  Upon a hill in the land of Phrygia stands a thousand year old oak, and close by it a linden of the same age, both surrounded by a low wall. Many a wreath has been hung upon the boughs of the neighborly pair. Not far from them extends a swampy lake into which empties a shallow stream. Where in former times people dwelt, now only herons and ducks rove about. Once Father Zeus came to this spot with his son Hermes carrying only his wand, but not his winged cap. They were seeking hospitality in human form. They knocked at a thousand doors praying shelter for the night. But the people were so disobliging that the heavenly visitants could not anywhere find lodging. At the end of the village was a hut, humble and small, covered with straw and rushes. In this poor house lived a happy couple, honest Philemon and Baucis, his wife, of the same age. They had spent their joyous youth together there, and there they had grown white-haired. They made no complaint of their poverty, but quietly bore their hard lot, united in love, and although childless, they were content in the mean little house which they alone occupied together. As the high deities approached this humble roof and entered the low passageway with bowed heads, the honest couple met them with a hearty greeting. The old man placed seats for them, and Baucis, clad in a coarse dress, begged them to rest themselves. The little mother busied herself about the hearth, stirred up the ashes, piled up dry leaves and brushwood, and kindled a fire. Then she brought split wood and placed it under the little kettle hanging over the fire. In the meantime Philemon brought cabbage from his well-watered garden, deftly unleaved it, took down a side of smoked pork with his two-tined fork from the ceiling, and cut a huge piece from the shoulder to put into the boiling water. That the time might not seem too long to the strangers, they exerted themselves to entertain them with light conversation. They also poured water into the wooden tub so that they could enjoy a foot bath. Smiling in a friendly way, the gods accepted these proffers, and while they were stretching their feet comfortably in the water their gracious host prepared the couch-bed, which stood in the middle of the room. The cushions were stuffed with rushes and the feet and frame were made of woven willow. Philemon brought carpetings which were only kept for feast days,—how old and poor they were!—and the divine guests prepared to enjoy the meal which was now ready. The little mother, in her neat apron, placed with trembling hands the three-legged table before the couch, and as it would not stand very securely, she raised it slightly by placing something under it. Then she rubbed the plates with fresh mint and food was set before them. There were olives, cornelian cherries, preserved in clear thick sirup, also radishes, endives, fine cheese, and eggs cooked in the ashes. Baucis brought all these in earthen dishes, besides a showily colored pitcher and neat cups of beechwood, glazed on the inside with yellow wax, filled with milk, for they had no wine. Nuts, figs, and dates were brought for desert, and two dishes filled with plums and spicy apples. In the middle of the table was a whitish honeycomb. But the finest seasoning of the meal was the good friendly faces of the honest old couple, testifying to their honesty and generosity. As all were enjoying the food and drink, Philemon observed that the pitcher contained wine instead of milk and that in spite of emptying of the cups they were continually refilled. Then he recognized with surprise and fear whom he was entertaining. In distress he flew to his old companion with upraised arms and downcast eyes and implored her to know what they should offer to their heavenly guests. Suddenly it occurred to them that they might offer their only goose. Both ran out, but the goose was faster than they. Hissing and flapping its wings, it ran here and there, outdistancing the old people. Finally it ran into the house and crouched behind the guests, as if seeking divine protection. And it did not seek in vain. The guests restrained the ardor of the old people and said with a laugh: “We are gods who have come to earth to test the generosity of men. We found your neighbors wicked and they shall be punished. But you shall leave this house and follow us to the summit of the mountain, so that you shall not suffer with the guilty ones.” Both obeyed, and leaning upon their staffs they wearisomely climbed the mountain. They were not an arrow’s flight from the highest peak when they anxiously looked down and saw the whole place changed into a raging waste of waters, and of all the houses only their own little one remained. While they stood astonished and bewailed the fate of the others, behold the poor old hut towered above the waters as a temple. A golden roof was supported on its columns and its floors were of marble. Zeus turned to the trembling old people and said: “Tell me, honest old man and worthy wife of the honest old man, what do you most wish?” Philemon exchanged a few words with his wife and then said: “We would be your priests. Permit us to serve in that temple. And as we have so long lived together, let us die at the same hour. Then I shall never see the grave of my dear wife nor will she have to bury me.” Their wish was granted. As long as they lived they served in the temple. And once, when weary with the weight of age and years, they were standing on the sacred steps, thinking of their wonderful fate, Baucis saw her Philemon and Philemon his Baucis disappearing and floating away to the distant height. “Farewell, dear one. Farewell, beloved one,” said each as long as they could speak. Thus ended the worthy pair. He was turned into an oak and she into a linden, and thus they remained as close together in death as they had been in life. Goodness is prized by the gods. They bestow honors upon those who prove themselves worthy. |
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