A Guide to Mythology

by Helen A. Clarke

STORY OF ARACHNE AND ATHĒNE

(Greek: After Ovid)

There was once a beautiful maiden, named Arachne, who was so accomplished in the arts of carding and spinning, of weaving and embroidery, that the nymphs themselves would leave their groves and fountains to come and gaze upon her work. It was not only beautiful when it was done, but beautiful also in the doing. To watch her one would have said that Athēne herself had taught her. But this she denied, and could not bear to be thought even a pupil of a goddess. “Let Athēne try her skill with mine,” she said; “if beaten I will pay the penalty.”

Athēne heard this and was much displeased. Assuming the form of an old woman, she appeared to Arachne, and kindly advised her to challenge her fellow mortals if she would, but at once to ask forgiveness of the goddess. Arachne bade the old dame to keep her counsel for others. “I am not afraid of the goddess. Let her try her skill if she dare venture.” “She comes,” said Athēne, and dropping her disguise stood confessed. The nymphs bent low in homage, and all the bystanders paid reverence. Arachne alone was unterrified. A sudden color dyed her cheeks, and then she grew pale; but she stood to her resolve, and rushed on her fate. They proceed to the contest. Each takes her station and attaches the web to the beam. Then the slender shuttle is passed in and out among the threads. The reed with its fine teeth strikes up the woof into its place, and compacts the web. Wool of Tyrian dye is contrasted with that of other colors, shaded off into one another so adroitly that the joining deceives the eye. And the effect is like the bow whose long arch tinges the heavens, formed by sunbeams reflected from the shower, in which, when the colors meet, they seem as one, but at a little distance from the point of contact are wholly different.

Athēne. Glyptothek, Munich.

Athēne wrought on her web the scene of her contest with Posidon. Twelve of the heavenly powers were represented, Zeus with august gravity sitting in the midst. Posidon, the ruler of the sea, held his trident, and appeared to have just smitten the earth, from which a horse had leaped forth. The bright-eyed goddess depicted herself with helmeted head, her ægis covering her breast, as when she had created the olive tree, with its berries and its dark green leaves. But the most astonishing example of her skill appeared in a butterfly, so beautiful that only a poet can describe it properly. Listen to the charming description of the poet Spenser:

Amongst these leaves she made a Butterfly,

With excellent device and wondrous slight;

Fluttering among the olives wantonly,

That seemed to live, so like it was in sight;

The velvet nap which on his wings doth lie,

The silken down with which his back is dight;

His broad outstretchèd horns, his hairy thighs,

His glorious colors, and his glistening eyes.

Which when Arachne saw, as overlaid

And masterèd with workmanship so rare,

She stood astonished long, ne aught gainsaid;

And with fast fixèd eyes on her did stare.

Such was the central circle of Athēne’s web; and in the four corners were represented incidents illustrating the displeasure of the gods at such presumptuous mortals as had dared to contend with them. These were meant as warnings from Athēne to her rival to give up the contest before it was too late.

But Arachne did not yield. She filled her web with subjects designedly chosen to exhibit the failings and errors of the gods, wonderfully well done, but strongly marking her presumption and impiety. Athēne could not forbear to admire, yet was indignant at the insult. She struck the web with her shuttle, and rent it in pieces; then, touching the forehead of Arachne, she made her realize her guilt. It was more than mortal could bear; and forthwith Arachne hanged herself. “Live, guilty woman,” said Athēne, “but that thou mayest preserve the memory of this lesson, continue to hang, both thou and thy descendants, to all future times.” Then sprinkling her with the juices of aconite, the goddess transformed her into a spider, forever spinning the thread by which she is suspended.

CHAPTER IV
TREE AND PLANT MYTHS

To primitive man, trees and plants seemed as mysterious as animals, and there are many myths which tell of the descent of mankind from trees, and many cases in which plants were totems instead of animals. Among various Indian tribes who had such a belief may be mentioned the Miztecs, who declared they were descended from two majestic trees that stood in the gorge of the mountain of Apiola. The Chiapanecas thought they sprang from the roots of a silk cotton tree. The Tamaraquas of South America have a tradition that the human race sprang from the fruits of the date palm after the Mexican age of water. Passing half way round the world to the Damaras of South Africa we find still more remarkable qualities attributed to the first tree. “In the beginning,” they say, “there was a tree, and out of this tree came Damaras, Bushmen (the wildest of South African tribes), oxen and zebras. The Damaras lit a fire which frightened away the Bushmen and the zebras, but the oxen remained. Hence it is that Bushmen and wild beasts live together in all sorts of inaccessible places, but the Damaras and oxen possess the land.”

