Laodamas, was king of Thebes. When he heard that the Epigoni were
coming to avenge their fathers, he armed the citizens and marched out
to meet them, and a battle took place in front of the city gates, in
the very same field where the heroes who accompanied Adrastus had
fallen. The Epigoni thought of their fathers and fought the more
bravely, and though the Thebans held their ground steadily at first,
their courage gave way after their king, Laodamas, had been slain by
Alcmaeon, and they fled back into the city. The Epigoni encamped
before Thebes, saying that they would not raise the siege until they
had conquered it, and the Thebans meanwhile held counsel as to how
they might best save themselves from their vengeance. Among them was
the blind seer, Tiresias, who had long ago foretold to Laïus that if
a child were born to him, he would sin against both his father and
mother. He was now very old, with hair as white as snow, and he had
lived through all the prosperity and all the calamities of the
Thebans, and was greatly honoured by them, so they went to him to ask
his advice as to what they had better do. He said that they could
only hope to save their lives by artifice, and told them how to set
to work. According to his directions they sent a herald the next day
to the Epigoni, to announce that the Thebans were willing to make
some atonement for the slaughter of their fathers. The Epigoni did
not suspect any trick, and began to negotiate with the herald as to
what form the atonement should take, without {226} perceiving what
was going on in the city. But meanwhile the Thebans were pouring out
of it on the further side and taking with them whatever they regarded
as the most precious of their possessions, and they succeeded in
carrying off, not only their children, but also a good deal of
treasure. When the Epigoni had announced what they would demand as
an atonement, the herald returned to the city; but he only entered it
by one gate in order to pass out on the further side by the gate
through which the Thebans had fled, and he was not long in overtaking
them. Tiresias had accompanied the Thebans, led by a boy; on the way
he asked for something to drink, and the boy took him to a cool
spring, but as soon as he had tasted the water he sank down and died.
The Thebans buried him by the roadside, and then they marched on till
they came to a strange land, where they built another city.
Meanwhile a day went by, and then another, and still the Epigoni
waited for the herald to return. But when two days had passed
without any further sign of him, and no one appeared upon the city
walls, neither was there any smoke to be seen rising from the houses,
they began to suspect that the Thebans had fled. They climbed over
the walls without any resistance and entered the city, but they found
no one there. There was, however, a great deal of treasure in the
houses, for the Thebans had not been able to carry everything away
with them, and the heroes took an enormous booty. They chose out the
best things and sent them to Delphi as a present to Apollo, and the
remainder they divided among themselves. They made Thersander, the
son of Polynices, king of Thebes, and {227} proclaimed that those
among the Argives who chose to remain in Thebes instead of returning
home with Alcmaeon might settle there and have portions of the land
assigned to them for their own. Many people from the neighbourhood
came also into the city with their wives and children, so that before
long all the houses were once more inhabited. Alcmaeon led back the
remainder of the Argives to their own homes, for the Epigoni had now
avenged their fathers, and had won for themselves glory and renown.
Alcmaeon now remembered the oath that he had once sworn to his
father, before he set out with the other princes to march against
Thebes. Amphiaraus had then made both his sons swear that they would
avenge him upon Eriphyle for having allowed herself to be bribed by
the veil and necklace to give her voice in favour of what she knew
would cost him his life.[1] But it was a hard task for Alcmaeon, for
Eriphyle was his mother. He did not know what to do, so he went to
Delphi and asked the Oracle whether he should keep his promise to his
father or not. The Oracle said yes, that he must do this; and so he
returned home and killed his mother. When Eriphyle was dying, she
cursed every country that should shelter her murderer, and the curse
of the dying mother had such power that everything must needs carry
it into effect. Alcmaeon became mad, and wandered about from one
country to another till he came to a king named Phegeus, who knew how
to purify murderers, and who had compassion on him and purged him
from the stain of blood. Then the madness left him, and he was able
to rest once {228} more. Phegeus gave him his daughter in marriage,
and said that he should live in his country and have an honourable
position there. Alcmaeon was very glad of this, and he presented the
veil and necklace to his wife who was very much pleased with them.
