chapter

NARCISSUS AND ECHO

Cast

Girl One One of Narcissus’ admirers

Girl Two One of Narcissus’ admirers

Girl Three One of Narcissus’ admirers

Narcissus Handsomest youth

Echo Chatty nymph

Nymph Woodland nymph

Hera Queen of Heaven

NARRATOR: Narcissus was the most beautiful boy who ever lived. It was said that his mother was a woodland nymph and his father a river god, yet Narcissus was born mortal. His only godlike quality was his unparalleled looks. Wherever he went, girls flocked to him in droves. Although they cried, begged, and pleaded to be his, the boy would have none of them.

NARCISSUS: (sigh) Calm yourselves! What are you? Women or beasts? Give Narcissus some peace and quiet!

NARCISSUS: (haughtily) Ha! That’s a laugh. Just take a look at yourselves! Obviously none of you are worthy of Narcissus. When I meet one whose beauty equals my own, then—and only then—will I love.

NARRATOR: In the region where Narcissus dwelt, there also lived a band of woodland nymphs. One in particular, a dimwitted and chatty nymph named Echo, happened to hear of Narcissus’ legendary beauty one day.

ECHO: (rapidly) Narcissus is his name. They say he’s a complete dreamboat—what does that mean anyway—dreamboat—anyway they say he’s to die for—in fact, several girls already have—died that is—they committed suicide just to get his attention—can you imagine? — committing suicide just to get some attention? —sounds pretty pathetic to me—I’ve never liked anyone that much—although I did have a thing for Apollo a while back—but who am I kidding? —I’m a nymph! I have a thing for everyone!

NARRATOR: Echo was bending the ear of one of her nymph sisters. The nymph took a rare opportunity to interject.

NYMPH: (interrupting) Fascinating! By the way, Echo, will you do me a favor?

ECHO: A favor? —oh, that sounds serious—just last week Artemis herself asked me to do her a favor—we were having the most lovely chat, but she suddenly got a leg cramp, so she asked me to go fetch her brother, Apollo—y’know, the god of medicine—when I came back, she must have gotten better, because she was gone—but you know—

NYMPH: (interrupting) Great. I’m kind of in a hurry. I’m supposed to be meeting a . . . um, friend . . . here in a minute.

ECHO: Well, that’s so sweet—that reminds me of a friend I used to have—she was my best friend growing up—did I ever tell you about her? —she was a naiad, so she was bit wet behind the ears, if you know what I mean—

NYMPH: (angrily) Stop! (nicely) I mean . . . I haven’t finished yet, dear. My friend’s wife doesn’t know we’re meeting, so if she happens this way, maybe you could distract her.

ECHO: Sure—that would be great—I mean, are you two planning some kind of surprise party for his wife or something? —I love surprises—there was this one time when I found all of my friends hiding from me, and when I asked why, they said they were throwing me a surprise party—but the strange part was it wasn’t even my birthday or anything—

NYMPH: That’s nice. Well, my friend is waiting. Just remember: If his wife shows up, distract her.

ECHO: Distract her? —well, I can tell you one thing, I’m probably not very good at stalling people—I mean, what am I supposed to say? —I’m not very good at coming up with stuff right off the top of my head—

NYMPH: (gritting her teeth) You’re doing pretty well right now! Just talk to her, Echo! Keep her entertained! Welcome her to our woods!

ECHO: Oh well, I can sure handle that all right—I mean, if our woods had an official greeter, I think it would be me—most people say that I have a infectious personality—or did they say infected?—I can’t remember—my memory’s just not what it used to be—I was telling—

ECHO: (quietly) Well, okay. Seems like everyone’s in a hurry. No time to talk. Hurry. Hurry. Hurry.

NARRATOR: Echo smiled to herself and sat down upon by the edge of a small, clear stream. She leaned over the rippling water, and her face reflected back.

ECHO: At least I always have you to listen. Talking to yourself is better than not talking at all.

ECHO: (to herself) I wonder who her mysterious married friend is? —surely it’s not this Narcissus everyone’s been talking about—no, no, you simpleton, it couldn’t be him—he’s not married—plus he’s sworn to only love the one who’s beauty equals his own—tee hee—I wonder—

NARRATOR: She returned to her reflection. After staring into her own eyes for a time, she broke the surface with a slap of her hand.

