The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Heroes, by Charles Kingsley (#1 in our series by Charles Kingsley) Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the header without written permission. Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is important information about your specific rights and restrictions in how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. **Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** **eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** *****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** Title: The Heroes Author: Charles Kingsley Release Date: October, 1996 [EBook #677] [This file was first posted on October 4, 1996] [Most recently updated: September 8, 2002] Edition: 10 Language: English Character set encoding: ASCII
Transcribed from the 1889 Macmillan and Co. edition by David Price,
email [email protected]
THE HEROES, OR GREEK FAIRY TALES FOR MY CHILDREN
Contents:
Preface
Perseus
How Perseus and his mother came
to Seriphos
How Perseus vowed a Rash Vow
How Perseus slew the Gorgon
How Perseus came to the Æthiops
How Perseus came home again
The Argonauts
How the Centaur trained the Heroes
on Pelion
How Jason lost his sandal in Anauros
How they built the ship ‘Argo’
in Iolcos
How the Argonauts sailed to Colchis
How the Argonauts were driven into
the Unknown Sea
What was the end of the Heroes
Theseus
How Theseus lifted the stone
How Theseus slew the devourers of
men
How Theseus slew the minotaur
How Theseus fell by his pride
PREFACE
MY DEAR CHILDREN,
Some of you have heard already of the old Greeks; and all of you, as
you grow up, will hear more and more of them. Those of you who
are boys will, perhaps, spend a great deal of time in reading Greek
books; and the girls, though they may not learn Greek, will be sure
to come across a great many stories taken from Greek history, and to
see, I may say every day, things which we should not have had if it
had not been for these old Greeks. You can hardly find a well-written
book which has not in it Greek names, and words, and proverbs; you cannot
walk through a great town without passing Greek buildings; you cannot
go into a well-furnished room without seeing Greek statues and ornaments,
even Greek patterns of furniture and paper; so strangely have these
old Greeks left their mark behind them upon this modern world in which
we now live. And as you grow up, and read more and more, you will
find that we owe to these old Greeks the beginners of all our mathematics
and geometry - that is, the science and knowledge of numbers, and of
the shapes of things, and of the forces which make things move and stand
at rest; and the beginnings of our geography and astronomy; and of our
laws, and freedom, and politics - that is, the science of how to rule
a country, and make it peaceful and strong. And we owe to them,
too, the beginning of our logic - that is, the study of words and of
reasoning; and of our metaphysics - that is, the study of our own thoughts
and souls. And last of all, they made their language so beautiful
that foreigners used to take to it instead of their own; and at last
Greek became the common language of educated people all over the old
world, from Persia and Egypt even to Spain and Britain. And therefore
it was that the New Testament was written in Greek, that it might be
read and understood by all the nations of the Roman empire; so that,
next to the Jews, and the Bible which the Jews handed down to us, we
owe more to these old Greeks than to any people upon earth.
Now you must remember one thing - that ‘Greeks’ was not
their real name. They called themselves always ‘Hellens,’
but the Romans miscalled them Greeks; and we have taken that wrong name
from the Romans - it would take a long time to tell you why. They
were made up of many tribes and many small separate states; and when
you hear in this book of Minuai, and Athenians, and other such names,
you must remember that they were all different tribes and peoples of
the one great Hellen race, who lived in what we now call Greece, in
the islands of the Archipelago, and along the coast of Asia Minor (Ionia,
as they call it), from the Hellespont to Rhodes, and had afterwards
colonies and cities in Sicily, and South Italy (which was called Great
Greece), and along the shores of the Black Sea at Sinope, and Kertch,
and at Sevastopol. And after that, again, they spread under Alexander
the Great, and conquered Egypt, and Syria, and Persia, and the whole
East. But that was many hundred years after my stories; for then
there were no Greeks on the Black Sea shores, nor in Sicily, or Italy,
or anywhere but in Greece and in Ionia. And if you are puzzled
by the names of places in this book, you must take the maps and find
them out. It will be a pleasanter way of learning geography than
out of a dull lesson-book.
Now, I love these old Hellens heartily; and I should be very ungrateful
to them if I did not, considering all that they have taught me; and
they seem to me like brothers, though they have all been dead and gone
many hundred years ago. So as you must learn about them, whether
you choose or not, I wish to be the first to introduce you to them,
and to say, ‘Come hither, children, at this blessed Christmas
time, when all God’s creatures should rejoice together, and bless
Him who redeemed them all. Come and see old friends of mine, whom
I knew long ere you were born. They are come to visit us at Christmas,
out of the world where all live to God; and to tell you some of their
old fairy tales, which they loved when they were young like you.’
For nations begin at first by being children like you, though they are
made up of grown men. They are children at first like you - men
and women with children’s hearts; frank, and affectionate, and
full of trust, and teachable, and loving to see and learn all the wonders
round them; and greedy also, too often, and passionate and silly, as
children are.
Thus these old Greeks were teachable, and learnt from all the nations
round. From the Phoenicians they learnt shipbuilding, and some
say letters beside; and from the Assyrians they learnt painting, and
carving, and building in wood and stone; and from the Egyptians they
learnt astronomy, and many things which you would not understand.
In this they were like our own forefathers the Northmen, of whom you
love to hear, who, though they were wild and rough themselves, were
humble, and glad to learn from every one. Therefore God rewarded
these Greeks, as He rewarded our forefathers, and made them wiser than
the people who taught them in everything they learnt; for He loves to
see men and children open-hearted, and willing to be taught; and to
him who uses what he has got, He gives more and more day by day.
So these Greeks grew wise and powerful, and wrote poems which will live
till the world’s end, which you must read for yourselves some
day, in English at least, if not in Greek. And they learnt to
carve statues, and build temples, which are still among the wonders
of the world; and many another wondrous thing God taught them, for which
we are the wiser this day.
For you must not fancy, children, that because these old Greeks were
heathens, therefore God did not care for them, and taught them nothing.
The Bible tells us that it was not so, but that God’s mercy is
over all His works, and that He understands the hearts of all people,
and fashions all their works. And St. Paul told these old Greeks
in after times, when they had grown wicked and fallen low, that they
ought to have known better, because they were God’s offspring,
as their own poets had said; and that the good God had put them where
they were, to seek the Lord, and feel after Him, and find Him, though
He was not far from any one of them. And Clement of Alexandria,
a great Father of the Church, who was as wise as he was good, said that
God had sent down Philosophy to the Greeks from heaven, as He sent down
the Gospel to the Jews.
For Jesus Christ, remember, is the Light who lights every man who comes
into the world. And no one can think a right thought, or feel
a right feeling, or understand the real truth of anything in earth and
heaven, unless the good Lord Jesus teaches him by His Spirit, which
gives man understanding.
But these Greeks, as St. Paul told them, forgot what God had taught
them, and, though they were God’s offspring, worshipped idols
of wood and stone, and fell at last into sin and shame, and then, of
course, into cowardice and slavery, till they perished out of that beautiful
land which God had given them for so many years.
For, like all nations who have left anything behind them, beside mere
mounds of earth, they believed at first in the One True God who made
all heaven and earth. But after a while, like all other nations, they
began to worship other gods, or rather angels and spirits, who (so they
fancied) lived about their land. Zeus, the Father of gods and
men (who was some dim remembrance of the blessed true God), and Hera
his wife, and Phoebus Apollo the Sun-god, and Pallas Athené who
taught men wisdom and useful arts, and Aphrodite the Queen of Beauty,
and Poseidon the Ruler of the Sea, and Hephaistos the King of the Fire,
who taught men to work in metals. And they honoured the Gods of
the Rivers, and the Nymph-maids, who they fancied lived in the caves,
and the fountains, and the glens of the forest, and all beautiful wild
places. And they honoured the Erinnues, the dreadful sisters,
who, they thought, haunted guilty men until their sins were purged away.
And many other dreams they had, which parted the One God into many;
and they said, too, that these gods did things which would be a shame
and sin for any man to do. And when their philosophers arose,
and told them that God was One, they would not listen, but loved their
idols, and their wicked idol feasts, till they all came to ruin.
But we will talk of such sad things no more.
But, at the time of which this little book speaks, they had not fallen
as low as that. They worshipped no idols, as far as I can find;
and they still believed in the last six of the ten commandments, and
knew well what was right and what was wrong. And they believed
(and that was what gave them courage) that the gods loved men, and taught
them, and that without the gods men were sure to come to ruin.
And in that they were right enough, as we know - more right even than
they thought; for without God we can do nothing, and all wisdom comes
from Him.
Now, you must not think of them in this book as learned men, living
in great cities, such as they were afterwards, when they wrought all
their beautiful works, but as country people, living in farms and walled
villages, in a simple, hard-working way; so that the greatest kings
and heroes cooked their own meals, and thought it no shame, and made
their own ships and weapons, and fed and harnessed their own horses;
and the queens worked with their maid-servants, and did all the business
of the house, and spun, and wove, and embroidered, and made their husbands’
clothes and their own. So that a man was honoured among them,
not because he happened to be rich, but according to his skill, and
his strength, and courage, and the number of things which he could do.
For they were but grown-up children, though they were right noble children
too; and it was with them as it is now at school - the strongest and
cleverest boy, though he be poor, leads all the rest.
