with a wild shriek over the face of the waters, and lashed them to a
fury of white-maned waves. With a deafening crash the thunder echoed
through the hills, and the pale forked lightning lit the sky from east
to west. With white cheeks and a heart full of fear, Hero knelt before
the shrine in her chamber, and prayed the gods to have mercy on the
sailors out at sea, and, above all, to grant that Leander had not set
out ere the storm began.
Meanwhile Leander on the other side had seen the storm approaching,
and he knew full well that when the seas ran high no man could swim
the channel and reach the other shore alive. So he sat by his window
and longed for the storm to be spent and the day to dawn; for the
night without Hero was to him but misery. Across the stream he could
see the torch burning fitfully in the gale.
"The gods grant she think me not faithless," he said, "for not going
to her this night."
As he sat and watched, the storm grew wilder and more terrible. In the
swirling, seething waters the Nereid danced with the madness of the
tempest in her heart, up and down over the crested waves, with the
storm wind whistling through her hair. In the gleam of the
lightning-flash she held out her arms to the shore and called,
"Come and dance with me. Leander, O Leander, come!"
As she called, the east wind rushed with a wild shriek across the
water, and blew out the beacon light in Hero's chamber. Leander at his
window saw the pale light disappear and return no more. A blinding
flash of lightning rent the sky, and the rattle of the thunder sounded
as though the mountains of the earth were falling. Then the spirit of
the storm came upon him too, and he heard the voice of the sea-nymph
calling with a wild, unearthly shriek,
"Leander, O Leander, come!"
And he thought it was the voice of Hero calling him in deadly peril.
Perchance the thunderbolt had struck her tower, and it had crashed in
ruins about her and borne her with its falling stones into the rushing
stream below. In a mad frenzy, scarce knowing what he did, he plunged
into the seething waters and struggled in the waves with the strength
of despair. With a wild cry of joy the sea-nymph caught him in her
arms. "At last, at last, thou hast heard my call," she said.
Up and down through the hissing waves she bore him, now plunging down,
deep, deep, into the calm green water below, now rushing round and
round in a whirlpool, now leaping from the crest of one white wave
into the boiling foam of the next, till he lay limp and breathless in
her arms. She heeded not, but bore him on, ever on, across the water
till they came beneath Hero's tower. Then, rising on the crest of the
waves that beat against the wall, she called,
"Come, join with us in the storm-dance! Come, Hero, Hero!"
In the breath of the east wind the stinging foam beat against the
window like one knocking in wild alarm, and the echo of the
sea-nymph's cry reached the maiden as she knelt before the shrine.
Filled with terror, she rushed to the window and looked down on the
seething water. A brilliant flash of lightning blazed across the sky,
and for a moment all was light as day. On the bosom of a breaking wave
she saw Leander with his arms tossed helpless about him, and his head
thrown back pale and lifeless, and above him stood the sea-nymph in a
robe of flashing foam. With a cry of despair Hero leaped to the sill
and plunged into the roaring waves, and with her arms about Leander,
she, too, was tossed along in the dance of Death, till the storm died
away and the nymph bore them down side by side to the floor of the
blue Ægean. There, true to her word, she set them on thrones of coral,
and twined white sea-pearls in their hair, and in time the winding
seaweeds and clinging ocean flowers wove a shroud of beauty about
them; and their bodies slept side by side in the fair ocean depths. So
did it come to pass that the curse of the gods was fulfilled.
But whether it was truly a curse or a blessing, who shall say? For
they lived and loved with a love that has become famous among men, and
side by side they died. And does not the poet tell us of the islands
of the blest, where the souls of the brave and true abide for ever;
where the breeze blows always bright and fresh, and the golden fruits
are glowing, and the crimson-flowered meadows before the city are full
of the shade of trees of frankincense? In that far land there is no
death nor parting, no sorrow and no tears, but those who have been
true on earth dwell ever side by side. If the poet is right, Hero and
Leander are there together, where no storm can reach them and no sea
can part them ever again.
[Illustration]
The Sacrifice of Alcestis
I
Once upon a time when Pelias, the crafty king, ruled in Iolchos by the
sea, his nephew Jason came and tried to win back from him the land
that was his by right. But Pelias put him off with cunning words, and
sent him forth to Colchis in search of the Golden Fleece, thinking
that so he need never look upon his face again. Jason, therefore, who
was brave and stout of heart, and feared not man nor beast, sent a
proclamation through the land, bidding all who loved adventure to join
him in the good ship _Argo_, and sail with him for the Golden Fleece.