NARRATOR: Little did Echo know that the nymph’s visitor was Zeus himself, on yet another one of his extramarital escapades. And the wife that the nymph had mentioned was none other than his vindictive queen, Hera.

Echo had just fallen silent when she noticed the leaves of the trees vibrating about her.

ECHO: I wonder what that is. You know, it could be an earthquake. The last time Poseidon caused one of those, I remember a whole—

NARRATOR: The leaves shook themselves free from the trees and were caught up in a ferocious whirlwind. In the midst of this, there appeared a feminine form.

NARRATOR: The form of Hera solidified, and before the nymph could react, the angry Queen of Heaven was stalking toward Echo.

ECHO: Oh, you were talking to me! I’m sorry—I really didn’t know for a second—in fact I was kind of taken aback by that dramatic entrance of yours—do you do that all the time or only when you’re going to surprise parties—

HERA: Cut the chit-chat! Obviously you’re not her, but I bet you know where she is!

ECHO: So you’re looking for a she now—that’s funny—when you first showed up, I thought you said he—I’ve always had a hearing impediment though, so it’s no wonder—by the way, I’m Echo, and it’s very nice to know that I’m not her—whoever that is—because you seem very intense about finding this mystery woman and this he you keep talking about—say, you’re one of the goddesses aren’t you?—don’t tell me—I’m good with faces—Aphrodite—you’re Aphrodite, aren’t you?

NARRATOR: Hera’s anger had been slowly boiling; now it exploded in a burst of rage.

HERA: (roaring) Silence! I would do the world a favor and cut out your prattling tongue, but as you might have noticed, I’m kind of in a hurry!

HERA: I am looking for Zeus. Perhaps you’ve heard of him? He is my husband. Now I know he’s around here somewhere, frolicking in the fencerows with one of your little hare-brained hussies.

ECHO: Oooh—I must say I have seen your husband—let me congratulate you for marrying so well—I have my own eye on a high-born lad as well—so that must mean that you are Hera, Queen of Heaven—I forgot to curtsy—you must think I am the rudest nymph who ever lived—

ECHO: I thought I saw Zeus once—only from a distance—but then my friend told me that it was only a cloud—but you know I could have sworn it was him—he’s the one with the big beard, right? —sometimes I get you all confused—if you’ve seen one god, you’ve seen them all, that’s what I say—

NARRATOR: The barren trees burst into flames. Hera stalked forward and grabbed the suddenly frightened nymph by the wrist.

HERA: Either you tell me where they are, or you’re going to be a worthless pile of ashes.

ECHO: My—my—my—I am so sorry—I apologize my queen—they’re here—or somewhere close by—I—I—just get so nervous—and I can’t stop talking.

NARRATOR: There was a flash of light away through the trees, and Hera’s gaze jerked toward it. A shining light shot heavenward, leaving behind a cloud-like trail.

HERA: There he goes! There he goes! I knew it! He will pay for this! He will rue the day that he ever—

ECHO: Well, that’s great, your majesty—you know I’m so happy that I could help—I always say it’s better to help people than—

HERA: (crazy) Help? I was going to catch him red-handed. I wanted him to watch while I ground his little playmate into fertilizer, but you, you kept me from it with that wagging tongue of yours!

ECHO: You know, I can tell you’re upset with me, but I think it’s always best to get a good night’s sleep before you make any hasty decisions—I mean, you definitely don’t want to do anything you regret—like this one time my uncle—

HERA: You don’t learn, do you? Fine! So one floozy has flown the coop, but you’ll make a fine replacement.

HERA: Because you are so fond of the sound of your own voice, you, Echo, are forever cursed. You always wanted the last word, well, now you’ll have it! (evil laugh)

NARRATOR: Hera snapped her fingers, wiped her hands clean, and gazed coolly at the nymph.

HERA: No need to thank me for sparing your life. And for future reference—stay away from my husband.

NARRATOR: Then she was gone. Echo couldn’t believe it. She had been sure that Hera would kill her, but here she was—alive—but still cursed. Whatever that meant. There was a rustling in the brush, and her nymph sister appeared looking quite frightened.

NYMPH: Thanks for stalling her, Echo. We heard her yelling. What did she do to you?

NARRATOR: Echo brought her fingers to her lips. They had acted without her control. She had meant to say so much more.

NYMPH: What? I don’t understand. I heard her yell something about being cursed.