Now, while they were young and simple they loved fairy tales, as you
do now. All nations do so when they are young: our old forefathers
did, and called their stories ‘Sagas.’ I will read
you some of them some day - some of the Eddas, and the Voluspà,
and Beowulf, and the noble old Romances. The old Arabs, again,
had their tales, which we now call the ‘Arabian Nights.’
The old Romans had theirs, and they called them ‘Fabulae,’
from which our word ‘fable’ comes; but the old Hellens called
theirs ‘Muthoi,’ from which our new word ‘myth’
is taken. But next to those old Romances, which were written in
the Christian middle age, there are no fairy tales like these old Greek
ones, for beauty, and wisdom, and truth, and for making children love
noble deeds, and trust in God to help them through.
Now, why have I called this book ‘The Heroes’? Because
that was the name which the Hellens gave to men who were brave and skilful,
and dare do more than other men. At first, I think, that was all
it meant: but after a time it came to mean something more; it came to
mean men who helped their country; men in those old times, when the
country was half-wild, who killed fierce beasts and evil men, and drained
swamps, and founded towns, and therefore after they were dead, were
honoured, because they had left their country better than they found
it. And we call such a man a hero in English to this day, and
call it a ‘heroic’ thing to suffer pain and grief, that
we may do good to our fellow-men. We may all do that, my children,
boys and girls alike; and we ought to do it, for it is easier now than
ever, and safer, and the path more clear. But you shall hear how
the Hellens said their heroes worked, three thousand years ago.
The stories are not all true, of course, nor half of them; you are not
simple enough to fancy that; but the meaning of them is true, and true
for ever, and that is - Do right, and God will help you.’
FARLEY COURT,
Advent, 1855.
[I owe an apology to the few scholars who may happen to read this hasty
jeu d’esprit, for the inconsistent method in which I have
spelt Greek names. The rule which I have tried to follow has been
this: when the word has been hopelessly Latinised, as ‘Phœbus’
has been, I have left it as it usually stands; but in other cases I
have tried to keep the plain Greek spelling, except when it would have
seemed pedantic, or when, as in the word ‘Tiphus,’ I should
have given an altogether wrong notion of the sound of the word.
It has been a choice of difficulties, which has been forced on me by
our strange habit of introducing boys to the Greek myths, not in their
original shape, but in a Roman disguise.]
STORY I. - PERSEUS
PART I - HOW PERSEUS AND HIS MOTHER CAME TO SERIPHOS
Once upon a time there were two princes who were twins. Their
names were Acrisius and Proetus, and they lived in the pleasant vale
of Argos, far away in Hellas. They had fruitful meadows and vineyards,
sheep and oxen, great herds of horses feeding down in Lerna Fen, and
all that men could need to make them blest: and yet they were wretched,
because they were jealous of each other. From the moment they
were born they began to quarrel; and when they grew up each tried to
take away the other’s share of the kingdom, and keep all for himself.
So first Acrisius drove out Proetus; and he went across the seas, and
brought home a foreign princess for his wife, and foreign warriors to
help him, who were called Cyclopes; and drove out Acrisius in his turn;
and then they fought a long while up and down the land, till the quarrel
was settled, and Acrisius took Argos and one half the land, and Proetus
took Tiryns and the other half. And Proetus and his Cyclopes built
around Tiryns great walls of unhewn stone, which are standing to this
day.
But there came a prophet to that hard-hearted Acrisius and prophesied
against him, and said, ‘Because you have risen up against your
own blood, your own blood shall rise up against you; because you have
sinned against your kindred, by your kindred you shall be punished.
Your daughter Danae shall bear a son, and by that son’s hands
you shall die. So the Gods have ordained, and it will surely come
to pass.’
And at that Acrisius was very much afraid; but he did not mend his ways.
He had been cruel to his own family, and, instead of repenting and being
kind to them, he went on to be more cruel than ever: for he shut up
his fair daughter Danae in a cavern underground, lined with brass, that
no one might come near her. So he fancied himself more cunning
than the Gods: but you will see presently whether he was able to escape
them.
Now it came to pass that in time Danae bore a son; so beautiful a babe
that any but King Acrisius would have had pity on it. But he had
no pity; for he took Danae and her babe down to the seashore, and put
them into a great chest and thrust them out to sea, for the winds and
the waves to carry them whithersoever they would.
The north-west wind blew freshly out of the blue mountains, and down
the pleasant vale of Argos, and away and out to sea. And away
and out to sea before it floated the mother and her babe, while all
who watched them wept, save that cruel father, King Acrisius.
So they floated on and on, and the chest danced up and down upon the
billows, and the baby slept upon its mother’s breast: but the
poor mother could not sleep, but watched and wept, and she sang to her
baby as they floated; and the song which she sang you shall learn yourselves
some day.
And now they are past the last blue headland, and in the open sea; and
there is nothing round them but the waves, and the sky, and the wind.
But the waves are gentle, and the sky is clear, and the breeze is tender
and low; for these are the days when Halcyone and Ceyx build their nests,
and no storms ever ruffle the pleasant summer sea.
And who were Halcyone and Ceyx? You shall hear while the chest
floats on. Halcyone was a fairy maiden, the daughter of the beach
and of the wind. And she loved a sailor-boy, and married him;
and none on earth were so happy as they. But at last Ceyx was
wrecked; and before he could swim to the shore the billows swallowed
him up. And Halcyone saw him drowning, and leapt into the sea
to him; but in vain. Then the Immortals took pity on them both,
and changed them into two fair sea-birds; and now they build a floating
nest every year, and sail up and down happily for ever upon the pleasant
seas of Greece.
So a night passed, and a day, and a long day it was for Danae; and another
night and day beside, till Danae was faint with hunger and weeping,
and yet no land appeared. And all the while the babe slept quietly;
and at last poor Danae drooped her head and fell asleep likewise with
her cheek against the babe’s.
After a while she was awakened suddenly; for the chest was jarring and
grinding, and the air was full of sound. She looked up, and over
her head were mighty cliffs, all red in the setting sun, and around
her rocks and breakers, and flying flakes of foam. She clasped
her hands together, and shrieked aloud for help. And when she
cried, help met her: for now there came over the rocks a tall and stately
man, and looked down wondering upon poor Danae tossing about in the
chest among the waves.
He wore a rough cloak of frieze, and on his head a broad hat to shade
his face; in his hand he carried a trident for spearing fish, and over
his shoulder was a casting-net; but Danae could see that he was no common
man by his stature, and his walk, and his flowing golden hair and beard;
and by the two servants who came behind him, carrying baskets for his
fish. But she had hardly time to look at him, before he had laid
aside his trident and leapt down the rocks, and thrown his casting-net
so surely over Danae and the chest, that he drew it, and her, and the
baby, safe upon a ledge of rock.
Then the fisherman took Danae by the hand, and lifted her out of the
chest, and said -
‘O beautiful damsel, what strange chance has brought you to this
island in so flail a ship? Who are you, and whence? Surely
you are some king’s daughter; and this boy has somewhat more than
mortal.’
And as he spoke he pointed to the babe; for its face shone like the
morning star.
But Danae only held down her head, and sobbed out -
‘Tell me to what land I have come, unhappy that I am; and among
what men I have fallen!’
And he said, ‘This isle is called Seriphos, and I am a Hellen,
and dwell in it. I am the brother of Polydectes the king; and
men call me Dictys the netter, because I catch the fish of the shore.’
Then Danae fell down at his feet, and embraced his knees, and cried
-
‘Oh, sir, have pity upon a stranger, whom a cruel doom has driven
to your land; and let me live in your house as a servant; but treat
me honourably, for I was once a king’s daughter, and this my boy
(as you have truly said) is of no common race. I will not be a
charge to you, or eat the bread of idleness; for I am more skilful in
weaving and embroidery than all the maidens of my land.’
And she was going on; but Dictys stopped her, and raised her up, and
said -
‘My daughter, I am old, and my hairs are growing gray; while I
have no children to make my home cheerful. Come with me then,
and you shall be a daughter to me and to my wife, and this babe shall
be our grandchild. For I fear the Gods, and show hospitality to
all strangers; knowing that good deeds, like evil ones, always return
to those who do them.’
So Danae was comforted, and went home with Dictys the good fisherman,
and was a daughter to him and to his wife, till fifteen years were past.
PART II - HOW PERSEUS VOWED A RASH VOW
Fifteen years were past and gone, and the babe was now grown to be a
tall lad and a sailor, and went many voyages after merchandise to the
islands round. His mother called him Perseus; but all the people
in Seriphos said that he was not the son of mortal man, and called him
the son of Zeus, the king of the Immortals. For though he was
but fifteen, he was taller by a head than any man in the island; and
he was the most skilful of all in running and wrestling and boxing,
and in throwing the quoit and the javelin, and in rowing with the oar,
and in playing on the harp, and in all which befits a man. And
he was brave and truthful, gentle and courteous, for good old Dictys
had trained him well; and well it was for Perseus that he had done so.
For now Danae and her son fell into great danger, and Perseus had need
of all his wit to defend his mother and himself.
I said that Dictys’ brother was Polydectes, king of the island.
