“The Craftsman’s Box”

By Jeanette Smith

The Craftsman’s Box



In the first years after Pandora opened the forbidden jar and evil entered the world, the wife of a certain craftsman fell ill with disease. Since any remedy remained unknown to him, the man set off to ask of others nearby what might be done.

The man asked every person in his town, but no one could answer him on the method with which to cure this affliction. For disease and death, having been newly introduced to humanity, were without challenge. To the craftsman’s luck, a traveler passing through also heard the pleading of the man for his wife.

Now, this was a traveler of the most immoral kind—having abandoned himself to the greed, envy, and hatred released into the world. Not one to pass up an opportunity to fill his pockets with coin, the traveler made claim to be a man of healing. And so, the craftsman was tricked into bringing the dishonest man home to the side of the ailing woman.

From his bag, the traveler drew a stone and bound it to the woman’s forehead, telling the craftsman to pray to the god Apollo for four nights and on the fifth morning his wife would be cured. Blessing the traveler with many coins and items of value, the craftsman took Hope by the hand and rejoiced in his wife’s coming health.

But as we know, the traveler was not a man of healing and the craftsman’s wife was not cured. On the third morning, the woman, afflicted by a malady of the severest kind, was taken to Pluto and Persephone; and the man, who knew he was no great hero, could not follow.

Consumed by grief, the craftsman lamented in his trust of the strange traveler. Where men had once agreed and worked together, now they deceived and destroyed. Although Pandora was able to contain Hope within the bounds of the jar, it had become clear to the craftsman that Hope alone was not enough to lessen the burden of all Pandora had released.

So, the craftsman decided to build a box in which he could gather and store any civility, integrity, or honor he could find left in the world. This he would bring to Hope so perhaps, with enough goodness by her side, she would be able to stop men like the traveler from such evils and prevent the deaths and grief of others.

The craftsman set to work. The frame of the box he constructed from oak, a strong wood that would protect the box from any evil that might seek to destroy the cargo inside. The joints he cut as smooth as two rivers meeting, and the wood he joined together with the strongest bonds.

The sides of the box he formed from willow, it being soft and easy to fashion to his liking. Into the willow sides he carved with meticulous care scenes of the great works of the gods and the kindness of humans toward one another, scenes of joy for the good that his creation would bring to the human race.

The top he formed from an olive tree, considered sacred to mankind and the gods. The lid of the box he ornamented with precious stones: pearls, diamonds, sapphires of many colors, lapis lazuli, and other prized materials.

The hinges and lock of the box he forged from iron and coated in gold. The iron would hold strong the good of the world while the gold served to make sure each part of the box was pleasing to the gods. For the craftsman’s next task would be to appeal to the gods so he might succeed in the task he had laid upon himself.

Once his work was finished, the craftsman stepped back to admire his creation. The box was like no other earthly thing. The wood appeared to glow with the life’s energy with which it was made. Even the carvings of the box appeared as if they were moving, so lifelike they were.

Once he saw the beauty of the box, the craftsman fell to his knees and wept that he had created such magnificence in a world full of such anger, sadness, hatred, and all other evils. Recovering from his awe, the craftsman went out to buy silk to line the box, for if it were to hold such precious cargo, then the inside should be as beautiful and well-appointed as the outside.

While he was gone to town, that mischievous satyr Pan appeared, drawn by the cries of the wood nymphs who had seen in wonderment and admiration how their sister trees had been transformed. Pan, upon seeing the box, immediately called upon his colleague in misbehavior, Chaos.

When Chaos arrived, followed by her usual wake of terror and confusion, she saw the box and she too wept at its loveliness. When she observed the attention and emotion that the craftsman had poured into his work, she was moved with pity and her heart began to melt within her. Chaos would not destroy a thing so exquisite. However, she soon remembered her character and promptly decided what to do with the box.

Meanwhile, after the craftsman had finished buying his materials, he stopped off at the temple of Vulcan to sacrifice to that lame patron of craftsmen. Vulcan, called to the temple by the man’s pleading, heard his tale of woe and his request for blessings upon the box which was to serve mankind. Following the craftsman back to his house, the god saw the splendor of the box and elected to help the bereaved man.

However, Chaos, fled from the scene with the sense of the approaching Vulcan, had already worked her black magic on the beauteous construction, and what she did could not be undone by the highest of gods, Jupiter himself.

Vulcan, revealed in a divine form to the craftsman, explained the curse set upon the box. The box would henceforth be unable to hold anything. If an object were to be placed within, it would be malformed into any being other than its own and released.

The craftsman’s heart shattered with this news. Vulcan, being the gentlest of the gods, comforted the man and lauded him for his efforts, though futile they had become.

Disconsolate as he was, the craftsman was not ready to give up his valorous undertaking. He thought of the shrouded body of his wife, but this time, he did not weep. Instead, the craftsman set his jaw firm and began rushing about, collecting the various items surrounding him.

Perhaps, with the smallest of blessings from the gods, one of these items might be turned by the box into a useful and good power the craftsman could still give to Hope to offset the escaped evils.

The craftsman’s heart smiled as he began his new work. First, he placed one of his carving tools into the box and closed the lid, but immediately the lid flew back open and a snake slithered out. Next he placed a beautiful piece of olive branch into the box, but no sooner had he closed the lid than it flew open and out of the box came a piece of stone. The man tried many different things, each being turned into something contrary to its nature and all lacking worthwhileness.

Finally, having placed his entire household and every possession, one by one, into the box, the craftsman halted in his efforts. With all the passions of his life gone and his creation having failed, the craftsman had only one thing left to give. The man gathered his wife’s shrouded body and placed her into the box, climbing within to lay by her side.

Jupiter, having witnessed with many of the other gods the craftsman’s attempts, was moved to pity as the dejected man chose himself and his wife as the final sacrifices to the power of the box. Knowledgeable of the pureness of the craftsman’s heart, Jupiter could not bear to have the pair deformed by Chaos’ curse.

With his malice toward Prometheus and humankind abated by the selfless act of the craftsman, Jupiter, imparting his goodwill into a bolt of his mighty lightning, cast it down to Earth where it struck the box, shattering the beauteous thing into nothing.

Where the dedicated work of the craftsman had once stood now glowed two soft, dancing lights. Although unable to reverse Chaos’ curse, the mightiest of gods had used his power to direct the box to bring one final good to mankind.

And so, it is through the spirits of the craftsman and his wife that Love finally entered the world.

Jeanette Smith is a freelance writer and editor based in Dallas, Texas. and is the Curriculum and Coaching Director for DIY MFA and a Contributing Editor to Rare magazine, and also holds a BA in English Literature from Smith College. When not her keyboard, you can find her teaching a scuba diving class or posting pictures of her cats on Instagram (@jeanettethewriter).