Famous Lovers
I. Echo and Narcissus
Echo was a wood-nymph and a follower of Diana; and she had the one
fault of wanting to talk all the time, especially if she found some
one who was willing to listen. One day Juno went down in great haste
to the earth, suspecting that Jupiter was spending too much time in
the society of the nymphs; but before she had gone very far into the
forest she met Echo and stopped to speak to her. Now Echo knew that
the ruler of the gods was happily engaged with the nymphs, and would
not be pleased at his wife's sudden appearance; so she began to talk
rapidly to Juno, and to tell her such entertaining stories that the
unsuspicious goddess waited to listen. While Echo was thus keeping the
jealous queen from seeking for her husband, Jupiter--warned of her
coming--left the nymphs and returned in haste to Olympus. When, later
on, Juno learned that Echo had intentionally kept her listening so
that Jupiter could make his retreat unseen, she was so angry with the
officious nymph that she forbade her ever to speak again, except to
repeat the last word of any conversation she might hear. Thus she could
never more tell beguiling stories, or interfere in behalf of Jupiter.
At first Echo was very miserable over this misfortune; but in spite
of it she managed to spend her time happily in the forest, and to
hunt with the other nymphs of Diana. One evening as she stopped at a
brookside to drink, she met a handsome youth named Narcissus, and at
once fell in love with him; but unfortunately she could not tell him
of her affection except by languishing looks and sighs. Narcissus was
not at all pleased by her evident interest in him, for many maidens had
loved him, and he had turned coldly from their advances, preferring
to roam the forest alone. Sometime later Narcissus was hunting with
a companion, and, having rushed away in pursuit of a stag, he found
that his friend was no longer in sight. He called to him, but no one
answered except the devoted Echo who was always dogging his footsteps.
When Narcissus called "Are you here?" Echo replied, "Here." "Come!"
cried the youth, and Echo answered, "Come." Then she appeared before
the young hunter and mutely begged for his love; but Narcissus
scornfully turned from her, exclaiming, "You shall never have me."
"Have me," cried the unhappy maiden; but her frank offer was repulsed,
and the hard-hearted youth turned away. Echo made no further attempt
to win his love, but went into the mountains to live out her sad life
alone. No one ever saw her again, and in time she pined away and died;
but her voice remained to whisper among the hills, and to give back the
last word to any one who sought to call her.
As for Narcissus, his scorn of love brought its just punishment, for
Venus decreed that he should suffer even as poor Echo had done. One
day when he was hunting in a remote part of the forest, he came upon a
beautiful deep pool in which all objects were reflected as clearly as
in a mirror. No wild things had ever come to drink of the cool stream;
no feet of beasts had ever trampled the grass on its margin or muddied
its pure waters; not even a floating leaf had ruffled its calm surface.
When Narcissus knelt on the lush grass at the pool's edge and looked
down into the clear water, he was surprised to see a beautiful face
gazing up at him from the depth of the pool. He leaned nearer, and
the face did not withdraw, but seemed to approach his own. Then he
put out his arms to the water-nymph who, he believed, was returning
his advances, and he was delighted to see two white arms stretched
out as if to clasp him in their embrace. But as soon as he attempted
to grasp them, there was only the cool water in his hands, and the
nymph had vanished. When the surface of the pool had grown clear again,
and Narcissus leaned anxiously over it to see what had become of this
baffling maiden, there she was still, gazing at him with her beautiful
eyes. Again and again Narcissus strove to embrace her, but she eluded
his eager arms, and each time he clasped only the unsubstantial water.
Maddened by these repeated defeats, he spoke reproachfully to the
water-nymph, and asked her why she thus tormented him; but though the
lovely mouth so near his own seemed to move as if framing words, no
answer came to his appeal.
Each day Narcissus sought the forest pool, and each day he found the
nymph ready to return his smiles and fond looks, but always escaping
from his touch. By and by he spent all his time beside her, and cared
for nothing else than to gaze beseechingly into the lovely eyes that
looked into his own with the same fever of longing. Absorbed in the
adoration of this strange being who seemed so responsive to his passion
and yet so unwilling to allow him near, he forgot to eat or sleep,
and became only a wan shadow of his former self. The nymph, too, was
pining away with hopeless love, for her face grew pale and thin, and
the deep-shadowed eyes were full of sadness. Sometimes Narcissus slept
from sheer exhaustion; but when the moonlight fell on the calm water,
he would wake with a start and look anxiously to see whether the nymph
was sharing his weary vigil. And always he found her waiting there
in the cool depths of the pool. Finally he grew so sick with longing
that he died of his hopeless love without ever knowing that it was no
water-nymph whom he adored, but only his own reflection. The gods,
believing that such devotion should not go unrecognized, changed him
into a white flower which bears his name; and this is usually found
blooming beside some clear lake or tiny crystal pool.