From the length and breadth of Hellas the heroes and sons of the
Immortals flocked. Among them came Admetus of Pheræ, in the first
bloom of his manhood, and sailing with the Argonauts, he braved all
the terrors of that fearful voyage, and sat at his oar like a man in
the midst of deadly peril.
After many a long day the remnant of the heroes who had sailed away
from Iolchos returned with the Golden Fleece; and standing before
proud Pelias, they laid it at his feet. In the great hall of the
palace he received them sitting on his throne: on his right hand sat
Philomache his wife, and all about him stood his daughters, Peisidice
and Asteropæa, Hippothoe, and Evadne, and Alcestis--maidens whose
beauty would gladden any father's heart. But fairest of the fair, as
the moon among stars, was Alcestis. When Admetus looked upon her face,
his heart was filled with love for her, and he swore a great oath that
he would live and die unwed, or else have Alcestis to wife.
When Pelias had welcomed back the Argonauts, he bid the henchmen
spread the tables in the hall, and soon the king with his son Acastus
and all the menfolk were seated with the heroes round the well-filled
board. Against a pillar leant a minstrel, who sang of great deeds and
heroes, and how the good ship _Argo_ had braved the terrors of the
seas; while the daughters of Pelias bore round the sweet dark wine in
flagons, and filled up the golden goblets. To Alcestis it fell to fill
up the cup of Admetus, and as he held it out towards her their eyes
met, and she blushed beneath his gaze, and tried to hide her confusion
in the folds of her veil. She was vexed with herself for the blush and
vexed with him for having called it forth. Yet withal her heart beat
fast, and the beating of it was not altogether born of wrath; for
Admetus was a proper man in the prime of life, who had sailed the high
seas and seen danger face to face, and a brave man's admiration is
ever dear to a woman's heart. So it came to pass that when Admetus
drew from his breast a lock of the Golden Fleece, which Jason had
given him for a memorial, and held it forth to her, she refused it
not, but took it and hid it in the folds of her gown, and when Admetus
was gone away she would draw it forth and sigh as she looked at it.
When Admetus saw that she did not altogether disdain him, he was glad
at heart, and plucked up all his courage, and went and stood before
the king her father, and boldly asked her hand in marriage. As he
spoke the king's brow darkened, for he loved not Jason nor any of his
crew. He had sent them forth, as he thought, to their death, and now
they were come home to wrest the kingdom from him and give it to the
lawful heir. So he cast about in his mind for some excuse; for Admetus
was nobly born, and heir to a great kingdom, and he could not say him
nay without good reason. In his trouble he bethought him of an ancient
oracle which a soothsayer had spoken when Alcestis lay a babe upon her
mother's breast. Till now he had put aside all thought of it, and had
looked upon the seer as a mad prophet whose words were of no account.
But now that they would serve him in his need, he pretended that he
had always laid them up in his heart, and intended to abide by them.
"Young man," he said, "they who would woo my child Alcestis must woo
and win her as the gods have ordered. When she lay in her mother's
arms, there came a prophet and stood over her and spake, saying,
'Child of evil fortune! whosoever thou weddest, woe to thy wedded
life, sobeit thy lord come not to bear thee away in a chariot drawn by
a lion and a boar.' Thus spake the prophet of the gods, and his words
shall surely come to pass. Think not, then, that I will give my
daughter up to misery, or that thou hast but to look on her beauty
and long for her, to have her for thine own. Nay; hence, away, and
bethink thee how thou canst so beguile a lion's heart that he shall
walk tamely in the yoke beside his lawful prey. Then, and then only,
when thou comest driving this strange pair shalt thou have Alcestis
for thy wife."
Admetus was sad at heart when he heard the king's words, and he set
out sorrowfully home for the halls of Pheres, his father; for he
thought that this thing was beyond the power of mortal man to do, and
that all his life long he must live in loneliness of soul, without
Alcestis to wife.