He was not a righteous man, like Dictys; but greedy, and cunning, and
cruel. And when he saw fair Danae, he wanted to marry her.
But she would not; for she did not love him, and cared for no one but
her boy, and her boy’s father, whom she never hoped to see again.
At last Polydectes became furious; and while Perseus was away at sea
he took poor Danae away from Dictys, saying, ‘If you will not
be my wife, you shall be my slave.’ So Danae was made a
slave, and had to fetch water from the well, and grind in the mill,
and perhaps was beaten, and wore a heavy chain, because she would not
marry that cruel king. But Perseus was far away over the seas
in the isle of Samos, little thinking how his mother was languishing
in grief.
Now one day at Samos, while the ship was lading, Perseus wandered into
a pleasant wood to get out of the sun, and sat down on the turf and
fell asleep. And as he slept a strange dream came to him - the
strangest dream which he had ever had in his life.
There came a lady to him through the wood, taller than he, or any mortal
man; but beautiful exceedingly, with great gray eyes, clear and piercing,
but strangely soft and mild. On her head was a helmet, and in
her hand a spear. And over her shoulder, above her long blue robes,
hung a goat-skin, which bore up a mighty shield of brass, polished like
a mirror. She stood and looked at him with her clear gray eyes;
and Perseus saw that her eye-lids never moved, nor her eyeballs, but
looked straight through and through him, and into his very heart, as
if she could see all the secrets of his soul, and knew all that he had
ever thought or longed for since the day that he was born. And
Perseus dropped his eyes, trembling and blushing, as the wonderful lady
spoke.
‘Perseus, you must do an errand for me.’
‘Who are you, lady? And how do you know my name?’
‘I am Pallas Athené; and I know the thoughts of all men’s
hearts, and discern their manhood or their baseness. And from
the souls of clay I turn away, and they are blest, but not by me.
They fatten at ease, like sheep in the pasture, and eat what they did
not sow, like oxen in the stall. They grow and spread, like the
gourd along the ground; but, like the gourd, they give no shade to the
traveller, and when they are ripe death gathers them, and they go down
unloved into hell, and their name vanishes out of the land.
‘But to the souls of fire I give more fire, and to those who are
manful I give a might more than man’s. These are the heroes,
the sons of the Immortals, who are blest, but not like the souls of
clay. For I drive them forth by strange paths, Perseus, that they
may fight the Titans and the monsters, the enemies of Gods and men.
Through doubt and need, danger and battle, I drive them; and some of
them are slain in the flower of youth, no man knows when or where; and
some of them win noble names, and a fair and green old age; but what
will be their latter end I know not, and none, save Zeus, the father
of Gods and men. Tell me now, Perseus, which of these two sorts
of men seem to you more blest?’
Then Perseus answered boldly: ‘Better to die in the flower of
youth, on the chance of winning a noble name, than to live at ease like
the sheep, and die unloved and unrenowned.’
Then that strange lady laughed, and held up her brazen shield, and cried:
‘See here, Perseus; dare you face such a monster as this, and
slay it, that I may place its head upon this shield?’
And in the mirror of the shield there appeared a face, and as Perseus
looked on it his blood ran cold. It was the face of a beautiful
woman; but her cheeks were pale as death, and her brows were knit with
everlasting pain, and her lips were thin and bitter like a snake’s;
and instead of hair, vipers wreathed about her temples, and shot out
their forked tongues; while round her head were folded wings like an
eagle’s, and upon her bosom claws of brass.
And Perseus looked awhile, and then said: ‘If there is anything
so fierce and foul on earth, it were a noble deed to kill it.
Where can I find the monster?’
Then the strange lady smiled again, and said: ‘Not yet; you are
too young, and too unskilled; for this is Medusa the Gorgon, the mother
of a monstrous brood. Return to your home, and do the work which
waits there for you. You must play the man in that before I can
think you worthy to go in search of the Gorgon.’
Then Perseus would have spoken, but the strange lady vanished, and he
awoke; and behold, it was a dream. But day and night Perseus saw
before him the face of that dreadful woman, with the vipers writhing
round her head.
So he returned home; and when he came to Seriphos, the first thing which
he heard was that his mother was a slave in the house of Polydectes.
Grinding his teeth with rage, he went out, and away to the king’s
palace, and through the men’s rooms, and the women’s rooms,
and so through all the house (for no one dared stop him, so terrible
and fair was he), till he found his mother sitting on the floor, turning
the stone hand-mill, and weeping as she turned it. And he lifted
her up, and kissed her, and bade her follow him forth. But before
they could pass out of the room Polydectes came in, raging. And
when Perseus saw him, he flew upon him as the mastiff flies on the boar.
‘Villain and tyrant!’ he cried; ‘is this your respect
for the Gods, and thy mercy to strangers and widows? You shall
die!’ And because he had no sword he caught up the stone
hand-mill, and lifted it to dash out Polydectes’ brains.
But his mother clung to him, shrieking, ‘Oh, my son, we are strangers
and helpless in the land; and if you kill the king, all the people will
fall on us, and we shall both die.’
Good Dictys, too, who had come in, entreated him. ‘Remember
that he is my brother. Remember how I have brought you up, and
trained you as my own son, and spare him for my sake.’
Then Perseus lowered his hand; and Polydectes, who had been trembling
all this while like a coward, because he knew that he was in the wrong,
let Perseus and his mother pass.
Perseus took his mother to the temple of Athené, and there the
priestess made her one of the temple-sweepers; for there they knew she
would be safe, and not even Polydectes would dare to drag her away from
the altar. And there Perseus, and the good Dictys, and his wife,
came to visit her every day; while Polydectes, not being able to get
what he wanted by force, cast about in his wicked heart how he might
get it by cunning.
Now he was sure that he could never get back Danae as long as Perseus
was in the island; so he made a plot to rid himself of him. And
first he pretended to have forgiven Perseus, and to have forgotten Danae;
so that, for a while, all went as smoothly as ever.
Next he proclaimed a great feast, and invited to it all the chiefs,
and landowners, and the young men of the island, and among them Perseus,
that they might all do him homage as their king, and eat of his banquet
in his hall.
On the appointed day they all came; and as the custom was then, each
guest brought his present with him to the king: one a horse, another
a shawl, or a ring, or a sword; and those who had nothing better brought
a basket of grapes, or of game; but Perseus brought nothing, for he
had nothing to bring, being but a poor sailor-lad.
He was ashamed, however, to go into the king’s presence without
his gift; and he was too proud to ask Dictys to lend him one.
So he stood at the door sorrowfully, watching the rich men go in; and
his face grew very red as they pointed at him, and smiled, and whispered,
‘What has that foundling to give?’
Now this was what Polydectes wanted; and as soon as he heard that Perseus
stood without, he bade them bring him in, and asked him scornfully before
them all, ‘Am I not your king, Perseus, and have I not invited
you to my feast? Where is your present, then?’
Perseus blushed and stammered, while all the proud men round laughed,
and some of them began jeering him openly. ‘This fellow
was thrown ashore here like a piece of weed or drift-wood, and yet he
is too proud to bring a gift to the king.’
‘And though he does not know who his father is, he is vain enough
to let the old women call him the son of Zeus.’
And so forth, till poor Perseus grew mad with shame, and hardly knowing
what he said, cried out, - ‘A present! who are you who talk of
presents? See if I do not bring a nobler one than all of yours
together!’
So he said boasting; and yet he felt in his heart that he was braver
than all those scoffers, and more able to do some glorious deed.
‘Hear him! Hear the boaster! What is it to be?’
cried they all, laughing louder than ever.
Then his dream at Samos came into his mind, and he cried aloud, ‘The
head of the Gorgon.’
He was half afraid after he had said the words for all laughed louder
than ever, and Polydectes loudest of all.
‘You have promised to bring me the Gorgon’s head?
Then never appear again in this island without it. Go!’
Perseus ground his teeth with rage, for he saw that he had fallen into
a trap; but his promise lay upon him, and he went out without a word.
Down to the cliffs he went, and looked across the broad blue sea; and
he wondered if his dream were true, and prayed in the bitterness of
his soul.
‘Pallas Athené, was my dream true? and shall I slay the
Gorgon? If thou didst really show me her face, let me not come
to shame as a liar and boastful. Rashly and angrily I promised;
but cunningly and patiently will I perform.’
But there was no answer, nor sign; neither thunder nor any appearance;
not even a cloud in the sky.
And three times Perseus called weeping, ‘Rashly and angrily I
promised; but cunningly and patiently will I perform.’
Then he saw afar off above the sea a small white cloud, as bright as
silver. And it came on, nearer and nearer, till its brightness
dazzled his eyes.
Perseus wondered at that strange cloud, for there was no other cloud
all round the sky; and he trembled as it touched the cliff below.
And as it touched, it broke, and parted, and within it appeared Pallas
Athené, as he had seen her at Samos in his dream, and beside
her a young man more light-limbed than the stag, whose eyes were like
sparks of fire. By his side was a scimitar of diamond, all of
one clear precious stone, and on his feet were golden sandals, from
the heels of which grew living wings.
