Previously to the passage which I translate, the writer has been telling the tale of the building of a wonderful tower by king Scelerion of Chios, wherein to guard his daughter Omorfia (Beauty) and three maids of honour with her until such time as he should find a husband worthy of her; how the workmen never left the tower till it was finished; how the master-mason threw down his implements from the top and himself essayed to fly down on wings of his own contrivance, which however failed to work as he had hoped, with the result that he fell into the river below the castle and was drowned; and how his ghost was seen there every first of May at midday. This story, which may be taken as a fair type of the whole ‘history,’ leads, by its mentions of apparitions on May 1st, to the following passage[429]:—
‘They have also another foolish belief, that near the tower are to be seen three youthful women, clothed in white, who invite passers-by to throw themselves into the river and get some cups of gold and silver which by diabolical illusion are seen floating on the water, in the hope that going into the river they may be drowned in a whirlpool called by the Greeks Chiroclacas, the water of which penetrates beneath the mountain as far as the precipice where the princess still shows herself. Further, there is no manner of doubt that the three ladies who appear to the inhabitants of the place are those spirits who make their dwelling in the water, assuming the form of women, and called by the ancients Nereides or Negiardes; the good women are so abused by these illusions that on the first of May they are wont to make crosses on their doors, saying that the goddess of their mountains is due to come and visit them in their houses, and that without this mark she would not come in; likewise they say that she would slay any one who should go to meet her. And so they give her the name of ‘good,’ being obliged by the fear in which they hold her to give her this title of honour. Some people are of opinion that this goddess is one of the Oread nymphs who dwell in the mountains....’
This ‘goddess of the mountains’ whom they call ‘good’ (i.e. probably καλή) is beyond doubt the same who was known to Psellus and to Allatius as ἡ καλὴ τῶν ὀρέων, ‘the beautiful lady of the mountains,’ and to my pastoral informant as ἡ βασίλισσα τῶν βουνῶν, ‘the queen of the mountains’; and in general the conception of her is the same as continues locally to the present day. One statement indeed I cannot explain, namely that the women make crosses on their doors with the purpose of attracting the goddess to their houses; for I have already mentioned the same use of the symbol for the contrary purpose of keeping the Nereids out[430]. Possibly as regards this detail of the ‘foolish belief’ the grand seigneur was wrongly informed. But in other respects, in the close association of the goddess with the Oreads or other nymphs, in the fear which she inspired, in the belief that she slew those who ventured upon her path, the Chian record is in complete agreement with the description which I have given from oral sources. In terror, as in charm, the Nereids’ queen is foremost.
A contrary view however is taken by Bernard Schmidt[431], who states that she is pictured by the commonfolk as gentler and friendlier to man than her companions, and even disposed to check their light and froward ways. On such a point, I freely admit, local tradition might well vary; but in this particular case I am inclined to think that Schmidt fell into the error of confusing the wild-roaming, nymph-escorted goddess of hill and vale and fountain with that other goddess who dwells solitary in the heart of the mountain, dispensing blessings to the good and pains to the wicked, and in the conception of whom we found an aftermath of the ancient crop of legends concerning Demeter and Kore. Surely this grand and lonely figure, ‘the Mistress of the Earth and of the Sea,’ is in every trait different from the lovely, capricious, cruel ‘Queen of the Mountains.’ Indeed the very circumstance of both presentations being known in one and the same district—as, to my own knowledge, in Aetolia, and, on Schmidt’s own showing, in Zacynthos[432]—proves that two divine persons, in type and in character essentially different, are here involved, and not merely two accidental and local differentiations of the same deity. Doubtless in the more ‘civilised’ parts of Greece (to use the word beloved of the half-educated town-bred Greek), in the parts where old beliefs and customs are falling into decay and contempt while nothing good is substituted for them, even the lower classes have lost or are losing count and memory of many of those powers whom their forefathers acknowledged; but in the more favourably sequestered villages, let us say, of Aetolia, where superstition still fears no mockery, no peasant would commit the mistake of confounding his Demeter with his Artemis. Between majestic loneliness and frolicsome throng, between dignified beauty and bewitching loveliness, between gentleness and lightness, between love of good and wanton merriment, between justice and caprice, the gulf is wide.
But while the modern Artemis is the leader of her nymphs in mischief and even in cruelty, it must not be thought that she is always a foe to man. In Aetolia ‘the lady Beautiful’ is quick to avenge a slight or an intrusion; but for those who pay her due reverence she is a ready helper and a giver of good gifts. Health and wealth lie in her hand, to bestow or to withhold, as in the hands of the Nereids. Hence even he whom her sudden anger has once smitten may regain her favour by offerings of honey and other sweetmeats on the scene of his calamity. And probably peace-offerings with less definite intent have been or still are in vogue; for it is reported that presents used to be brought to the cross-roads in Zacynthos at midday or midnight simply to appease ‘the great lady’ and her train[433], a survival surely of the ancient banquets of Hecate surnamed Τριοδῖτις, ‘Goddess of the Cross-roads.’
In some cases hesitation may be felt in pronouncing an opinion whether it is for Artemis and the nymphs or for the Fates[434] (Μοῖραι) that these gifts are intended; and in the category of the doubtful must be included all those cases where the dedication of the offerings is merely to the καλαὶς κυρᾶδες[435], ‘good ladies,’ no further information being vouchsafed. Several writers, including the German Ross and the Greek Pittakis, appear to have assumed without sufficient enquiry that none but the Nereids could be thus designated; but as a matter of fact, the same euphemistic title is occasionally given also to the Fates[436]; and while I incline to trust the experience and judgement of Ross in the general statement which he makes concerning such offerings at Athens, Thebes, and elsewhere[437], the accuracy of Pittakis[438] on the other hand is challenged by the actual spot which he is describing when he identifies the ‘good ladies’ with the Nereids; for the place was none other than the so-called ‘prison of Socrates,’ which the testimony of many travellers concurs in assigning to the Fates.
But, though some of the evidence concerning offerings demands closer scrutiny before it can have any bearing upon the continued belief in the existence of Artemis, there are certainly some corners of Greece in which that goddess is still worshipped. ‘The great lady,’ ‘the Queen of the mountains,’ ‘the lady Beautiful’ are the various titles of a single goddess whose beauty and quick anger have ever since the heroic age held the Greek folk in awe and demanded their reverence; and until the inroads of European civilisation destroy with the weapon of ridicule all that is old in custom and creed, Artemis will continue to hold some sway over hill and stream and woodland.
The other queen, of whom my boatman spoke, ‘the Queen of the Shore,’ she who stands in the shallows and by her beauty and sweet voice entices the unwary to share her bed in the depths of the sea, must I think be identified with a being who is more commonly called ‘the Lamia of the Sea’ or ‘the Lamia of the Shore.’ A popular poem[439] from Salonica, in which these two titles are found side by side, tells of a contest between her and a young shepherd. One day, in disregard of his mother’s warning, he was playing his pipes upon the shore, when the Lamia appeared to him and made a wager with him that she would dance longer than he would go on playing. If he should win, he should have her to wife; if she should win, she was to take all his flocks as the prize. Three days the shepherd played, three whole nights and days; then his strength failed him, and the Lamia took his sheep and goats and left him destitute.
This poem has some points in common with a belief said to be held in the district of Parnassos, that if a young man—especially one who is handsome—play the flute or sing at mid-day or midnight upon the shore, the Lamia thereof emerges from the depths of the sea, and with promises of a happy life tries to persuade him to be her husband and to come with her into the sea; if the young man refuse, she slays him[440]; and presumably, though this is not mentioned, if he consent, she drowns him.