Athena contested for honors with a mortal. This Mortal was Arachne. Her father was Idmon, skilled in the art of dyeing in purple, and from infancy the girl had been taught her fathers art, joined with that of weaving. In all the land there was none that surpassed her. So conceited did she become that, lifting her head proudly to the shies, she challenged Athena herself, patron of the arts of the household, to compete with her.
Pallas Athena had watched with kindly interest the progress that Arachne was making, and when she heard that presumptuous challenge, she was not offended. She assumed the guise of an old woman and made her way into Idmons home. There she came to the spindle at which Arachne was weaving and admired the girls skill.
I am, she said, a woman old in experience, and I have seen much in this wide world. To me has come the knowledge of your challenge to Athena. Let me counsel you to withdraw your words. You surpass and shall surpass all other mortals, but how vain and foolish it is to contend with the immortal gods, from whom comes all skill
Be silent, foolish old women, replied Arachne scornfully. I fear not Athena, but shall put her to shame with my skill. Let her appear and put me to the test.
Even as she spoke, Athena threw off her disguise and in solemn majesty stood before the girl.
Athena is here, she said; and at her words, Arachne trembled and realized too late how insane had been her challenge. But she Summoned up her courage and began to weave her most skillful web. On a wide woof she pictured some of the love affairs of the gods. In all colors she wove the web, but mostly in that royal purple of which her father was the master. At last her work was complete.
Then Athena began to weave, and she depicted wondrous scenes in high Olympus, and from her very web floated fourth-divine fragrance of nectar and ambrosia. An unearthly beauty hovered over the design. In the corner Athena pictured the fate that had come to mortals who had defied the gods, and as she went from one to the other, Arachne began to feel doom stealing closer and closer. As the last corner was completed, Athena turned to her, touched her with her magic spindle, and said:
Punished shall you be for your presumption, but the gods will not let die such sill as you have shown. Change to an insect, that other mortals may take warning from you, but ever weave a web of marvelous design.
At the words of Athena, Arachne began to shrink and shrivel. Shortly she was completely transformed. Where a girl had stood and insect crawled- the spider; and before the eyes of the terrified beholders it scuttled off to a corner and immediately began weaving a web of shimmering threads. So to this day the Greeks call the spider Arachne.