They looked upon Perseus keenly, and yet they never moved their eyes;
and they came up the cliffs towards him more swiftly than the sea-gull,
and yet they never moved their feet, nor did the breeze stir the robes
about their limbs; only the wings of the youth’s sandals quivered,
like a hawk’s when he hangs above the cliff. And Perseus
fell down and worshipped, for he knew that they were more than man.
But Athené stood before him and spoke gently, and bid him have
no fear. Then -
‘Perseus,’ she said, ‘he who overcomes in one trial
merits thereby a sharper trial still. You have braved Polydectes,
and done manfully. Dare you brave Medusa the Gorgon?’
And Perseus said, ‘Try me; for since you spoke to me in Samos
a new soul has come into my breast, and I should be ashamed not to dare
anything which I can do. Show me, then, how I can do this!’
‘Perseus,’ said Athené, ‘think well before
you attempt; for this deed requires a seven years’ journey, in
which you cannot repent or turn back nor escape; but if your heart fails
you, you must die in the Unshapen Land, where no man will ever find
your bones.’
‘Better so than live here, useless and despised,’ said Perseus.
‘Tell me, then, oh tell me, fair and wise Goddess, of your great
kindness and condescension, how I can do but this one thing, and then,
if need be, die!’
Then Athené smiled and said -
‘Be patient, and listen; for if you forget my words, you will
indeed die. You must go northward to the country of the Hyperboreans,
who live beyond the pole, at the sources of the cold north wind, till
you find the three Gray Sisters, who have but one eye and one tooth
between them. You must ask them the way to the Nymphs, the daughters
of the Evening Star, who dance about the golden tree, in the Atlantic
island of the west. They will tell you the way to the Gorgon,
that you may slay her, my enemy, the mother of monstrous beasts.
Once she was a maiden as beautiful as morn, till in her pride she sinned
a sin at which the sun hid his face; and from that day her hair was
turned to vipers, and her hands to eagle’s claws; and her heart
was filled with shame and rage, and her lips with bitter venom; and
her eyes became so terrible that whosoever looks on them is turned to
stone; and her children are the winged horse and the giant of the golden
sword; and her grandchildren are Echidna the witch-adder, and Geryon
the three-headed tyrant, who feeds his herds beside the herds of hell.
So she became the sister of the Gorgons, Stheino and Euryte the abhorred,
the daughters of the Queen of the Sea. Touch them not, for they
are immortal; but bring me only Medusa’s head.’
‘And I will bring it!’ said Perseus; ‘but how am I
to escape her eyes? Will she not freeze me too into stone?’
‘You shall take this polished shield,’ said Athené,
‘and when you come near her look not at her herself, but at her
image in the brass; so you may strike her safely. And when you
have struck off her head, wrap it, with your face turned away, in the
folds of the goat-skin on which the shield hangs, the hide of Amaltheié,
the nurse of the Ægis-holder. So you will bring it safely
back to me, and win to yourself renown, and a place among the heroes
who feast with the Immortals upon the peak where no winds blow.’
Then Perseus said, ‘I will go, though I die in going. But
how shall I cross the seas without a ship? And who will show me
my way? And when I find her, how shall I slay her, if her scales
be iron and brass?’
Then the young man spoke: ‘These sandals of mine will bear you
across the seas, and over hill and dale like a bird, as they bear me
all day long; for I am Hermes, the far-famed Argus-slayer, the messenger
of the Immortals who dwell on Olympus.’
Then Perseus fell down and worshipped, while the young man spoke again:
‘The sandals themselves will guide you on the road, for they are
divine and cannot stray; and this sword itself, the Argus-slayer, will
kill her, for it is divine, and needs no second stroke. Arise,
and gird them on, and go forth.’
So Perseus arose, and girded on the sandals and the sword.
And Athené cried, ‘Now leap from the cliff and be gone.’
But Perseus lingered.
‘May I not bid farewell to my mother and to Dictys? And
may I not offer burnt-offerings to you, and to Hermes the far-famed
Argus-slayer, and to Father Zeus above?’
‘You shall not bid farewell to your mother, lest your heart relent
at her weeping. I will comfort her and Dictys until you return
in peace. Nor shall you offer burnt-offerings to the Olympians;
for your offering shall be Medusa’s head. Leap, and trust
in the armour of the Immortals.’
Then Perseus looked down the cliff and shuddered; but he was ashamed
to show his dread. Then he thought of Medusa and the renown before
him, and he leaped into the empty air.
And behold, instead of falling he floated, and stood, and ran along
the sky. He looked back, but Athené had vanished, and Hermes;
and the sandals led him on northward ever, like a crane who follows
the spring toward the Ister fens.
PART III - HOW PERSEUS SLEW THE GORGON
So Perseus started on his journey, going dry-shod over land and sea;
and his heart was high and joyful, for the winged sandals bore him each
day a seven days’ journey.
And he went by Cythnus, and by Ceos, and the pleasant Cyclades to Attica;
and past Athens and Thebes, and the Copaic lake, and up the vale of
Cephissus, and past the peaks of OEta and Pindus, and over the rich
Thessalian plains, till the sunny hills of Greece were behind him, and
before him were the wilds of the north. Then he passed the Thracian
mountains, and many a barbarous tribe, Paeons and Dardans and Triballi,
till he came to the Ister stream, and the dreary Scythian plains.
And he walked across the Ister dry-shod, and away through the moors
and fens, day and night toward the bleak north-west, turning neither
to the right hand nor the left, till he came to the Unshapen Land, and
the place which has no name.
And seven days he walked through it, on a path which few can tell; for
those who have trodden it like least to speak of it, and those who go
there again in dreams are glad enough when they awake; till he came
to the edge of the everlasting night, where the air was full of feathers,
and the soil was hard with ice; and there at last he found the three
Gray Sisters, by the shore of the freezing sea, nodding upon a white
log of drift-wood, beneath the cold white winter moon; and they chaunted
a low song together, ‘Why the old times were better than the new.’
There was no living thing around them, not a fly, not a moss upon the
rocks. Neither seal nor sea-gull dare come near, lest the ice
should clutch them in its claws. The surge broke up in foam, but
it fell again in flakes of snow; and it frosted the hair of the three
Gray Sisters, and the bones in the ice-cliff above their heads.
They passed the eye from one to the other, but for all that they could
not see; and they passed the tooth from one to the other, but for all
that they could not eat; and they sat in the full glare of the moon,
but they were none the warmer for her beams. And Perseus pitied
the three Gray Sisters; but they did not pity themselves.
So he said, ‘Oh, venerable mothers, wisdom is the daughter of
old age. You therefore should know many things. Tell me,
if you can, the path to the Gorgon.’
Then one cried, ‘Who is this who reproaches us with old age?’
And another, ‘This is the voice of one of the children of men.’
And he, ‘I do not reproach, but honour your old age, and I am
one of the sons of men and of the heroes. The rulers of Olympus
have sent me to you to ask the way to the Gorgon.’
Then one, ‘There are new rulers in Olympus, and all new things
are bad.’ And another, ‘We hate your rulers, and the
heroes, and all the children of men. We are the kindred of the
Titans, and the Giants, and the Gorgons, and the ancient monsters of
the deep.’ And another, ‘Who is this rash and insolent
man who pushes unbidden into our world?’ And the first,
‘There never was such a world as ours, nor will be; if we let
him see it, he will spoil it all.’
Then one cried, ‘Give me the eye, that I may see him;’ and
another, ‘Give me the tooth, that I may bite him.’
But Perseus, when he saw that they were foolish and proud, and did not
love the children of men, left off pitying them, and said to himself,
‘Hungry men must needs be hasty; if I stay making many words here,
I shall be starved.’ Then he stepped close to them, and
watched till they passed the eye from hand to hand. And as they
groped about between themselves, he held out his own hand gently, till
one of them put the eye into it, fancying that it was the hand of her
sister. Then he sprang back, and laughed, and cried -
‘Cruel and proud old women, I have your eye; and I will throw
it into the sea, unless you tell me the path to the Gorgon, and swear
to me that you tell me right.’
Then they wept, and chattered, and scolded; but in vain. They
were forced to tell the truth, though, when they told it, Perseus could
hardly make out the road.
‘You must go,’ they said, ‘foolish boy, to the southward,
into the ugly glare of the sun, till you come to Atlas the Giant, who
holds the heaven and the earth apart. And you must ask his daughters,
the Hesperides, who are young and foolish like yourself. And now
give us back our eye, for we have forgotten all the rest.’
So Perseus gave them back their eye; but instead of using it, they nodded
and fell fast asleep, and were turned into blocks of ice, till the tide
came up and washed them all away. And now they float up and down
like icebergs for ever, weeping whenever they meet the sunshine, and
the fruitful summer and the warm south wind, which fill young hearts
with joy.
But Perseus leaped away to the southward, leaving the snow and the ice
behind: past the isle of the Hyperboreans, and the tin isles, and the
long Iberian shore, while the sun rose higher day by day upon a bright
blue summer sea. And the terns and the sea-gulls swept laughing
round his head, and called to him to stop and play, and the dolphins
gambolled up as he passed, and offered to carry him on their backs.