In the spring however, the seed did not come up, which caused a
dearth throughout the land,--and this was owing to the curse of
Eriphyle. The king consulted a seer about it, and he said that the
land would not bear fruit so long as Alcmaeon remained in the kingdom.
So Alcmaeon had to take leave of his wife and quit the country, and
he set out not knowing whither to go. He went to Delphi and asked
the Pythia if there was any land that could receive him without
suffering for it; and she answered that he must go to the river-god
Acheloüs and ask him to help him, for that no one else could do so.
Alcmaeon therefore went to the river and called to Acheloüs, who came
up out of the water and asked what he wanted. Alcmaeon told him of
his distress and begged for his help, and the river-god took pity on
him and made his stream bring down sand and silt from the heights
above, until a new and fruitful country was formed by the side of the
river; and as it had not been in existence when Eriphyle cursed the
land that should give her son rest, Alcmaeon was able to remain
there, and he ploughed and sowed seed, and the earth brought forth
fruit. Acheloüs had a very beautiful daughter, and Alcmaeon became
so much attached to her, that he was unfaithful to his wife, and
married the daughter of the river-god. Several years passed by in
peace and prosperity; the gods sent them two sons, and Alcmaeon had
no thought of ever leaving his place of shelter. {229} But the
daughter of Acheloüs had heard of the beautiful veil and necklace,
and she never ceased to beg her husband to go and fetch them for her,
till at last he was obliged to yield, and set out for the country of
King Phegeus. He did not tell Phegeus the truth however, but said
that he was still obliged to wander about, and could only obtain rest
by taking the veil and necklace to Delphi and dedicating them to
Apollo. The daughter of Phegeus did not doubt his sincerity, and
readily parted with the precious ornaments for the sake of her
husband whom she loved dearly. But before Alcmaeon had reached home
again, King Phegeus heard that he had been unfaithful and had married
the daughter of Acheloüs, and he was very angry, and commanded his
sons to go after him and kill him. They were wild headstrong youths
who delighted in deeds of blood, and they overtook Alcmaeon and
killed him and took away both the treasures. Then they returned
home, thinking that their sister would rejoice at the vengeance that
had overtaken her husband; but though he had married another woman,
she was very sorry for his death and was angry with her brothers for
having killed him.
The daughter of Acheloüs waited long for Alcmaeon to return home; but
a good while afterwards, a stranger who happened to be passing that
way told her that he had been put to death by the sons of Phegeus.
Then it was her greatest wish to avenge his death, and she begged
Zeus that her two sons might at once become grown-up men. In that
same night the children grew up to be men, and their mother provided
them with weapons, and told them that their father had been murdered
by the sons of Phegeus, and that they were {230} to avenge him. They
set off for the country of Phegeus, but on their way they stopped to
rest at the house of a prince where it happened that the sons of
Phegeus were also staying, for they too were on a journey, and they
had with them the veil and the necklace. The young men did not know
each other, but as they were talking together at the feast, the sons
of Phegeus brought out the precious ornaments and showed them to the
others who thus recognised the murderers of their father, and they
drew their swords and killed them. Then they returned home to their
mother with the precious treasures. But the wise river-god said that
they were no real treasures, for they brought misfortune to whoever
possessed them; and he made his grandsons carry them to Delphi, and
present them as an offering to the god Apollo.
[1] See p. 215.
{231}
XXXII.
EROS AND PSYCHE.
There lived once a king and queen who had three daughters. The
youngest of them was named Psyche, and she was so wonderfully
beautiful that when she went through the streets, the people threw
flowers before her and kissed their hands to her, as they used to do
to the statues of the gods. The only one who did not delight in her
was the goddess Aphrodite. She was accustomed to drive through the
city in a chariot drawn by doves, and every time she did so it vexed
her afresh to see that the townspeople neglected her worship in order
to pay homage to the lovely Psyche, as if it were she and not
Aphrodite who was the goddess of beauty. And she called her son
Eros, who was the god of love, and commanded him to cause the
princess whom she hated to set her love upon the most unworthy of all
mortals.
