THE SIX POMEGRANATE SEEDS
Demeter, the goddess of the earth, was often to be seen in the fields
in springtime. As the Greek peasants sowed their seed they caught
glimpses of her long yellow hair while she moved now here, now there,
among them. It almost seemed to these simple folk as though already
the bare fields were golden with the glory of harvest, so bright
shone the yellow hair of the goddess. Then they smiled hopefully one
to the other, knowing well that Demeter would give them a bounteous
reaping-time.
In the autumn she was in the fields again, the peasants even dreamed
that they saw her stoop to bind the sheaves. Certainly she had been
known to visit their barns when the harvest was safely garnered. And
stranger still, it was whispered among the womenfolk that the great
Earth-Mother had entered their homes, had stood close beside them as
they baked bread to feed their hungry households.
It was in the beautiful island of Sicily, which lies in the
Mediterranean Sea, that the goddess had her home. Here she dwelt with
her daughter Persephone, whom she loved more dearly than words can tell.
Persephone was young and fair, so fair that she seemed as one of the
spring flowers that leaped into life when her mother touched the earth
with her gracious hands.
[Illustration: Sweet, piercing sweet was the music of Pan’s pipe]
Early as the dawn the maiden was in the fields with Demeter, to gather
violets while the dew still lay upon them, to dance and sing with her
playmates. At other times she would move gravely by the side of her
mother to help her in her quiet labours.
All this time, Pluto, King of Hades, was living in his gloomy kingdom
underground, longing for some fair maiden to share his throne. But
there was not one who was willing to leave the glad light of the sun,
no, not though Pluto offered her the most brilliant gems in his kingdom.
One day the dark king came up out of the shadows, riding in his chariot
of gold, drawn by immortal horses. Swifter was their pace than that of
any mortal steeds.
Persephone was in a meadow with her playfellows when the king drew
near. The maiden stood knee-deep amid the meadow-grass, and, stooping,
plucked the fragrant sweet flowers all around her--hyacinth, lilies,
roses, and pale violets.
Pluto saw the group of happy maidens, beautiful each one as a day in
spring, but it was Persephone who charmed him more than any other.
‘She shall be my queen and share my throne,’ muttered the gloomy king
to himself. Then, for he knew that to woo the maiden would be vain,
Pluto seized Persephone in his arms, and bore her weeping to his
chariot.
Swift as an arrow the immortal steeds sped from the meadow, where
Persephone’s playmates were left terror-stricken and dismayed.
On and on flew the chariot. Pluto was in haste to reach Hades ere
Demeter should miss her daughter.
A river lay across his path, but of this the king recked naught, for
his steeds would bear him across without so much as lessening their
speed.
But as the chariot drew near, the waters began to rise as though driven
by a tempest. Soon they were lashed to such fury that Pluto saw that it
was vain to hope to cross to the other side. So he seized his sceptre,
and in a passion he struck three times upon the ground. At once a great
chasm opened in the earth, and down into the darkness plunged the
horses. A moment more and Pluto was in his own kingdom, Persephone by
his side.
When the king seized the maiden in the meadow, and bore her to his
chariot, she had cried aloud to Zeus, her father, to save her. But Zeus
had made no sign, nor had any heard save Hecate, a mysterious goddess,
whose face was half hidden by a veil.
None other heard, yet her piteous cry echoed through the hills and
woods, until at length the faint echo reached the ear of Demeter.
A great pain plucked at the heart of the mother as she heard, and
throwing the blue hood from off her shoulders, and loosening her long
yellow hair, Demeter set forth, swift as a bird, to seek for Persephone
until she found her.
To her own home first she hastened, for there, she thought, she might
find some trace of the child she loved so well. But the rooms were
desolate as ‘an empty bird’s nest or an empty fold.’
The mother’s eyes searched eagerly in every corner, but nothing met her
gaze save the embroidery Persephone had been working, ‘a gift against
the return of her mother, with labour all to be in vain.’ It lay as
she had flung it down in careless mood, and over it crept a spider,
spinning his delicate web across the maiden’s unfinished work.
For nine days Demeter wandered up and down the earth, carrying blazing
torches in her hands. Her sorrow was so great that she would neither
eat nor drink, no, not even ambrosia, or a cup of sweet nectar, which
are the meat and drink of the gods. Nor would she wash her face. On the
tenth day Hecate came towards her, but she had only heard the voice of
the maiden, and could not tell Demeter who had carried her away.
Onward sped the unhappy mother, sick at heart for hope unfulfilled,
onward until she reached the sun. Here she learned that it was Pluto
who had stolen her daughter, and carried her away to his gloomy
kingdom.
Then in her despair Demeter left all her duties undone, and a terrible
famine came upon the earth. ‘The dry seed remained hidden in the soil;
in vain the oxen drew the ploughshare through the furrows.’
As the days passed the misery of the people grew greater and greater,
until faint and starving they came to Demeter, and besought her once
again to bless the earth.
But sorrow had made the heart of the goddess hard, and she listened
unmoved to the entreaties of the hungry folk, saying only that until
her daughter was found she could not care for their griefs.
Long, weary days Demeter journeyed over land and sea to seek for
Persephone, but at length she came back to Sicily.
One day as she walked along the bank of a river, the water gurgled
gladly, and a little wave carried a girdle almost to her feet.
Demeter stooped to pick it up, and lo! it was the girdle that
Persephone had worn on the day that she had been carried away. The
maiden had flung it into the river as the chariot had plunged into the
abyss, hoping that it might reach her mother. The girdle could not help
Demeter to recover her daughter, yet how glad she was to have it, how
safe she treasured it!
At length, broken-hearted indeed, Demeter went to Zeus to beg him to
give her back her daughter. ‘If she returns the people shall again have
food and plenteous harvests,’ she cried. And the god, touched with the
grief of the mother and the sore distress of the people, promised that
Persephone should come back to earth, if she had eaten no food while
she had lived in the gloomy kingdom of Hades.
No words can tell the joy with which Demeter hastened to Hades. Here
she found her daughter with no smile upon her sweet face, but only
tears of desire for her mother and the dear light of the sun. But alas!
that very day Persephone had eaten six pomegranate seeds. For every
seed that she had eaten she was doomed to spend a month each year
with Pluto. But for the other six months, year after year, mother and
daughter would dwell together, and as they clung to one another they
were joyous and content.
So for six glad months each year Demeter rejoiced, for her daughter was
by her side, and ever it was spring and summer while Persephone dwelt
on earth. But when the time came for her to return to Hades, Demeter
grew ever cold and sad, and the earth too became weary and grey. It was
autumn and winter in the world until Persephone returned once more.
[Illustration: Demeter rejoiced, for her daughter was by her side]