NARRATOR: Huge tears formed in Echo’s eyes. Then her sister nymph understood.

NARRATOR: As she ran, she covered her mouth. She did not wish to answer. But her lips moved of their own will.

From that time on, Echo lived apart from the other nymphs. She couldn’t stand the sight of them. They were so frivolous and carefree as she had once been. Now she only wanted to be alone in her misery. But one day as she sat by the damp cave she now called her home, she heard a voice not far off—the voice of a young man.

NARCISSUS: Let’s see those hags find Narcissus out here. It’s almost a crime for such looks to be here—in the middle of woods—where no one can see their glory. An absolute waste. But look, even nature is not more beautiful than Narcissus.

NARRATOR: She crept to the mouth of her cave to get a glimpse of the legendary boy. Once she beheld his golden face, her cold heart was revived. He was everything the legends said: a mortal beauty with no rival.

NARCISSUS: Look on me, Nature. See that the gods have created something truly perfect in Narcissus—something that is completely worthy of a world’s share of love.

NARRATOR: Narcissus was marching away proudly, addressing the forest around him, so Echo fell silently into step behind him. A new hope had entered her heart. How many had failed to entice this boy? Maybe she was the one who would at last be his match. She would have no words to profess her love, but true love needs no words, she told herself.

NARCISSUS: (loudly) Who dares interrupt the walk of Narcissus? If you’ve come for a glimpse of my beauty, take it and be on with your miserable little life. I said, is someone here?

NARCISSUS: (hatefully) Well, what do you want? A souvenir? A lock of the hair of Narcissus? I don’t think so. The only hand that will ever touch my hair will be the hand of my wife.

NARRATOR: Slowly—very slowly—the mouth of Narcissus curled into a smirk.

NARCISSUS: (laughing) I would rather die than give something like you power over me.

NARRATOR: As she watched him disappear into the trees, Echo felt something inside of her crumbling. Though her lips could not speak the prayer, she formed the words in her mind. She prayed that some god, above or below, would make Narcissus come to know the same heartbreak she had felt.

Narcissus continued through the forest and came at last to a secluded pool. Its waters were so clear, and its surface so completely undisturbed that nothing obscured its mirror-like surface.

NARRATOR: The boy bent to the waters, but stopped short. There, just below the surface, was the most glorious creature he had ever seen. There was an odd feeling in his chest accompanied by a lightness of the mind.

NARCISSUS: (breathlessly) Who or what are you? You, who have at last made Narcissus feel love!

NARRATOR: He examined the flawless face intently. There they were—the very features he had imagined—the shining eyes, the pink lips, even the lustrous hair of his dreams.

NARCISSUS: Only I among all living things can rival your beauty, sweet one. Speak! What is the name that the gods have given to such splendor!

NARCISSUS: (excitedly) Don’t be coy! Surely you are some goddess or some nymph! Speak! You have nothing to fear!

NARCISSUS: Please! You must tell me your name! I will die if I do not hear it!

NARCISSUS: What prevents you from speaking? Are you under some spell? Trapped in this magical pool? Come! Let your love Narcissus free you from this prison!

NARRATOR: He reached into the pool—searching for the form to match the face—but he had disturbed the surface.

NARCISSUS: (panicking) No! Don’t go! I will die if you leave me! (calming) There! There! You are returning. You looked scared before. You did not want to leave me either, did you?

NARCISSUS: So, my love, you are trapped in a pool. What does that matter to me while I can still gaze upon your beautiful face? I will sit here by your side as long as my life endures.

NARRATOR: There Narcissus sat, day after day, admiring his love, never suspecting its true identity. At length his stomach cried out for food and his throat for water, but he would not leave his love—even for a moment—and he would never again dare to break the surface of her mystical pool.

NARRATOR: Then the head of Narcissus fell forward upon his chest and his final word escaped his lips:

NARRATOR: Only Echo the nymph, watching from the woods behind, was there to witness the death she had prayed to bring about.

NARRATOR: The soul of Narcissus slipped down into the Underworld. As he rode across the Styx in the grim craft of Charon the boatman, Narcissus could not help glancing in the black waters at his side, searching for one last glimpse of his one and only love.

On the bank where Narcissus died, there sprang from the ground a beautiful flower—a flower that still bears his name.