II. Pyramus and Thisbe
In far-off Babylon there dwelt a youth and maiden whose families lived
in adjoining houses with a party-wall between the two estates. As
the heads of these households were sworn enemies, in spite of their
proximity, the wall was made so high that no one could climb over it,
much less see what was on the other side. The maiden Thisbe, as she
walked in her garden, often wondered who it was whose feet she could
hear pacing up and down along the wall; and one day she was delighted
to find a small crack in the masonry which enabled her to peep into
the adjoining garden. About this time young Pyramus was planning some
way to scale the wall, when he, too, discovered the same chink; and
when he peered cautiously through it, he found to his great joy that
there was a sweet-faced maiden standing near, who hastened to assure
him that she did not share in the family feud. This acquaintance soon
ripened into friendship, and Pyramus and Thisbe spent many hours
standing patiently by the chink in the wall, which was the only way in
which they could exchange confidences. Soon they grew dissatisfied with
this meager allowance of space in which to see each other, for by this
time they had become so much in love that the tender whispers breathed
through the broken wall only made them long to be together without this
cruel barrier between them.
So they planned to steal away from their watchful parents on a certain
night, and meet just outside the city walls at Ninus's tomb, where a
great white mulberry tree would hide them in its protecting shadow.
Accordingly, at the appointed hour, the trembling Thisbe wrapped
herself closely in her veil and crept out of the house. Finding that
she had come first to the trysting-place, she waited under the mulberry
tree, and idly watched the moonlight shining on a broad pool that lay
close to Ninus's tomb. Suddenly a lioness stole out of the bushes,
her mouth bloody with the recent gorging of oxen, and slunk down to
the pool to drink. Thisbe, terrified at the sight of the creature's
dripping jaws, fled into a near-by cave for refuge; but in her fright
she let fall her silken veil, and it dropped on the ground near the
tree.
The lioness having drunk her fill walked over to the tree and sniffed
curiously at the bit of silk, then worried at it with her bloody teeth,
as a dog plays with a rag. Just as the lioness departed, Pyramus
came hurrying to the trysting-place, and seeing Thisbe's torn and
blood-stained veil and the print of the lioness's feet on the ground,
he was beside himself with remorse and horror. Being certain that his
beloved had been torn to pieces by some wild beast, he cursed his own
carelessness in letting her come first to a spot so full of dangers.
Then he drew his sword, exclaiming that he no longer wished to live now
that Thisbe was dead. He called upon the mulberry tree to bear witness
to his oath of undying devotion, and then fell heroically upon his
sword, uttering the name of Thisbe with his last breath. As his blood
gushed out upon the ground at the foot of the tree, the earth absorbed
it so quickly that the white fruit of the tree turned a deep purple,
and its juice became like drops of crimson blood.
All this time Thisbe was hiding safely in the cave, and when she at
length ventured out, she gazed fearfully around to be sure that no
lioness was lying in wait to devour her. When she reached the spot
where she hoped to meet her lover, what was her terror and dismay to
find him stretched dead upon the ground with her veil held close to his
parted lips. Realizing what had happened, and that it was too late now
to convince him of his terrible mistake, Thisbe knelt down beside him
and vainly strove to bring him back to life. Finding this useless, she
seized Pyramus's sword and plunged it into her heart determined to die
with him. As she sank forward on her lover's lifeless body, she prayed
the gods to have pity on her great love and to allow her to be buried
in the same tomb with her beloved Pyramus. The gods heard her dying
prayer and answered it by making the hard hearts of the parents relent
so far that they consented to bury the lovers together. A costly tomb
was erected over them as a fitting monument to these two unfortunates
whom life so cruelly divided.[25]
III. Hero and Leander
In the town of Sestus on the Hellespont lived a beautiful maiden
named Hero, who was a priestess in the temple of Venus. Most of her
time was spent in the service of the goddess; but when these hours of
attendance were over, and she was free to leave the temple, Hero was
glad to seek her own dwelling-place, which was a lonely tower on the
cliffs overlooking the sea. Here the maiden loved to sit, watching the
white-winged gulls as they skimmed over the waves, or listening to the
breakers as they dashed angrily against the rocks at the foot of her
tower. The beauty of Hero was famed throughout the country-side; and
many a youth sought the temple of Venus at festival time under the
pretext of honoring the goddess, but really to gaze upon the lovely
young priestess. Among those most eager to see the maiden was Leander,
a youth who lived in a town just across the Hellespont and within
sight of Hero's tower. When he joined the solemn procession that came
to do homage to Venus, he saw the beautiful priestess and determined
to win her in spite of the many restrictions that forbade even an
acquaintance with one dedicated to the temple. Ignoring the thought of
the inevitable punishment that would be meted out to him if his rash
presumption were known, Leander managed to find an opportunity to speak
with Hero and to tell her of his love.
At first she would not listen to his pleading; but at last she was won
by the sincerity of his words, and consented to disregard her sacred
vows by receiving him in her tower. Leander did not dare to visit her
until nightfall; and as he would have to swim across the Hellespont in
the darkness, Hero promised to put a light in her tower so that he
might have some beacon to guide him as he breasted the uncertain sea.