Not long afterwards the old king asked the Oracle to whom he should
give his daughter Psyche in marriage, and the answer he received was
that she must be dressed as a bride and led to the top of a rocky
cliff that stood up high above the city, and that then all her
friends must say good-bye to her for ever, and leave her there alone
to be taken to the house of the husband {232} appointed for her. And
that if he refused to obey the Oracle, grievous misfortune would
befall him and all his household. The king and queen were greatly
distressed at this sentence, and the whole land mourned with them,
for why should the Oracle speak so mysteriously if it did not mean
that the appointed husband was some horrible monster? But they were
obliged to obey, lest some worse misfortune should overtake them.
Psyche was dressed as a bride and led to the rock, in a procession of
the citizens. The flutes and other musical instruments gave forth
joyous sounds; but louder still was heard the sound of mourning and
lamentation. The grey-haired father and mother wept bitterly as they
kissed their child for the last time, and then the wedding torches
were put out, and the procession wound sadly and silently back to the
city.
Psyche meanwhile was left alone upon the desolate rock; but very soon
a Wind-god came, who seized her in his arms and flew through the air
with her, till at last he put her down in a valley on the further
side of the hill. Psyche hid her face in her hands at first that she
might not see the horrible things she expected to find all round her;
but when she did venture timidly to open her eyes, she could scarcely
believe what she saw. She found herself seated in a meadow full of
flowers, with a clear stream running through it, and a wood near by,
in front of which there stood a most beautiful palace; its roof was
supported by pillars of pure gold, and its walls were covered with
sculptures wrought in silver. Full of astonishment, Psyche rose and
went towards the palace. As she approached it, she noticed that the
air was filled with a delicious scent, and when {233} she entered the
palace, she met with some new splendour at every step. The rooms
were furnished with great magnificence, and were filled with
beautiful ornaments of gold and silver. Then there fell upon her ear
the sweet voice of a nymph, which said, 'We are at your service, and
prepared to carry out your wishes, whatever they may be.' Psyche
thought she would like to refresh herself with some cool water, and
in a moment a beautiful bath was drawn forward by unseen hands and
placed before her. After she had bathed and anointed herself, she
went into the next room where she found a table spread with a
tempting meal, and all the while she was eating, sounds of sweet
music were heard and songs were sung by unseen nymphs. When Psyche
had finished, she felt in need of rest, and she lay down on a couch
and went to sleep. Meanwhile it became quite dark, and by-and-by she
was awakened by a gentle movement, and a sweet voice said to her, 'I
am thy husband, and this house is thine and mine,--all its splendours
are for thy pleasure,--but never seek to see my face, for then I
should be obliged to leave thee for ever.' The husband remained with
her until the day was about to dawn, and then he vanished.
The next day, and each following day, everything happened as before:
the unseen nymphs waited on Psyche and shortened the hours by singing
and playing to her, and with the darkness came the husband who
remained in the palace until morning.
The heart of Psyche was divided between joy and sorrow. Her kind
husband and the wonders and delights of the palace filled her with
joy, but tears often came to her eyes in thinking of her parents and
her {234} play-fellows. Once when she was looking towards the high
rock from which she had been brought by the Wind-god, she saw her two
sisters there, and she was filled with so great a longing to see them
again that when next her husband came to her, she begged him to send
for them. For a moment he hesitated, but then he promised to do as
she wished, and told her also that she might give them anything she
liked out of the treasures of the palace to take away with them as
presents; 'but,' he added, 'take care not to let them delude you into
making any attempt to see my face.' Psyche promised without any
misgiving, for she felt herself perfectly free from curiosity.