And all night long the sea-nymphs sang sweetly, and the Tritons blew
upon their conchs, as they played round Galataea their queen, in her
car of pearled shells. Day by day the sun rose higher, and leaped
more swiftly into the sea at night, and more swiftly out of the sea
at dawn; while Perseus skimmed over the billows like a sea-gull, and
his feet were never wetted; and leapt on from wave to wave, and his
limbs were never weary, till he saw far away a mighty mountain, all
rose-red in the setting sun. Its feet were wrapped in forests,
and its head in wreaths of cloud; and Perseus knew that it was Atlas,
who holds the heavens and the earth apart.
He came to the mountain, and leapt on shore, and wandered upward, among
pleasant valleys and waterfalls, and tall trees and strange ferns and
flowers; but there was no smoke rising from any glen, nor house, nor
sign of man.
At last he heard sweet voices singing; and he guessed that he was come
to the garden of the Nymphs, the daughters of the Evening Star.
They sang like nightingales among the thickets, and Perseus stopped
to hear their song; but the words which they spoke he could not understand;
no, nor no man after him for many a hundred years. So he stepped
forward and saw them dancing, hand in hand around the charmed tree,
which bent under its golden fruit; and round the tree-foot was coiled
the dragon, old Ladon the sleepless snake, who lies there for ever,
listening to the song of the maidens, blinking and watching with dry
bright eyes.
Then Perseus stopped, not because he feared the dragon, but because
he was bashful before those fair maids; but when they saw him, they
too stopped, and called to him with trembling voices -
‘Who are you? Are you Heracles the mighty, who will come
to rob our garden, and carry off our golden fruit?’ And
he answered -
‘I am not Heracles the mighty, and I want none of your golden
fruit. Tell me, fair Nymphs, the way which leads to the Gorgon,
that I may go on my way and slay her.’
‘Not yet, not yet, fair boy; come dance with us around the tree
in the garden which knows no winter, the home of the south wind and
the sun. Come hither and play with us awhile; we have danced alone
here for a thousand years, and our hearts are weary with longing for
a playfellow. So come, come, come!’
‘I cannot dance with you, fair maidens; for I must do the errand
of the Immortals. So tell me the way to the Gorgon, lest I wander
and perish in the waves.’
Then they sighed and wept; and answered - ‘The Gorgon! she will
freeze you into stone.’
‘It is better to die like a hero than to live like an ox in a
stall. The Immortals have lent me weapons, and they will give
me wit to use them.’
Then they sighed again and answered, ‘Fair boy, if you are bent
on your own ruin, be it so. We know not the way to the Gorgon;
but we will ask the giant Atlas, above upon the mountain peak, the brother
of our father, the silver Evening Star. He sits aloft and sees
across the ocean, and far away into the Unshapen Land.’
So they went up the mountain to Atlas their uncle, and Perseus went
up with them. And they found the giant kneeling, as he held the
heavens and the earth apart.
They asked him, and he answered mildly, pointing to the sea-board with
his mighty hand, ‘I can see the Gorgons lying on an island far
away, but this youth can never come near them, unless he has the hat
of darkness, which whosoever wears cannot be seen.’
Then cried Perseus, ‘Where is that hat, that I may find it?’
But the giant smiled. ‘No living mortal can find that hat,
for it lies in the depths of Hades, in the regions of the dead.
But my nieces are immortal, and they shall fetch it for you, if you
will promise me one thing and keep your faith.’
Then Perseus promised; and the giant said, ‘When you come back
with the head of Medusa, you shall show me the beautiful horror, that
I may lose my feeling and my breathing, and become a stone for ever;
for it is weary labour for me to hold the heavens and the earth apart.’
Then Perseus promised, and the eldest of the Nymphs went down, and into
a dark cavern among the cliffs, out of which came smoke and thunder,
for it was one of the mouths of Hell.
And Perseus and the Nymphs sat down seven days, and waited trembling,
till the Nymph came up again; and her face was pale, and her eyes dazzled
with the light, for she had been long in the dreary darkness; but in
her hand was the magic hat.
Then all the Nymphs kissed Perseus, and wept over him a long while;
but he was only impatient to be gone. And at last they put the
hat upon his head, and he vanished out of their sight.
But Perseus went on boldly, past many an ugly sight, far away into the
heart of the Unshapen Land, beyond the streams of Ocean, to the isles
where no ship cruises, where is neither night nor day, where nothing
is in its right place, and nothing has a name; till he heard the rustle
of the Gorgons’ wings and saw the glitter of their brazen talons;
and then he knew that it was time to halt, lest Medusa should freeze
him into stone.
He thought awhile with himself, and remembered Athené’s
words. He rose aloft into the air, and held the mirror of the
shield above his head, and looked up into it that he might see all that
was below him.
And he saw the three Gorgons sleeping as huge as elephants. He
knew that they could not see him, because the hat of darkness hid him;
and yet he trembled as he sank down near them, so terrible were those
brazen claws.
Two of the Gorgons were foul as swine, and lay sleeping heavily, as
swine sleep, with their mighty wings outspread; but Medusa tossed to
and fro restlessly, and as she tossed Perseus pitied her, she looked
so fair and sad. Her plumage was like the rainbow, and her face
was like the face of a nymph, only her eyebrows were knit, and her lips
clenched, with everlasting care and pain; and her long neck gleamed
so white in the mirror that Perseus had not the heart to strike, and
said, ‘Ah, that it had been either of her sisters!’
But as he looked, from among her tresses the vipers’ heads awoke,
and peeped up with their bright dry eyes, and showed their fangs, and
hissed; and Medusa, as she tossed, threw back her wings and showed her
brazen claws; and Perseus saw that, for all her beauty, she was as foul
and venomous as the rest.
Then he came down and stepped to her boldly, and looked steadfastly
on his mirror, and struck with Herpé stoutly once; and he did
not need to strike again.
Then he wrapped the head in the goat-skin, turning away his eyes, and
sprang into the air aloft, faster than he ever sprang before.
For Medusa’s wings and talons rattled as she sank dead upon the
rocks; and her two foul sisters woke, and saw her lying dead.
Into the air they sprang yelling and looked for him who had done the
deed. Thrice they swung round and round, like hawks who beat for
a partridge; and thrice they snuffed round and round, like hounds who
draw upon a deer. At last they struck upon the scent of the blood,
and they checked for a moment to make sure; and then on they rushed
with a fearful howl, while the wind rattled hoarse in their wings.
On they rushed, sweeping and flapping, like eagles after a hare; and
Perseus’ blood ran cold, for all his courage, as he saw them come
howling on his track; and he cried, ‘Bear me well now, brave sandals,
for the hounds of Death are at my heels!’
And well the brave sandals bore him, aloft through cloud and sunshine,
across the shoreless sea; and fast followed the hounds of Death, as
the roar of their wings came down the wind. But the roar came
down fainter and fainter, and the howl of their voices died away; for
the sandals were too swift, even for Gorgons, and by nightfall they
were far behind, two black specks in the southern sky, till the sun
sank and he saw them no more.
Then he came again to Atlas, and the garden of the Nymphs; and when
the giant heard him coming he groaned, and said, ‘Fulfil thy promise
to me.’ Then Perseus held up to him the Gorgon’s head,
and he had rest from all his toil; for he became a crag of stone, which
sleeps for ever far above the clouds.
Then he thanked the Nymphs, and asked them, ‘By what road shall
I go homeward again, for I wandered far round in coming hither?’
And they wept and cried, ‘Go home no more, but stay and play with
us, the lonely maidens, who dwell for ever far away from Gods and men.’
But he refused, and they told him his road, and said, ‘Take with
you this magic fruit, which, if you eat once, you will not hunger for
seven days. For you must go eastward and eastward ever, over the
doleful Lybian shore, which Poseidon gave to Father Zeus, when he burst
open the Bosphorus and the Hellespont, and drowned the fair Lectonian
land. And Zeus took that land in exchange, a fair bargain, much
bad ground for a little good, and to this day it lies waste and desert
with shingle, and rock, and sand.’
Then they kissed Perseus, and wept over him, and he leapt down the mountain,
and went on, lessening and lessening like a sea-gull, away and out to
sea.
PART IV - HOW PERSEUS CAME TO THE ÆTHIOPS
So Perseus flitted onward to the north-east, over many a league of sea,
till he came to the rolling sand-hills and the dreary Lybian shore.
And he flitted on across the desert: over rock-ledges, and banks of
shingle, and level wastes of sand, and shell-drifts bleaching in the
sunshine, and the skeletons of great sea-monsters, and dead bones of
ancient giants, strewn up and down upon the old sea-floor. And
as he went the blood-drops fell to the earth from the Gorgon’s
head, and became poisonous asps and adders, which breed in the desert
to this day.
Over the sands he went, - he never knew how far or how long, feeding
on the fruit which the Nymphs had given him, till he saw the hills of
the Psylli, and the Dwarfs who fought with cranes. Their spears
were of reeds and rushes, and their houses of the egg-shells of the
cranes; and Perseus laughed, and went his way to the north-east, hoping
all day long to see the blue Mediterranean sparkling, that he might
fly across it to his home.
But now came down a mighty wind, and swept him back southward toward
the desert. All day long he strove against it; but even the winged
sandals could not prevail. So he was forced to float down the
wind all night; and when the morning dawned there was nothing to be
seen, save the same old hateful waste of sand.
