ARACHNE

Adapted from Favorite Greek Myths by Lillian Stoughton Hyde

Arachne lived in a small village on the shores of the Mediterranean.

Her parents were very poor. While her mother was busy cooking the
simple meals for the family or working in the fields, Arachne used to
spin tapestries all day long. Her wheel made a steady hum like the
buzzing of some insect. She grew so skillful from constant practice,
that the threads she drew out were almost as thin as the mists that
rose from the sea nearby. The neighbors used to hint, sometimes, that
such fine-spun threads were rather useless, and that it might be better
if Arachne would help her mother more and spin less.

One day Arachne’s father, who was a fisherman, came home with his
baskets full of little shellfish, which were of a bright crimson or purple
color. He thought the color of the little fish was so pretty that he tried
the experiment of dyeing Arachne’s wool with them. The result was
the most brilliant color that had ever been seen in any kind of woven
fabric. This was the color which was afterward called Tyrian purple, —
or sometimes it was called royal purple, because kings liked to wear
it. After this, Arachne’s tapestries always showed some touch of the
new color. Everyone wanted to buy the tapestries, and, in fact,
Arachne soon became famous.

Arachne’s family soon exchanged their little home for a much larger
house. Her mother did not have to work in the fields anymore, nor was
her father any longer required to go out in his boat to catch fish.
Arachne, herself, became as famous as her tapestries. She heard
admiring words on every side, and she became full of herself. When, as
often happened, people praised the beautiful color that had been
produced by the little shellfish, she did not tell how her father had
helped her but took all the credit to herself.

While she was weaving, a group of people often stood behind her loom,
watching the pictures grow. One day she overheard someone say that
even the great goddess, Athena, the patron goddess of spinning and
weaving, could not weave more beautiful tapestries than this ordinary
fisherman’s daughter. This was a very foolish thing to say, but Arachne
thought it was true. She heard another say that Arachne wove so
beautifully that she must have been taught by Athena herself. Now, the
truth is, that Athena had taught Arachne. It was Athena who had sent
the little shellfish to those coasts; and, although she never allowed
herself to be seen, she often stood behind the girl and guided her
shuttle. But Arachne, never having seen the goddess, thought she
owed everything to herself alone and began to boast of her skill.

One day she said: “It has been said that I can weave quite as well, if
not better, than the goddess Athena. I would like to have a weaving
competition with her, and then it would be seen who is the best.”

These sharp words had hardly left Arachne’s mouth before she heard
the sound of a crutch on the floor. Turning to look behind her, she saw
a feeble old woman wearing a dirty gray veil. The woman’s eyes were
as gray as her veil and strangely bright and clear for one so old. She
leaned heavily on her cane, and when she spoke, her voice was
cracked and weak. “I am many years older than you,” she said. “Take
my advice. Ask Athena for forgiveness for your ungrateful words. If you
are truly sorry, she will forgive

you.” Now Arachne had never been very respectful to old persons,
particularly when they wore dirty veils, and she was very angry at
being lectured by this old woman. “You can’t tell me what I should do,”
she said. “Go and advise your own children. I shall say and do what I
please.”

At this, an angry light came into the old woman’s gray eyes. Her cane
suddenly changed to a shining spear. She dropped her veil and there
stood the goddess herself. Arachne’s face grew very red, and then very
white, but she would not ask Athena for forgiveness, even then.
Instead, she said that she was ready for a weaving competition. So,
two weaving frames were brought in and attached to one of the beams
overhead. Then Athena and foolish Arachne stood side by side, and
each began to weave a piece of tapestry. As Athena wove, her
tapestry began to show pictures of mortals who had been irresponsible
and boastful, like Arachne, and who had been punished by the gods. It
was meant for a kindly warning to Arachne. But Arachne would not
heed the warning. She wove into her tapestry pictures representing
certain foolish things that the gods of Olympus had done. This was
very disrespectful, and it is no wonder that when Arachne’s tapestry
was finished, Athena tore it to pieces.

Arachne was frightened now, but it was too late. Athena suddenly
struck her on the forehead with her shuttle. Then Arachne shrank to a
little creature no larger than one’s thumb. “Since you think yourself so
very skillful in spinning and weaving,” said Athena, “you shall do
nothing else but spin and weave all your life.” Upon this Arachne, in
her new shape, ran quickly into the first dark corner she could find.
She was now compelled to earn her living by spinning webs of
exceeding fineness, in which she caught many flies, just as her father
had caught fish in his nets. She was called the Spinner. The children of
this first little spinner have become very numerous, but their old name
of spinner has been changed to that of spider. Their delicate webs,
which are as mist-like as any of Arachne’s weaving, often cover the
grass on a dewy morning.