On the following day when the two sisters again appeared on the rock,
the Wind-god took them up on his shoulders and carried them into the
beautiful valley. Psyche received them with many embraces, and asked
them endless questions about her parents and play-fellows. Then she
led them into the palace and desired the music to sound, whilst she
showed them all the beautiful things. They were dumb with amazement,
and stood looking at one another; and then Psyche asked them to
choose whatever they liked best to take away with them, for they were
quite welcome to it. But the two sisters had wicked, envious
dispositions, and were not pleased that Psyche should be so much
better off than they were. They asked who was her husband, and when
she told them that he was kind and good, but that she had never seen
him and that she was forbidden ever to seek to do so, they made a
sign one to the other, and one of them pretended to cry, and said,
'Ah, dear sister, it must {235} then be true what the people say.
They say that every evening a hideous monster is seen to creep into
this valley,--a horrible serpent with bloody jaws.' And the other
sister pretended to weep also, and she said, 'When he gets to the
palace he takes the form of a man; but no doubt his countenance bears
the traces of his cruel nature, and that is the reason why he will
not let you look at him. Alas! only too soon shall we have to
deplore your miserable death.'
Psyche was herself so entirely free from falseness that she had no
suspicion of the treachery of her sisters. She was horror-struck at
what they said, and though at first she refused to believe that the
gentle voice she had so often heard could come from the jaws of a
monster, yet they so persisted in tormenting her with their crafty
speeches, that at last she ended by believing them, and was only
anxious to escape from the dreadful creature. When the eldest sister
saw this, she said to her, 'There is just one means of saving your
life. You must summon up your courage, and to-night, when the
monster is asleep, take your lamp in your hand and a sharp knife, and
go to his couch and pierce him through the heart with the knife.'
She said this because she thought that if Psyche disobeyed her
husband by looking at him when he was asleep, all her happiness would
be at an end. The two sisters gave Psyche no peace till she had made
up her mind to do as they said. Then they took as many of the
treasures of the palace as they could carry, and Psyche called to the
Wind-god to come and take them away again.
When it was dark, her husband came as usual; but she was afraid of
him, and could hardly find a word to {236} say in answer to his
friendly greeting. And at midnight, when he was fast asleep, she lit
a lamp, and taking a knife in her hand, went to his couch with the
intention of killing him. The light fell upon the couch, and there
she saw,--no monster, but Eros himself, the winged god of love,
radiant with beauty. The knife fell from her hand, and she felt that
she could never be weary of gazing at his glorious form. But as she
bent over him she forgot to take care that the lamp in her hand was
held straight, and a drop of hot oil was spilt, which fell upon his
shoulder and awoke him. He opened his eyes and saw Psyche bending
over him with the lamp in her hand. He looked at her very
sorrowfully, and said, 'Thou hast mistrusted me and transgressed my
command; my dwelling is no longer here. I am Eros, as thou hast
discovered. My mother Aphrodite is angry with thee, and she
commanded me to cause thee to love the most unworthy of men. But
when I saw thee, I was myself filled with love for thee, and
determined to hide thee from my mother that thou mightest be my wife.
Only in the deepest secrecy have I dared to act against her will.
And now thou hast disobeyed my command, and I must leave thee for
ever.' When he had said this, he took up his bow and quiver which
stood by the side of the couch, and flew away.
Psyche was filled with the bitterest remorse, and desired to live no
longer. When the day dawned, she went to the river and threw herself
into it. But the river-god was unwilling to kill anything so
beautiful, and he carried her on the top of his waters to the farther
shore, and set her down there. The birds were chirping in the trees,
and the morning sun looked down {237} so pleasantly on the river and
the meadows that a ray of hope sprang up in her heart, and she
thought, 'How if I could succeed in winning him back? They say that
he is the kindest of all the gods. I will go all over the world
seeking him.' So she set out, and took no heed of the roughness of
the way or of the thorns that pierced her feet, and wandered into all
corners of the world, hoping to find some trace of him.