And out of the north the sandstorms rushed upon him, blood-red pillars
and wreaths, blotting out the noonday sun; and Perseus fled before them,
lest he should be choked by the burning dust. At last the gale
fell calm, and he tried to go northward again; but again came down the
sandstorms, and swept him back into the waste, and then all was calm
and cloudless as before. Seven days he strove against the storms,
and seven days he was driven back, till he was spent with thirst and
hunger, and his tongue clove to the roof of his mouth. Here and
there he fancied that he saw a fair lake, and the sunbeams shining on
the water; but when he came to it it vanished at his feet, and there
was nought but burning sand. And if he had not been of the race
of the Immortals, he would have perished in the waste; but his life
was strong within him, because it was more than man’s.
Then he cried to Athené, and said -
‘Oh, fair and pure, if thou hearest me, wilt thou leave me here
to die of drought? I have brought thee the Gorgon’s head
at thy bidding, and hitherto thou hast prospered my journey; dost thou
desert me at the last? Else why will not these immortal sandals
prevail, even against the desert storms? Shall I never see my
mother more, and the blue ripple round Seriphos, and the sunny hills
of Hellas?’
So he prayed; and after he had prayed there was a great silence.
The heaven was still above his head, and the sand was still beneath
his feet; and Perseus looked up, but there was nothing but the blinding
sun in the blinding blue; and round him, but there was nothing but the
blinding sand.
And Perseus stood still a while, and waited, and said, ‘Surely
I am not here without the will of the Immortals, for Athené will
not lie. Were not these sandals to lead me in the right road?
Then the road in which I have tried to go must be a wrong road.’
Then suddenly his ears were opened, and he heard the sound of running
water.
And at that his heart was lifted up, though he scarcely dare believe
his ears; and weary as he was, he hurried forward, though he could scarcely
stand upright; and within a bowshot of him was a glen in the sand, and
marble rocks, and date-trees, and a lawn of gay green grass. And
through the lawn a streamlet sparkled and wandered out beyond the trees,
and vanished in the sand.
The water trickled among the rocks, and a pleasant breeze rustled in
the dry date-branches and Perseus laughed for joy, and leapt down the
cliff, and drank of the cool water, and ate of the dates, and slept
upon the turf, and leapt up and went forward again: but not toward the
north this time; for he said, ‘Surely Athené hath sent
me hither, and will not have me go homeward yet. What if there
be another noble deed to be done, before I see the sunny hills of Hellas?’
So he went east, and east for ever, by fresh oases and fountains, date-palms,
and lawns of grass, till he saw before him a mighty mountain-wall, all
rose-red in the setting sun.
Then he towered in the air like an eagle, for his limbs were strong
again; and he flew all night across the mountain till the day began
to dawn, and rosy-fingered Eos came blushing up the sky. And then,
behold, beneath him was the long green garden of Egypt and the shining
stream of Nile.
And he saw cities walled up to heaven, and temples, and obelisks, and
pyramids, and giant Gods of stone. And he came down amid fields
of barley, and flax, and millet, and clambering gourds; and saw the
people coming out of the gates of a great city, and setting to work,
each in his place, among the water-courses, parting the streams among
the plants cunningly with their feet, according to the wisdom of the
Egyptians. But when they saw him they all stopped their work,
and gathered round him, and cried -
‘Who art thou, fair youth? and what bearest thou beneath thy goat-skin
there? Surely thou art one of the Immortals; for thy skin is white
like ivory, and ours is red like clay. Thy hair is like threads
of gold, and ours is black and curled. Surely thou art one of
the Immortals;’ and they would have worshipped him then and there;
but Perseus said -
‘I am not one of the Immortals; but I am a hero of the Hellens.
And I have slain the Gorgon in the wilderness, and bear her head with
me. Give me food, therefore, that I may go forward and finish
my work.’
Then they gave him food, and fruit, and wine; but they would not let
him go. And when the news came into the city that the Gorgon was
slain, the priests came out to meet him, and the maidens, with songs
and dances, and timbrels and harps; and they would have brought him
to their temple and to their king; but Perseus put on the hat of darkness,
and vanished away out of their sight.
Therefore the Egyptians looked long for his return, but in vain, and
worshipped him as a hero, and made a statue of him in Chemmis, which
stood for many a hundred years; and they said that he appeared to them
at times, with sandals a cubit long; and that whenever he appeared the
season was fruitful, and the Nile rose high that year.
Then Perseus went to the eastward, along the Red Sea shore; and then,
because he was afraid to go into the Arabian deserts, he turned northward
once more, and this time no storm hindered him.
He went past the Isthmus, and Mount Casius, and the vast Serbonian bog,
and up the shore of Palestine, where the dark-faced Æthiops dwelt.
He flew on past pleasant hills and valleys, like Argos itself, or Lacedaemon,
or the fair Vale of Tempe. But the lowlands were all drowned by
floods, and the highlands blasted by fire, and the hills heaved like
a babbling cauldron, before the wrath of King Poseidon, the shaker of
the earth.
And Perseus feared to go inland, but flew along the shore above the
sea; and he went on all the day, and the sky was black with smoke; and
he went on all the night, and the sky was red with flame.
And at the dawn of day he looked toward the cliffs; and at the water’s
edge, under a black rock, he saw a white image stand.
‘This,’ thought he, ‘must surely be the statue of
some sea-God; I will go near and see what kind of Gods these barbarians
worship.’
So he came near; but when he came, it was no statue, but a maiden of
flesh and blood; for he could see her tresses streaming in the breeze;
and as he came closer still, he could see how she shrank and shivered
when the waves sprinkled her with cold salt spray. Her arms were
spread above her head, and fastened to the rock with chains of brass;
and her head drooped on her bosom, either with sleep, or weariness,
or grief. But now and then she looked up and wailed, and called
her mother; yet she did not see Perseus, for the cap of darkness was
on his head.
Full of pity and indignation, Perseus drew near and looked upon the
maid. Her cheeks were darker than his were, and her hair was blue-black
like a hyacinth; but Perseus thought, ‘I have never seen so beautiful
a maiden; no, not in all our isles. Surely she is a king’s
daughter. Do barbarians treat their kings’ daughters thus?
She is too fair, at least, to have done any wrong I will speak to her.’
And, lifting the hat from his head, he flashed into her sight.
She shrieked with terror, and tried to hide her face with her hair,
for she could not with her hands; but Perseus cried -
‘Do not fear me, fair one; I am a Hellen, and no barbarian.
What cruel men have bound you? But first I will set you free.’
And he tore at the fetters, but they were too strong for him; while
the maiden cried -
‘Touch me not; I am accursed, devoted as a victim to the sea-Gods.
They will slay you, if you dare to set me free.’
‘Let them try,’ said Perseus; and drawing, Herpé
from his thigh, he cut through the brass as if it had been flax.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘you belong to me, and not to these
sea-Gods, whosoever they may be!’ But she only called the
more on her mother.
‘Why call on your mother? She can be no mother to have left
you here. If a bird is dropped out of the nest, it belongs to
the man who picks it up. If a jewel is cast by the wayside, it
is his who dare win it and wear it, as I will win you and will wear
you. I know now why Pallas Athené sent me hither.
She sent me to gain a prize worth all my toil and more.’
And he clasped her in his arms, and cried, ‘Where are these sea-Gods,
cruel and unjust, who doom fair maids to death? I carry the weapons
of Immortals. Let them measure their strength against mine!
But tell me, maiden, who you are, and what dark fate brought you here.’
And she answered, weeping -
‘I am the daughter of Cepheus, King of Iopa, and my mother is
Cassiopoeia of the beautiful tresses, and they called me Andromeda,
as long as life was mine. And I stand bound here, hapless that
I am, for the sea-monster’s food, to atone for my mother’s
sin. For she boasted of me once that I was fairer than Atergatis,
Queen of the Fishes; so she in her wrath sent the sea-floods, and her
brother the Fire King sent the earthquakes, and wasted all the land,
and after the floods a monster bred of the slime, who devours all living
things. And now he must devour me, guiltless though I am - me
who never harmed a living thing, nor saw a fish upon the shore but I
gave it life, and threw it back into the sea; for in our land we eat
no fish, for fear of Atergatis their queen. Yet the priests say
that nothing but my blood can atone for a sin which I never committed.’
But Perseus laughed, and said, ‘A sea-monster? I have fought
with worse than him: I would have faced Immortals for your sake; how
much more a beast of the sea?’
Then Andromeda looked up at him, and new hope was kindled in her breast,
so proud and fair did he stand, with one hand round her, and in the
other the glittering sword. But she only sighed, and wept the
more, and cried -
‘Why will you die, young as you are? Is there not death
and sorrow enough in the world already? It is noble for me to
die, that I may save the lives of a whole people; but you, better than
them all, why should I slay you too? Go you your way; I must go
mine.’
But Perseus cried, ‘Not so; for the Lords of Olympus, whom I serve,
are the friends of the heroes, and help them on to noble deeds.
Led by them, I slew the Gorgon, the beautiful horror; and not without
them do I come hither, to slay this monster with that same Gorgon’s
head. Yet hide your eyes when I leave you, lest the sight of it
freeze you too to stone.’