When they heard of their son's return, Pheres and Periclymene, his
wife, came forth to greet him, and fell upon his neck and embraced him
with tears of joy. A great feast was prepared, and the altars of the
gods sent up to heaven the savoury smoke of sacrifice, and all the
people rejoiced together at the return of the hero their land had sent
forth.
After all the feasting and merrymaking was ended, Pheres drew his son
aside to his chamber and said,
"My son, whilst thou hast been away in strange lands the hand of Time
hath dealt heavily with me. My knees are weak beneath me, my hair is
white with age, and all my strength is gone. Year by year it groweth
harder for me to ride forth among my people, and the folk on the far
boundary know my face no more, and I cannot say whether all is well
with them. Time is it for me to give my crown and sceptre to a younger
man, and thou hast shown thyself worthy to rule. Take now the kingdom
from my hand, that thy mother and I may pass our last years in peace
together. A mighty kingdom have I builded up for thee, and worthy of
mighty kings. See to it, then, that thou take to wife some princess of
a royal house and rear up a son to rule the land when thou art dead."
And Admetus answered,
"The kingdom will I take from thee right gladly, my father, and rule
it well and wisely so long as the gods shall give me strength. But as
to taking a wife in my halls, that I can never do."
Then he told him of his love for Alcestis, and how he could never hope
to win her. But his father laughed and shook his head.
"'Tis the way of hot-headed youth to think that in all the wide world
one woman alone hath a fair face and bright eyes. Time and the beauty
of another woman shall heal thy malady, never fear."
"Time and another woman may drive me to my death," he answered hotly,
"but never will I wed with any maid save Alcestis alone, whom I love."
And he strode in anger from the room. But Pheres laughed the louder.
"Verily, young blood is the same the whole world through," said he.
So Admetus became King of Pheræ, and ruled in his father's stead; and
from the shores of the sea below Pelion to the land of the Molossians,
the mountain-folk of the Far West, his name was held in honour among
his people; for the land had peace in his day, and the valleys stood
thick with corn, and by the fair-flowing waters of Boebe the shepherd
played his pipes, and his flocks wandered browsing about the green
meadows. No stranger was ever turned away from the palace doors, but,
however poor and ragged he might be, he was welcomed right gladly, and
feasted in the halls and sped upon his way with kindly words. So it
came to pass that through the length and breadth of Hellas, when men
spoke of good cheer and hospitality, they always raised the cup in
honour of Admetus, the kindliest of hosts to rich and poor alike.
II
One day as Admetus sat at meat in the great hall with his parents and
all the household, a thing befell which changed the course of his
whole life. Inside the fire burnt brightly on the hearth, and the
torches on the walls sent a cheerful gleam through the shadowy
vastness. But outside the wind howled about the corners of the palace
like Furies in their wrath, and anon it sunk down to a sob and a wail,
while the lashing of the rain against the walls was as the whip of a
furious driver urging on his steeds. And lo! from out the darkness of
the storm there came a man, who stood in the doorway of the great hall
and looked round about upon the company. Many a long mile must he have
come that day in the teeth of the gale, for from head to foot he was
splashed with mud, and the water ran from his ragged cloak in
streamlets, making a pool upon the floor. In his hand he carried a
staff; from a strap about his body hung a strange instrument such as
no man in the hall had ever seen before; and he held his head up
proudly and looked fearlessly about him, so that for all his sorry
raiment he seemed no common beggar, but a young king in all his pride.
A hush fell upon the people as they gazed, for his eyes shone
strangely bright, and in the darkness of the shadowy doorway his
stature seemed greater than that of mortal man. When he had looked his
fill and saw where Admetus sat, he strode across the hall with great
swinging strides, and came and stood before him. As he walked the
people looked silently after him, for a great ship running before the
wind was not more fair than he.
"O king," he said, and his voice rang clear and mellow through the
hall, "a suppliant I stand before thee, and my hand is red with blood.
Say, wilt thou receive me in thy halls, or wilt thou turn me forth
into the storm and darkness?"
And Admetus marvelled at his words.
"Who art thou, stranger, to make this bold request? When a man's hand
is stained with blood, 'tis to the altars of the gods that he should
fly for cleansing, and not bring pollution to the palaces of kings."
"My name it behoveth thee not to know now, nor the deed I have done.
Let it suffice thee when I say that not yet have the altars of that
god been built who hath the power to cleanse me from blood-guiltiness.