After she had wandered for a long time, she came to the palace of
Aphrodite, and she said to herself, 'The goddess is indeed angry with
me, but is her anger mightier than my grief? I will enter her
service, and it may be that I shall succeed in gaining her good
will.' So she went into the palace, and offered herself as servant
to the goddess. Now Aphrodite knew that instead of doing Psyche any
injury, Eros had secretly married her, for a sea-gull that had made
its nest for a time in the valley had told her about it. She felt
therefore a grim joy when the unhappy girl put herself into her
power, and in a haughty tone she said to her, 'If your mind is set on
being beloved by a god, you will have to accomplish hard tasks, and
it will be the worse for you if you fail to perform them.' Then she
set her the first task. She piled up in front of the palace a great
heap of seeds,--wheat, beans, poppies, and peas,--all mixed together,
and saying, 'Before night comes all the seeds must be sorted,' she
went away. Psyche could not have done it in ten days. She sat down
by the heap, buried her face in her hands, and wept bitterly. But
there lived close by a great nation of ants, and one of them saw the
beautiful girl crying, and was sorry for her, and called {238} the
others to come and help her. Then there came an endless array of
ants, who set to work and soon sorted the seeds, though some of them
were so large that it took four, eight, or even ten ants to roll a
single seed to its place, and when Psyche looked up, the work was
done and the ants were marching away again. She kissed her hands to
them, and thanked them prettily for their kindness. When Aphrodite
came home in the evening and saw the seeds laid out in order, she
could find no fault with her industrious servant, but she gave her a
look that was far from friendly, for she would much rather have had
some excuse for blaming her.
The next morning she said to Psyche, 'There is a copse near by, where
there graze some sheep with golden fleeces. Go and fetch me three
tufts of their wool.' Psyche set out, and went slowly along the
river-side towards the wood. On the bank stood some reeds which
rustled in the morning breeze, and the rustling turned into words
like these, 'Take care what you do, for the golden-fleeced sheep are
fierce animals, and their bite is poisonous. Wait till mid-day, and
then go into the copse and look at the bushes.' So said the reeds,
and then they rustled again as before. Psyche thanked them, and sat
down by the side of the river until the shadows were at their
shortest. Then she knew it was mid-day, and she went into the copse
and found the sheep all lying asleep. She trod gently so as not to
wake them, and looked at the bushes which were covered with tufts of
golden wool, for the sheep had rubbed themselves against the bushes
and left part of their fleeces sticking to the thorns. Psyche took
the three best tufts and left the copse. When she came back {239}
and gave them to her mistress, Aphrodite was surprised, for she had
expected that Psyche would be bitten to death by the fierce sheep.
She said to her with an angry look, 'You have not yet finished your
day's work. Take your pitcher and ascend that hill. At the top of
it there is some black water. Fetch me some.'
Psyche started off obediently with her pitcher. When she reached the
hill, she saw before her a steep path leading up to the spring, but
near it were two dreadful dragons who looked as if they would not let
any one pass them alive. The water fell into a dark ravine by the
side of the path, and flowed deep down into the Lower World. It
bubbled angrily in the hollow, and called out to Psyche, 'What do you
want here? Go away, and be quick about it, or your life is not worth
much.' Psyche put down her pitcher and stood still, weeping
bitterly. But she had not been there long when there appeared a
great eagle, which circled round her several times and then seized
the handle of her pitcher in his beak and flew off with it to the
spring. The dragons howled, and raised themselves as high as they
could in the air that they might be the better able to shoot out
flames at him from their mouths, but their fiery breath was powerless
to scorch him. He came back with the filled pitcher which he set
down beside Psyche, and then he spread his wings again and had soon
disappeared among the clouds. Psyche cast a grateful glance after
him, took up her pitcher, and set out joyfully on her way home. When
Aphrodite saw her returning, she felt sure that she had come with an
empty pitcher, for she knew that if she {240} had attempted to pass
the dragons they would have killed her, and she thought that she
would now be able to imprison her in a damp dungeon and keep her
without sufficient food or sunshine. But when she looked into the
vessel, she saw that it was full of the black water which Psyche had
been desired to fetch. She was very angry, and poured it out upon
the ground, for it was of no use to her, and began to ponder what
task she could impose upon Psyche which would bring about her death
without fail.