But the maiden answered nothing, for she could not believe his words.
And then, suddenly looking up, she pointed to the sea, and shrieked
-
‘There he comes, with the sunrise, as they promised. I must
die now. How shall I endure it? Oh, go! Is it not
dreadful enough to be torn piecemeal, without having you to look on?’
And she tried to thrust him away.
But he said, ‘I go; yet promise me one thing ere I go: that if
I slay this beast you will be my wife, and come back with me to my kingdom
in fruitful Argos, for I am a king’s heir. Promise me, and
seal it with a kiss.’
Then she lifted up her face, and kissed him; and Perseus laughed for
joy, and flew upward, while Andromeda crouched trembling on the rock,
waiting for what might befall.
On came the great sea-monster, coasting along like a huge black galley,
lazily breasting the ripple, and stopping at times by creek or headland
to watch for the laughter of girls at their bleaching, or cattle pawing
on the sand-hills, or boys bathing on the beach. His great sides
were fringed with clustering shells and sea-weeds, and the water gurgled
in and out of his wide jaws, as he rolled along, dripping and glistening
in the beams of the morning sun.
At last he saw Andromeda, and shot forward to take his prey, while the
waves foamed white behind him, and before him the fish fled leaping.
Then down from the height of the air fell Perseus like a shooting star;
down to the crests of the waves, while Andromeda hid her face as he
shouted; and then there was silence for a while.
At last she looked up trembling, and saw Perseus springing toward her;
and instead of the monster a long black rock, with the sea rippling
quietly round it.
Who then so proud as Perseus, as he leapt back to the rock, and lifted
his fair Andromeda in his arms, and flew with her to the cliff-top,
as a falcon carries a dove?
Who so proud as Perseus, and who so joyful as all the Æthiop people?
For they had stood watching the monster from the cliffs, wailing for
the maiden’s fate. And already a messenger had gone to Cepheus
and Cassiopoeia, where they sat in sackcloth and ashes on the ground,
in the innermost palace chambers, awaiting their daughter’s end.
And they came, and all the city with them, to see the wonder, with songs
and with dances, with cymbals and harps, and received their daughter
back again, as one alive from the dead.
Then Cepheus said, ‘Hero of the Hellens, stay here with me and
be my son-in-law, and I will give you the half of my kingdom.’
‘I will be your son-in-law,’ said Perseus, ‘but of
your kingdom I will have none, for I long after the pleasant land of
Greece, and my mother who waits for me at home.’
Then Cepheus said, ‘You must not take my daughter away at once,
for she is to us like one alive from the dead. Stay with us here
a year, and after that you shall return with honour.’ And
Perseus consented; but before he went to the palace he bade the people
bring stones and wood, and built three altars, one to Athené,
and one to Hermes, and one to Father Zeus, and offered bullocks and
rams.
And some said, ‘This is a pious man;’ yet the priests said,
‘The Sea Queen will be yet more fierce against us, because her
monster is slain.’ But they were afraid to speak aloud,
for they feared the Gorgon’s head. So they went up to the
palace; and when they came in, there stood in the hall Phineus, the
brother of Cepheus, chafing like a bear robbed of her whelps, and with
him his sons, and his servants, and many an armed man; and he cried
to Cepheus -
‘You shall not marry your daughter to this stranger, of whom no
one knows even the name. Was not Andromeda betrothed to my son?
And now she is safe again, has he not a right to claim her?’
But Perseus laughed, and answered, ‘If your son is in want of
a bride, let him save a maiden for himself. As yet he seems but
a helpless bride-groom. He left this one to die, and dead she
is to him. I saved her alive, and alive she is to me, but to no
one else. Ungrateful man! have I not saved your land, and the
lives of your sons and daughters, and will you requite me thus?
Go, or it will be worse for you.’ But all the men-at-arms
drew their swords, and rushed on him like wild beasts.
Then he unveiled the Gorgon’s head, and said, ‘This has
delivered my bride from one wild beast: it shall deliver her from many.’
And as he spoke Phineus and all his men-at-arms stopped short, and stiffened
each man as he stood; and before Perseus had drawn the goat-skin over
the face again, they were all turned into stone.
Then Persons bade the people bring levers and roll them out; and what
was done with them after that I cannot tell.
So they made a great wedding-feast, which lasted seven whole days, and
who so happy as Perseus and Andromeda?
But on the eighth night Perseus dreamed a dream; and he saw standing
beside him Pallas Athené, as he had seen her in Seriphos, seven
long years before; and she stood and called him by name, and said -
‘Perseus, you have played the man, and see, you have your reward.
Know now that the Gods are just, and help him who helps himself.
Now give me here Herpé the sword, and the sandals, and the hat
of darkness, that I may give them back to their owners; but the Gorgon’s
head you shall keep a while, for you will need it in your land of Greece.
Then you shall lay it up in my temple at Seriphos, that I may wear it
on my shield for ever, a terror to the Titans and the monsters, and
the foes of Gods and men. And as for this land, I have appeased
the sea and the fire, and there shall be no more floods nor earthquakes.
But let the people build altars to Father Zeus, and to me, and worship
the Immortals, the Lords of heaven and earth.’
And Perseus rose to give her the sword, and the cap, and the sandals;
but he woke, and his dream vanished away. And yet it was not altogether
a dream; for the goat-skin with the head was in its place; but the sword,
and the cap, and the sandals were gone, and Perseus never saw them more.
Then a great awe fell on Perseus; and he went out in the morning to
the people, and told his dream, and bade them build altars to Zeus,
the Father of Gods and men, and to Athené, who gives wisdom to
heroes; and fear no more the earthquakes and the floods, but sow and
build in peace. And they did so for a while, and prospered; but
after Perseus was gone they forgot Zeus and Athené, and worshipped
again Atergatis the queen, and the undying fish of the sacred lake,
where Deucalion’s deluge was swallowed up, and they burnt their
children before the Fire King, till Zeus was angry with that foolish
people, and brought a strange nation against them out of Egypt, who
fought against them and wasted them utterly, and dwelt in their cities
for many a hundred years.
PART V - HOW PERSEUS CAME HOME AGAIN
And when a year was ended Perseus hired Phoenicians from Tyre, and cut
down cedars, and built himself a noble galley; and painted its cheeks
with vermilion, and pitched its sides with pitch; and in it he put Andromeda,
and all her dowry of jewels, and rich shawls, and spices from the East;
and great was the weeping when they rowed away. But the remembrance
of his brave deed was left behind; and Andromeda’s rock was shown
at Iopa in Palestine till more than a thousand years were past.
So Perseus and the Phoenicians rowed to the westward, across the sea
of Crete, till they came to the blue Ægean and the pleasant Isles
of Hellas, and Seriphos, his ancient home.
Then he left his galley on the beach, and went up as of old; and he
embraced his mother, and Dictys his good foster-father, and they wept
over each other a long while, for it was seven years and more since
they had met.
Then Perseus went out, and up to the hall of Polydectes; and underneath
the goat-skin he bore the Gorgon’s head.
And when he came into the hall, Polydectes sat at the table-head, and
all his nobles and landowners on either side, each according to his
rank, feasting on the fish and the goat’s flesh, and drinking
the blood-red wine. The harpers harped, and the revellers shouted,
and the wine-cups rang merrily as they passed from hand to hand, and
great was the noise in the hall of Polydectes.
Then Persons stood upon the threshold, and called to the king by name.
But none of the guests knew Perseus, for he was changed by his long
journey. He had gone out a boy, and he was come home a hero; his
eye shone like an eagle’s, and his beard was like a lion’s
beard, and he stood up like a wild bull in his pride.
But Polydectes the wicked knew him, and hardened his heart still more;
and scornfully he called -
‘Ah, foundling! have you found it more easy to promise than to
fulfil?’
‘Those whom the Gods help fulfil their promises; and those who
despise them, reap as they have sown. Behold the Gorgon’s
head!’
Then Perseus drew back the goat-skin, and held aloft the Gorgon’s
head.
Pale grew Polydectes and his guests as they looked upon that dreadful
face. They tried to rise up from their seats: but from their seats
they never rose, but stiffened, each man where he sat, into a ring of
cold gray stones.
Then Perseus turned and left them, and went down to his galley in the
bay; and he gave the kingdom to good Dictys, and sailed away with his
mother and his bride.
And Polydectes and his guests sat still, with the wine-cups before them
on the board, till the rafters crumbled down above their heads, and
the walls behind their backs, and the table crumbled down between them,
and the grass sprung up about their feet: but Polydectes and his guests
sit on the hillside, a ring of gray stones until this day.
But Perseus rowed westward toward Argos, and landed, and went up to
the town. And when he came, he found that Acrisius his grandfather
had fled. For Proetus his wicked brother had made war against
him afresh; and had come across the river from Tiryns, and conquered
Argos, and Acrisius had fled to Larissa, in the country of the wild
Pelasgi.
Then Perseus called the Argives together, and told them who he was,
and all the noble deeds which he had done. And all the nobles
and the yeomen made him king, for they saw that he had a royal heart;
and they fought with him against Argos, and took it, and killed Proetus,
and made the Cyclopes serve them, and build them walls round Argos,
like the walls which they had built at Tiryns; and there were great
rejoicings in the vale of Argos, because they had got a king from Father
Zeus.