Nay, myself I must work out mine own cleansing, and for the waxing and
the waning of twelve moons it is decreed that I must serve a mortal
man. Wilt thou take me for thine herdsman--yea or nay?"
At this Admetus marvelled the more, and looked hard in the face of the
stranger, but his eyes fell beneath the other's fearless gaze as those
of a dog beneath his master's; and he answered him never a word, for
he felt that the thought of his heart lay writ beneath that piercing
look as clear as writing on a tablet. So he signed to his attendants,
and they led the stranger forth and bathed him in warm water, and
anointing him, clad him in fresh sweet linen and a tunic of silk. When
all was accomplished, they led him back to the hall; and if the people
had marvelled before at his beauty, their wonder was increased twofold
as they gazed at him now.
When he had taken his fill of meat and wine, the stranger turned to
Admetus and said,
"My noble host, fain would I, in some poor measure, requite thee and
thy household for kindness to a wanderer and a suppliant. I have some
small skill in song, and have fashioned me an instrument whereon I
play sweet harmonies, that frame the melody of my song like the golden
setting of a gem. Have I thy leave to sing before thee in thy halls?"
As Admetus bowed his head the stranger loosed the curious instrument
from his girdle. The body of it was the hollow shell of a tortoise, in
the rim of which two twisted horns were cunningly fitted, joined
together towards the top by a silver band. The space between the band
and the furthermost edge of the shell was spanned by seven strings of
gold. Lovingly he drew his fingers across the strings, and the chords
rang soft and true through the silence of the hall, as he played a
prelude to his song, and anon raised his voice and sang. He sang a
strange, sweet song, such as no man there had ever heard, and yet in
the depths of his soul each one of them felt that he had known it
before he was born. For the song that the stranger sang was the song
that the stars first sang together when the universe was born, and
light sprang forth from the darkness. The melody they made that day
vibrates for ever till the end of time. Musicians and artists and
poets, and those whom the gods love, hear it and sing it, each in his
separate way, for those who have forgotten the sound of it. Deep in
the heart of every man it lies voiceless, till once at least in his
lifetime the hand of the divine musician sets the chords vibrating,
and opens the ears of the soul to hear the heavenly harmonies. Such
was the song that the stranger sang, and the people sat breathless
beneath his spell, and gazing deep into the red-hot heart of the fire,
saw strange dreams and visions. The very dogs awoke from their sleep,
and crept closer to the music, and with their heads between their
paws, gazed with unblinking eyes at the singer; and a magic thrill ran
round the circle of them that listened, both man and beast, and welded
and fused their souls in one, so that they felt that the life in them
all was the same. When the song was ended, silence fell upon all
things--even the storm outside had ceased to rage; and Time stood
still as each man sat motionless in his seat, with heart too full for
speech. But at length the spell was broken, and with a sigh and a
whisper, they glided away to their rest, till Admetus and the stranger
were left face to face before the hearth.
"O divine musician," said Admetus, "I know not who thou art. This only
do I know, that I could worship thee for the godlike beauty of thy
song, and follow thee and serve thee all my days."
"Nay, O king; 'tis destined that I must serve thee, and be thy
servant for a year. To-morrow I will lay aside this silken doublet,
and put on the dress that suits my station, and go forth with the
other shepherds of thy flocks."
"O stranger, this thing can never be. Who am I that thou shouldst be
my servant?"
"Thou art the man who turneth not the stranger from thy doors, though
his hands, like mine, be red with blood. As for me, I must work out my
cleansing, as I told thee. For blood-guiltiness is mine, though I have
not sinned in the shedding thereof. But even Zeus himself, thou
knowest, hath not reached wisdom and might, save by sore struggle
against powers less wise than he. Happy am I if by the service of an
upright man I may be purified."