When night came and Leander stood impatiently on the shore, waiting
for the promised signal, suddenly a torch blazed in the distance, and
he knew that Hero was awaiting him in her lonely tower. He plunged
fearlessly into the waves; and though the current was swift, he struck
out boldly and was carried out of its dangerous grip. Now and then he
looked up to where the light was still burning, and his heart beat fast
with hope when he saw it grow larger and brighter as he neared the
land. At last he reached the rocks at the foot of the tower and was
soon standing beside the trembling Hero, who had feared each moment to
see him sink beneath the waves.
The lovers were so happy in being together that each night Leander swam
across the treacherous sea, and Hero placed her torch in the tower
to light him on his perilous journey. All summer they lived in this
idyllic happiness, but when winter came with its storms and its icy
hand, Hero feared for her lover's safety and begged him not to venture
into the sea. Leander laughed however at her fears and continued to
brave the narrow stretch of water that lay between his home and Hero's
tower. The wind often beat him out of his path, and the icy water
numbed his limbs; but he kept bravely on, with his eyes fixed on the
welcoming light. One morning a fierce storm broke over the sea, and
increased in fury through the day, so that by night the waves were
lashing themselves madly against the rocks, and the wind beat the
sea-gulls back to land. Hero dreaded the approach of that hour when
Leander would start on his nightly journey, for she knew that he would
not hesitate to risk his life in the maddened sea for the sake of being
beside her.
When the time came for her to light the torch, she did so reluctantly,
hoping that Leander would not come. On the opposite shore stood the
impatient lover, waiting for the accustomed signal, and when it blazed
out into the night, he plunged boldly into the waves. But now the
sea was too strong even for his experienced arms, and the huge waves
tossed him about as though he were so much foam. The wind and rain
beat upon his defenseless body, and the cold sea gripped him in its
deadly embrace. He struggled bravely to make some headway, and called
upon the gods for help; but his cries were drowned in the howling of
the storm. His strength began to fail as he fought desperately with
the current,--grown terrible in its swiftness,--but now and then he
lifted his head weakly above the waves to see whether Hero's torch was
still burning. Just as he was making a last heroic effort to reach
the land, a sudden gust of wind blew out the light; and seeing this,
Leander with a despairing cry, gave up his unequal battle and sank down
into the sea. The next morning when Hero, anxious and fearful, stood
on the rocks at the foot of the tower, she saw Leander's body, which
had been tossed there in wanton cruelty by the waves. Unable to endure
this sight, and not wishing to live any longer now that her lover had
perished, Hero threw herself into the sea; and when the tardy fishermen
came to launch their boats on the furious waves, they found the
white-robed body of the young priestess lying dead beside her faithful
Leander.[26]
[Illustration: Hero and Leander]
IV. Pygmalion and Galatea
Pygmalion, king of Cyprus, was a sworn bachelor, and had shunned the
society of women for many years. He was also a famous sculptor, and
spent all his leisure hours carving wonderful things out of marble
and ivory. Though he would not deign to admire any living woman, he
had lofty ideals of feminine beauty, and loved to carve statues whose
perfection of form and exquisite grace surpassed any charms that
could be claimed for a flesh-and-blood maiden. Once Pygmalion made a
beautiful ivory statue that was such a marvel of loveliness that even
the sculptor himself became enamored of it, and lavished upon it a
devotion that was hardly consistent with his supposed indifference to
love. This perfect creation he called Galatea, and he treated her with
all the extravagant fondness that a lover bestows upon his mistress.
He brought her presents of quaint seashells and delicately perfumed
flowers, beads, pearls, and the rarest of jewels, and even gayly
colored birds. Sometimes he hung a string of precious stones about her
neck, and draped her white body in softest silks, treating her in every
way as a maiden reluctant to be wooed.
When the festival of Venus was being celebrated, Pygmalion joined in
the procession and placed a rich offering on the goddess's shrine. As
he did so he looked up toward high Olympus and prayed Venus to grant
him a wife like his peerless Galatea. The goddess heard his prayer,
and as the patroness of all true lovers, she inclined with favor to
his wish; so when Pygmalion returned to his home and hastened into the
presence of his adored statue, he was bewildered at the change that
seemed to be coming over it. A beam of sunset light that was streaming
in through the open window had touched the ivory coldness of the statue
and warmed it with a rosy glow that made it look wonderfully soft and
yielding. But this was not all, for as the astonished sculptor stood
wondering at this unexpected answer to his prayer, the beautiful face
of Galatea turned toward him, and the perfect lips parted as if to
speak. Breathlessly Pygmalion watched the statue gradually warming
into life, and when he was at last assured that it was no longer a
piece of unresponsive ivory, but a breathing, blushing maiden, he knelt
adoringly at her feet and besought her to be his queen.[27]