One of the heroes of the Argonautic expedition was Meleager, son
of OEneus and Althea, king and queen of Calydon. Althea, when her
son was born, beheld the three destinies, who, as they spun their
fatal thread, foretold that the life of the child should last no
longer than a brand then burning upon the hearth. Althea seized
and quenched the brand, and carefully preserved it for years,
while Meleager grew to boyhood, youth, and manhood. It chanced,
then, that OEneus, as he offered sacrifices to the gods, omitted
to pay due honors to Diana; and she, indignant at the neglect,
sent a wild boar of enormous size to lay waste the fields of
Calydon. Its eyes shone with blood and fire, its bristles stood
like threatening spears, its tusks were like those of Indian
elephants. The growing corn was trampled, the vines and olive
trees laid waste, the flocks and herds were driven in wild
confusion by the slaughtering foe. All common aid seemed vain; but
Meleager called on the heroes of Greece to join in a bold hunt for
the ravenous monster. Theseus and his friend Pirithous, Jason,
Peleus, afterwards the father of Achilles, Telamon the father of
Ajax, Nestor, then a youth, but who in his age bore arms with
Achilles and Ajax in the Trojan war,--these and many more joined
in the enterprise. With them came Atalanta, the daughter of
Iasius, king of Arcadia. A buckle of polished gold confined her
vest, an ivory quiver hung on her left shoulder, and her left hand
bore the bow. Her face blent feminine beauty with the best graces
of martial youth. Meleager saw and loved.
But now already they were near the monster's lair. They stretched
strong nets from tree to tree; they uncoupled their dogs, they
tried to find the footprints of their quarry in the grass. From
the wood was a descent to marshy ground. Here the boar, as he lay
among the reeds, heard the shouts of his pursuers, and rushed
forth against them. One and another is thrown down and slain.
Jason throws his spear, with a prayer to Diana for success; and
the favoring goddess allows the weapon to touch, but not to wound,
removing the steel point of the spear in its flight. Nestor,
assailed, seeks and finds safety in the branches of a tree.
Telamon rushes on, but stumbling at a projecting root, falls
prone. But an arrow from Atalanta at length for the first time
tastes the monster's blood. It is a slight wound, but Meleager
sees and joyfully proclaims it. Anceus, excited to envy by the
praise given to a female, loudly proclaims his own valor, and
defies alike the boar and the goddess who had sent it; but as he
rushes on, the infuriated beast lays him low with a mortal wound.
Theseus throws his lance, but it is turned aside by a projecting
bough. The dart of Jason misses its object, and kills instead one
of their own dogs. But Meleager, after one unsuccessful stroke,
drives his spear into the monster's side, then rushes on and
despatches him with repeated blows.
Then rose a shout from those around; they congratulated the
conqueror, crowding to touch his hand. He, placing his foot upon
the head of the slain boar, turned to Atalanta and bestowed on her
the head and the rough hide which were the trophies of his
success. But at this, envy excited the rest to strife. Plexippus
and Toxeus, the brothers of Meleager's mother, beyond the rest
opposed the gift, and snatched from the maiden the trophy she had
received. Meleager, kindling with rage at the wrong done to
himself, and still more at the insult offered to her whom he
loved, forgot the claims of kindred, and plunged his sword into
the offenders' hearts.
As Althea bore gifts of thankfulness to the temples for the
victory of her son, the bodies of her murdered brothers met her
sight. She shrieks, and beats her breast, and hastens to change
the garments of rejoicing for those of mourning. But when the
author of the deed is known, grief gives way to the stern desire
of vengeance on her son. The fatal brand, which once she rescued
from the flames, the brand which the destinies had linked with
Meleager's life, she brings forth, and commands a fire to be
prepared. Then four times she essays to place the brand upon the
pile; four times draws back, shuddering at the thought of bringing
destruction on her son. The feelings of the mother and the sister
contend within her. Now she is pale at the thought of the proposed
deed, now flushed again with anger at the act of her son. As a
vessel, driven in one direction by the wind, and in the opposite
by the tide, the mind of Althea hangs suspended in uncertainty.
But now the sister prevails above the mother, and she begins as
she holds the fatal wood: "Turn, ye Furies, goddesses of
punishment! turn to behold the sacrifice I bring! Crime must atone
for crime. Shall OEneus rejoice in his victor son, while the house
of Thestius is desolate? But, alas! to what deed am I borne along?
Brothers forgive a mother's weakness! my hand fails me. He
deserves death, but not that I should destroy him. But shall he
then live, and triumph, and reign over Calydon, while you, my
brothers, wander unavenged among the shades? No! thou hast lived
by my gift; die, now, for thine own crime. Return the life which
twice I gave thee, first at thy birth, again when I snatched this
brand from the flames. O that thou hadst then died! Alas! evil is
the conquest; but, brothers, ye have conquered." And, turning away
her face, she threw the fatal wood upon the burning pile.
It gave, or seemed to give, a deadly groan. Meleager, absent and
unknowing of the cause, felt a sudden pang. He burns, and only by
courageous pride conquers the pain which destroys him. He mourns
only that he perishes by a bloodless and unhonored death. With his
last breath he calls upon his aged father, his brother, and his
fond sisters, upon his beloved Atalanta, and upon his mother, the
unknown cause of his fate. The flames increase, and with them the
pain of the hero. Now both subside; now both are quenched. The
brand is ashes, and the life of Meleager is breathed forth to the
wandering winds.
Althea, when the deed was done, laid violent hands upon herself.
The sisters of Meleager mourned their brother with uncontrollable
grief; till Diana, pitying the sorrows of the house that once had
aroused her anger, turned them into birds.
| 