From that day forth the stranger became a herdsman in the halls of
Admetus, and in no wise would he be treated differently from the other
servants. Clad in the coarse, rough homespun of a shepherd, he would
go forth at early dawn with the flocks, and at eventide return and sit
among his fellows at the lower table. The hearts of all the household
were warmed towards him, and it seemed that in his presence no evil
thing could live; for if ever a quarrel or strife of tongues arose, a
look from the stranger would take all the spirit from the combatants,
and the matter fell dead between them like a ball at the feet of
listless players--nay, it seemed that he could read the very thoughts
of their inmost hearts, and all malice and unkindness withered away in
the sunshine of his presence, like sprigs that have no root. Strange
tales were told of how he shepherded his flocks, for the shepherd
lads who went forth with him at dawn would lie at his feet in some
shady grove whilst the flocks browsed close at hand; and he would take
his lyre and sing to them of all things in heaven and earth, and at
the sound of his voice the hearts of all living things were moved.
From the rocky heights of Othrys the lion came down and fawned at his
feet with bloodless fangs, and the spotted lynxes gambolled with the
flocks. The shy fawns forgot their fears and left the shelter of the
tall pine-woods, and danced about his lyre with fairy feet; for the
magic of his singing made the whole world kin, and the bow and the
arrow were laid aside in those days, and no watchman stood upon the
heights to guard the herds from beasts of prey. But the flocks
increased and multiplied, and the earth brought forth rich harvests of
corn and fruit, and all the land had peace. So Admetus loved and
honoured his strange herdsman above all his fellows, and took counsel
with him, and followed his advice in all things.
III
Meanwhile in Iolchos by the sea the old king Pelias had died. His son
Acastus succeeded to his throne, and, as the custom was, held great
games in honour of his father. Far and wide through Hellas he sent the
news, and bade all men of might come and take part in the contests of
running and wrestling and hurling the quoit. To the victors in each
trial he offered to give one of his sisters in marriage, but for
Alcestis he made the contest doubly hard, for she was the fairest and
noblest of the daughters of Pelias, and he knew that the suitors
would flock without number for her hand if the task that was set them
was not well-nigh impossible. So he ordained that he who would win her
must prove himself the mightiest of all men in the field that day, and
that, moreover, he must come to bear away his bride in a chariot drawn
by a lion and a boar; for so the king, her father, had ordered in
obedience to the words of the prophet.
When Admetus heard the news, the fire of his love for Alcestis burst
forth into flame, and he felt that he could conquer the whole world to
win her. When he went to rest that night he could dream of nought but
her, and of how all men would marvel when they saw him come to bear
her away in a chariot drawn by a lion and a boar. How he was to train
this strange yoke-pair he knew not, but he felt that Alcestis was not
one whom the gods had fated to live unwedded all her days. From the
length and breadth of Hellas men would flock to woo her, and surely
from all the host one would be found to do this deed, and why should
he not be that one? So he argued, and dreamed sweet dreams of love and
happiness. But,--whether it be that sweet dreams take the heart from a
man, because in sleep they put within his grasp visions which, on
waking, he finds to be but shadows of a shade, and he longs to clasp
them once again without the labour and toil which alone on earth can
bring man happiness,--certain it is that when he awoke Admetus felt
that the task was hopeless, and that all his efforts would be vain.
His heart was in a tumult; his longing for Alcestis was as strong as
ever, but the confidence of winning her was gone. He went out into the
woodland and threw himself on the grass beside the stream and gazed
moodily into the dark depths of a pool. Its silent stillness so
maddened him that he cast a pebble into the midst, and watched it as
it slowly sank, feeling that it was an image of his own life. An hour
or more he sat there idly playing with the pebbles and the water,
heavy at heart, and a prey to morbid fancies. At length he was roused
from his dreaming by the sound of music far away. Slowly it drew
nearer, and from the shadow of the trees came the strange herdsman
playing on his lyre, followed by his flocks and the wild creatures of
the forest. Without a word he came and sat beside Admetus at the
water's edge, and the animals lay grouped around. Then he changed the
key of his song from a merry dance-tune to a solemn lay, and the
burden of his song was love--how love, if it were but strong and pure,
could conquer the whole world and accomplish deeds undreamt of. As
Admetus listened, the tumult of his heart was stilled, and once again
the flower of hope sprang up in his breast--not the phantom flower
that springs from idle dreams, but the bright living flower whose
roots are firmly planted in the will to do and dare all things to win
the promised prize.
When the herdsman had ended his song, he laid aside his lyre and gazed
at Admetus.
"Dost thou love this maiden with all thy heart and soul, Admetus?" he
asked.
"I would face the whole world to win her," said he.
"Wouldst thou lay down thy life for her?"