As for Echo, she returned to her cave. She regretted the prayer that had ended the life of her love. Her regret began to eat her away. She wandered deeper and deeper and faded into the shadows. Her bones became stone, her sinewy arms reached up and joined the rocky roof of the cave, and her legs hardened into the floor. All that remained was her voice.

So even to this day, when man journeys to where darkness and stone rule, he can still hear Echo stealing his voice and making it her own.

DISCUSS

Does Narcissus get what he deserves? Does Echo? Explain.
What elements in this myth help explain events in nature?
In Greek society male beauty was highly prized. If this story were set in your society, would Narcissus be a man or a woman?
Some psychologists claim that all people should have a “healthy” level of narcissism. Do you think this is true? Explain.

FUN FACT

Narcissus was the name of a Roman athlete in the 2nd century A.D., who was the personal fighting trainer of the Roman Emperor Commodus. Commodus loved the brutal gladiator fights of the Coliseum and fought in several events himself—an unheard of act for a Roman Emperor. Narcissus gained lasting fame when he assassinated Commodus by strangling him in his bedchamber. This Narcissus was the partial inspiration for the character of Maximus in Ridley Scott’s epic film Gladiator (2000).

Narcissus is a famous myth-character for two reasons. First, even though there are plenty of bizarre mythological love stories to be found (e.g., Oedipus loves his mother, the Queen of Crete loves a bull), Narcissus is the only character to ever fall passionately in love with himself. Secondly, the adjective formed from his name, narcissistic, is one used to describe those people who seem to be in love with themselves. (You know who I’m talking about. If you don’t, you might be one of them.)

Now, in everyday life, people might casually say, “So-and-so is in love with himself,” but they do not mean it literally. The person in question has not been sending himself flowers or taking himself on moonlit gondola rides. Falling passionately and romantically in love with yourself is something that just does not happen too often. Instead, they just mean that this person thinks a lot of himself.

Narcissism has been described as self-love that shuts out all other loves. It keeps people from experiencing other type of loves that could bring them happiness, and instead they focus their love back on themselves—often with destructive results. There are many types of narcissism, but two general categories are cerebral and somatic. Those who are cerebral narcissists derive their excessive pride from their intellect and their academic achievements. Those who are somatic narcissists derive their excessive pride from their appearance, their physical beauty, and their ability to attract admirers. Whichever type of narcissism narcissists suffer from, they are completely focused on themselves. People might throw the word narcissistic around, but it is not the same thing as just being cocky or stuck up. Narcissism is serious business. Some people actually believe that they are the center of the universe, and that is a dangerous belief—for them and everyone else involved.

Looking at the other side of the coin, there are people who need a little more self-love in their lives. While the narcissists are busy thinking they cannot do anything wrong, there are people out there thinking they cannot do any right. This is from a lack of self-esteem. So where is the dividing line? Having too little self-esteem can lead to depression or suicide, while too much can lead to hurtful, destructive behavior and warped sense of reality. When does too much self-esteem turn into narcissism? Perhaps it is best to heed one of the mottos engraved above the doorway to the Delphic Oracle: “Everything in Moderation.” Love yourself, but not too much. And how can you regulate this? The Delphic Oracle has an answer for that, too. “Know Thyself” is the second motto carved there.

DISCUSS

Where do you see the dividing line between narcissism and self-esteem? Explain.
What famous person—living or dead—might be a somatic narcissist? Explain.
What famous person—living or dead—might be a cerebral narcissist? Explain.
Do you notice narcissism in one sex more than the other? Explain.

VIEW

View the drawing All Is Vanity by C. Allan Gilbert (1873–1929). What is this optical illusion trying to say about vanity or “self-love”?

ANALYZE

One of the most famous parallels for the story of Narcissus is Oscar Wilde’s 1890 novel The Picture of Dorian Gray. Dorian Gray, obsessed with his own beauty, makes a vow that he would exchange his soul in order to prevent his body from ever aging. Gray’s life becomes a parade of sin after sin. While his looks never fade and his body never ages, his sins are reflected in a portrait of himself he keeps locked away. As the years progress, he no longer appears as a young, beautiful boy in the portrait, but each of his sinful deeds makes the picture more aged and hideous. After ruining many lives and even committing murder, an old (but still youthful in appearance) Gray commits suicide by stabbing the painting. The painting reverts to its original depiction of the young man, while Dorian himself takes on the hideous appearance that has always been his true nature. How is this story connected to the myth of Narcissus?