Even in Greek mythology, the idea of descent from trees had not quite died out, for we read in the “Odyssey” that Penelope says to Odysseus, while still in the disguise of a beggar, so that she does not recognize him, “Now, I pray, declare thy lineage, for thou surely art not sprung from the old fabulous oak nor from the rock.”

The oak was regarded with very great reverence by the Greeks. They declared it to be the first tree that grew upon the earth, its acorns being the earliest food of man. There is an interesting story to the effect that the Deluge was due to quarrels between Zeus (Jupiter) and Hera (Juno), and when the waters subsided an oaken statue emerged supposed to be a symbol of peace between the king of gods and his consort.

When the imagination begins to sprout a little more the savage invents a story telling how the first men and animals were made out of trees by some divinity. Thus Glooskap, the Algonquin divinity, made man in this way: “He took his bow and arrows and shot at trees, the basket tree, the ash. Then Indians came out of the bark of the ash trees.” In Norse mythology there is a similar legend, according to which there were no intelligent men on earth until there came three mighty and benevolent gods to the world. Men had no sense, nor blood, nor motive powers, nor goodly color. Odin gave spirit, Haemir gave sense, and Lodur gave blood by bestowing it upon the senseless ashes and elms.

The worship of trees is told of in stories from one end of the world to the other.

The Ainos of Japan have a story that “at the beginning of the world the ground was so hot that the creatures called men even got their feet burnt. For this reason no tree or herb could grow. The only herb that grew at that time was the mugwort. Of trees the only ones were the oak and pine. For this reason these two trees are the oldest among trees. This being so, these two trees are divine; they are trees which human beings worship.”

They also believe in a mystic pine tree made of metal which grew at the head of the world, against which the swords of the gods broke and bent where they attacked it. The Japanese god, Izanagi, repels the eight thunder gods in the infernal regions by throwing at them the three fruits of the peach tree that grew at the entrance of the level pass of the dark world.

There is also a Chinese peach tree of the gods which grows near the palace of Si Wang Mu, the West Queen Mother. Its fruit of immortality ripens once in thirteen thousand years and gives three thousand years of life to the eater. Tung Fang So stole three and lived nine thousand years.

The Hindoos have more than one marvellous mythical tree. According to the “Rig Veda,” the god Brahma himself was a tree and all the other gods are considered branches of the divine parent stem. There is also a supernatural tree sacred to Buddha. This cloud tree is the tree of knowledge and wisdom and is covered with divine flowers. It glows and sparkles with the brilliance of all manner of precious stones. The root, the trunk, the branches, and the leaves are formed of gems of the most glorious description. It grows in soil pure and delightfully even to which the rich verdure of grass imparts the tints of a peacock’s neck. This tree receives the homage of the gods. The arm of Maya, the mother of Buddha, when she stretches it forth to grasp the bough which bends toward her shines as the lightning illumines the sky. Beneath this tree Buddha, at whose birth a flash of light pierced through all the world, sat down with the firm resolve not to rise until he had attained the knowledge which maketh free. Then the tempter Mara advanced with his demoniacal forces. Encircling the sacred tree, hosts of demons assailed Buddha with fiery darts, amid the whirl of hurricanes, darkness and the downpour of floods of water, to drive him from the tree.

Buddha, however, maintained his position unmoved and at length the demons were compelled to fly.

Still another marvellous tree is that of the Persians. It is called the Haoma. It is the sacred vine of the Zoroastrians, which produces the primal drink of immortality, after which it is named. It is the first of all trees, planted in heaven by Ormuzd in the fountain of life. Near this tree grows another, called the “impassive” or “inviolable,” which bears the seeds of every kind of vegetable life. Both these trees are situated in a lake and guarded by ten fish, who keep a ceaseless watch upon a lizard sent by the evil power, Ahriman, to destroy the sacred Haoma. The inviolable tree is also known both as the eagle’s and the owl’s tree. Either one or the other of these birds sits perched upon the top. The moment he rises from the tree a thousand branches shoot forth; when he settles again, he breaks a thousand branches, and causes their seed to fall. Another bird, his constant companion, picks up these seeds and carries them to where the god Tistar draws water, which he then rains down upon the earth with the seeds it contains.