus, came thr. way. He was fairly accomplished in . msic, and when he saw the flute where Athena had thrown it on the ground he picked it up and began playing. Marsyus supposed, of course, that he would have to practice just hours and hours and perhaps many days, before he could make the flute sound well. But imagine his surprise when that flute seemed to play itself! It gave forth the most ravishing music—all because a goddess had played upon it and so endowed it with a magic power. Now Marsyus was a shrewd fellow, and as no one had seen him when he picked up the flute, he decided to pre*end lie had had it a long time, and that all this wonderful mastery of the instrument was due to his own hard practice. For a while Marsyus’s pretending worked all right. People went wild oyer his playing, and he carefully kept his secret, taking all the credit to himself. He became very vain and proud at the praise heaped upon him and finally he boasted that he co S? d P la y even better than Apollo himself, the god who presided over ail the a ™ *** ancient Greece, including music. Who is this arrogant fellow?” demanded Apollo, “who thinks he is a greater musician than lam Let him he brought before me, and we shall have a contest, he on his flute, and I on PL ly iT, e * We shal l see who plays the better?”

Marsyus only smiled haughtily when he received Apollo’s command, and went at once to the place where the contest was to be held. He felt perfectly sure cf winning. People had come from far and near, and when Marsyus arrived he lounci many notables of ancient Greece already gathered to witness the exciting musical contest between Apollo, the god of music, and Marsyus the fluteplayer.

As soon as the distinguished company was ready to listen and Apollo was ready, too, the contest started. Apollo on his lyre, played such heavenly music that the people were fairly breathless with wonder. Then Marsyus, nothing daunted and sure of his power, began to play, and such marvellous showers of notes rippled from his wonder-flute that it seemed nothing more beautiful could be heard.

But Apollo, now on his mettle, plaved even more beautifully than before. Then Marsyus, too, outdid his previous eff° r * s L And so tiley went on, the contest becoming more and more exciting untU at last Apollo, using his supreme gilts as the god of music, played notes ? n “ ls lyre which Marsyus could not «\Ts ltat s» op.* 1 *? flute. Marsyus tried in vain. Had he been a really great master, as he claimed, instead of being com- ,\° r _ el y on the magic gift with . flute was endowed, the story might have ended differently. was, he faltered and was lost, and Victory s wreath went to Apollo.' then Marsyus had to confess that he Mas no great flute-player at all, that he nad only been pretending that the Power of Athena’s flute was his Sk i V ~S o Marsyus was disgraced before all the people, and to this dav a Statue of him m his dejected state may he seen in the forum at Rome as •” everlasting lesson that pride and yretanec bring their own punishment