Many Greek myths use storytelling to explain truths about human nature by exposing flaws that we all possess. (Do not take the human in human nature too literally. More often than not, it is the gods who are demonstrating human flaws.) Who can say that he or she has never been vain like Narcissus or foolish like Echo? In order to make the criticism as clear as possible, the characters always take these flaws to extremes—Narcissus is incredibly vain, and Echo is incredibly foolish. The myths also warn the audience to avoid the behaviors that lead the characters into so much trouble. Echo, who prattles on endlessly, loses her voice. Narcissus, who callously breaks the heart of everyone else, accidentally breaks his own. By reading about the fates of these fictional characters, the audience learns from the characters’ mistakes but is spared the pain of going through the situation themselves. This one of the many great uses of literature.

Out of the many character flaws outlined by the myths, the most common is hubris. Over the years hubris, which used to be a generic word for crime, came to mean “overweening or excessive pride.” Most Greek tragedies—plays that tell of the downfall of a noble character—preach against the dangers of putting oneself above the gods, the most extreme case of hubris.

Time and time again, characters in Greek mythology suffer because of their pride. Narcissus’ excessive pride comes from his looks, and eventually those he has callously wronged call on the gods to cut him down to size. The Greek goddess Nemesis is just the god for the job. Nemesis was inescapable—she always got her man (or woman as the case may be.) She was the personification of divine retribution, a force that made those who committed the crime of hubris wish they had never been born.

DISCUSS

How does Narcissus commit the crime of hubris?
What other myths show truths about human nature? Explain.

Another myth-character found guilty of the crime of hubris was a weaver named Arachne, who boasted that her weaving was even better than that of the goddess Athena, the patron of domestic arts. Athena, not to be trash-talked by an upstart mortal, appeared to Arachne and challenged her to a contest—a weave-off. Arachne cockily agreed, and the two flew to their weaving. The goddess Athena presented the tapestry that she had woven, and it was truly a divine specimen. Yet in some miraculous way, within the tapestry that Arachne wove, the craftsmanship was finer and the colors more vivid than in the goddess’ work. Athena, forgetting that she was the Goddess of Wisdom, went berserk and moved to strike down the mortal weaver. Before the goddess could do her in, Arachne denied Athena the pleasure and hanged herself. Death is not necessarily the end to a goddess though. Athena restored Arachne to life and, inspired by her fondness for hanging, transformed her into a grotesque creature with hairy legs, a bulbous body, and hundreds of beady eyes—the very first spider. To this day arachnids, the children of Arachne, are still the best weavers around.

As mentioned in the first chapter, myths often explain occurrences in nature. Narcissus is one of many myth-characters whose death explains the birth of a certain type of tree or flower. Although you may not have heard of the Narcissus flower (as the Greeks call it), you have probably heard of the daffodil, which is the North American equivalent. The Greeks could tell that the daffodil sprang from Narcissus because the flower bends down, as if admiring its reflection in the water. If you have ever seen a daffodil, you might have noticed its droop.

Hyacinthus was another boy who became a flower after his death. He was the beloved friend of the god Apollo, who accidentally fractured his skull with a forcefully thrown discus while the two were showing off. To partially remedy the fact that he had just killed his friend, Apollo caused Hyacinthus to transform into the Hyacinth, a flower that bears his name.

The nymph Daphne, possibly hearing what a dangerous god Apollo was to befriend, ran away when the god approached her with romantic proposals. Rather than be his lover, she transformed herself into a tree called the laurel. Apollo honored the beauty of the nymph by weaving her leaves into his hair. You have probably seen a picture of an ancient Greek or Roman man wearing a crown of leaves on his head; this is a ring of laurel leaves, signifying that this person is especially honored. In ancient Greece, laurels crowns were presented to the winners of both athletic and artistic contests. In modern times this tradition is kept alive through the position of laureate, an honorary title bestowed upon a gifted artist, such as the poet laureate of the United States.

Adonis was a boy who was loved by the goddess Aphrodite. When Ares learned of the affair, he became insanely jealous, because he was involved in a long-standing affair with Aphrodite as well. Vowing to get rid of his rival, Ares transformed himself into a boar and attacked Adonis while he was out hunting. Aphrodite found her love dying, gored by the boar’s tusks. To honor his memory, she caused a tiny, red flower to spring up from each drop of his precious blood.