But Perseus’ heart yearned after his grandfather, and he said,
‘Surely he is my flesh and blood, and he will love me now that
I am come home with honour: I will go and find him, and bring him home,
and we will reign together in peace.’
So Perseus sailed away with his Phoenicians, round Hydrea and Sunium,
past Marathon and the Attic shore, and through Euripus, and up the long
Euboean sea, till he came to the town of Larissa, where the wild Pelasgi
dwelt.
And when he came there, all the people were in the fields, and there
was feasting, and all kinds of games; for Teutamenes their king wished
to honour Acrisius, because he was the king of a mighty land.
So Perseus did not tell his name, but went up to the games unknown;
for he said, ‘If I carry away the prize in the games, my grandfather’s
heart will be softened toward me.’
So he threw off his helmet, and his cuirass, and all his clothes, and
stood among the youths of Larissa, while all wondered at him, and said,
‘Who is this young stranger, who stands like a wild bull in his
pride? Surely he is one of the heroes, the sons of the Immortals,
from Olympus.’
And when the games began, they wondered yet more; for Perseus was the
best man of all at running, and leaping, and wrestling and throwing
the javelin; and he won four crowns, and took them, and then he said
to himself, ‘There is a fifth crown yet to be won: I will win
that, and lay them all upon the knees of my grandfather.’
And as he spoke, he saw where Acrisius sat, by the side of Teutamenes
the king, with his white beard flowing down upon his knees, and his
royal staff in his hand; and Perseus wept when he looked at him, for
his heart yearned after his kin; and he said, ‘Surely he is a
kingly old man, yet he need not be ashamed of his grandson.’
Then he took the quoits, and hurled them, five fathoms beyond all the
rest; and the people shouted, ‘Further yet, brave stranger!
There has never been such a hurler in this land.’
Then Perseus put out all his strength, and hurled. But a gust
of wind came from the sea, and carried the quoit aside, and far beyond
all the rest; and it fell on the foot of Acrisius, and he swooned away
with the pain.
Perseus shrieked, and ran up to him; but when they lifted the old man
up he was dead, for his life was slow and feeble.
Then Perseus rent his clothes, and cast dust upon his head, and wept
a long while for his grandfather. At last he rose, and called
to all the people aloud, and said -
‘The Gods are true, and what they have ordained must be.
I am Perseus, the grandson of this dead man, the far-famed slayer of
the Gorgon.’
Then he told them how the prophecy had declared that he should kill
his grandfather, and all the story of his life.
So they made a great mourning for Acrisius, and burnt him on a right
rich pile; and Perseus went to the temple, and was purified from the
guilt of the death, because he had done it unknowingly.
Then he went home to Argos, and reigned there well with fair Andromeda;
and they had four sons and three daughters, and died in a good old age.
And when they died, the ancients say, Athené took them up into
the sky, with Cepheus and Cassiopoeia. And there on starlight
nights you may see them shining still; Cepheus with his kingly crown,
and Cassiopoeia in her ivory chair, plaiting her star-spangled tresses,
and Perseus with the Gorgon’s head, and fair Andromeda beside
him, spreading her long white arms across the heaven, as she stood when
chained to the stone for the monster.
All night long, they shine, for a beacon to wandering sailors; but all
day they feast with the Gods, on the still blue peaks of Olympus.
STORY II. - THE ARGONAUTS
PART I - HOW THE CENTAUR TRAINED THE HEROES ON PELION
I have told you of a hero who fought with wild beasts and with wild
men; but now I have a tale of heroes who sailed away into a distant
land, to win themselves renown for ever, in the adventure of the Golden
Fleece.
Whither they sailed, my children, I cannot clearly tell. It all
happened long ago; so long that it has all grown dim, like a dream which
you dreamt last year. And why they went I cannot tell: some say
that it was to win gold. It may be so; but the noblest deeds which
have been done on earth have not been done for gold. It was not
for the sake of gold that the Lord came down and died, and the Apostles
went out to preach the good news in all lands. The Spartans looked
for no reward in money when they fought and died at Thermopylae; and
Socrates the wise asked no pay from his countrymen, but lived poor and
barefoot all his days, only caring to make men good. And there
are heroes in our days also, who do noble deeds, but not for gold.
Our discoverers did not go to make themselves rich when they sailed
out one after another into the dreary frozen seas; nor did the ladies
who went out last year to drudge in the hospitals of the East, making
themselves poor, that they might be rich in noble works. And young
men, too, whom you know, children, and some of them of your own kin,
did they say to themselves, ‘How much money shall I earn?’
when they went out to the war, leaving wealth, and comfort, and a pleasant
home, and all that money can give, to face hunger and thirst, and wounds
and death, that they might fight for their country and their Queen?
No, children, there is a better thing on earth than wealth, a better
thing than life itself; and that is, to have done something before you
die, for which good men may honour you, and God your Father smile upon
your work.
Therefore we will believe - why should we not? - of these same Argonauts
of old, that they too were noble men, who planned and did a noble deed;
and that therefore their fame has lived, and been told in story and
in song, mixed up, no doubt, with dreams and fables, and yet true and
right at heart. So we will honour these old Argonauts, and listen
to their story as it stands; and we will try to be like them, each of
us in our place; for each of us has a Golden Fleece to seek, and a wild
sea to sail over ere we reach it, and dragons to fight ere it be ours.
And what was that first Golden Fleece? I do not know, nor care.
The old Hellens said that it hung in Colchis, which we call the Circassian
coast, nailed to a beech-tree in the war-God’s wood; and that
it was the fleece of the wondrous ram who bore Phrixus and Helle across
the Euxine sea. For Phrixus and Helle were the children of the
cloud-nymph, and of Athamas the Minuan king. And when a famine
came upon the land, their cruel step-mother Ino wished to kill them,
that her own children might reign, and said that they must be sacrificed
on an altar, to turn away the anger of the Gods. So the poor children
were brought to the altar, and the priest stood ready with his knife,
when out of the clouds came the Golden Ram, and took them on his back,
and vanished. Then madness came upon that foolish king, Athamas,
and ruin upon Ino and her children. For Athamas killed one of
them in his fury, and Ino fled from him with the other in her arms,
and leaped from a cliff into the sea, and was changed into a dolphin,
such as you have seen, which wanders over the waves for ever sighing,
with its little one clasped to its breast.
But the people drove out King Athamas, because he had killed his child;
and he roamed about in his misery, till he came to the Oracle in Delphi.
And the Oracle told him that he must wander for his sin, till the wild
beasts should feast him as their guest. So he went on in hunger
and sorrow for many a weary day, till he saw a pack of wolves.
The wolves were tearing a sheep; but when they saw Athamas they fled,
and left the sheep for him, and he ate of it; and then he knew that
the oracle was fulfilled at last. So he wandered no more; but
settled, and built a town, and became a king again.
But the ram carried the two children far away over land and sea, till
he came to the Thracian Chersonese, and there Helle fell into the sea.
So those narrow straits are called ‘Hellespont,’ after her;
and they bear that name until this day.
Then the ram flew on with Phrixus to the north-east across the sea which
we call the Black Sea now; but the Hellens call it Euxine. And
at last, they say, he stopped at Colchis, on the steep Circassian coast;
and there Phrixus married Chalciope, the daughter of Aietes the king;
and offered the ram in sacrifice; and Aietes nailed the ram’s
fleece to a beech, in the grove of Ares the war-God.
And after awhile Phrixus died, and was buried, but his spirit had no
rest; for he was buried far from his native land, and the pleasant hills
of Hellas. So he came in dreams to the heroes of the Minuai, and
called sadly by their beds, ‘Come and set my spirit free, that
I may go home to my fathers and to my kinsfolk, and the pleasant Minuan
land.’
And they asked, ‘How shall we set your spirit free?’
‘You must sail over the sea to Colchis, and bring home the golden
fleece; and then my spirit will come back with it, and I shall sleep
with my fathers and have rest.’
He came thus, and called to them often; but when they woke they looked
at each other, and said, ‘Who dare sail to Colchis, or bring home
the golden fleece?’ And in all the country none was brave
enough to try it; for the man and the time were not come.
Phrixus had a cousin called Æson, who was king in Iolcos by the
sea. There he ruled over the rich Minuan heroes, as Athamas his
uncle ruled in Boeotia; and, like Athamas, he was an unhappy man.
For he had a step-brother named Pelias, of whom some said that he was
a nymph’s son, and there were dark and sad tales about his birth.
When he was a babe he was cast out on the mountains, and a wild mare
came by and kicked him. But a shepherd passing found the baby,
with its face all blackened by the blow; and took him home, and called
him Pelias, because his face was bruised and black. And he grew
up fierce and lawless, and did many a fearful deed; and at last he drove
out Æson his step-brother, and then his own brother Neleus, and
took the kingdom to himself, and ruled over the rich Minuan heroes,
in Iolcos by the sea.
And Æson, when he was driven out, went sadly away out of the town,
leading his little son by the hand; and he said to himself, ‘I
must hide the child in the mountains; or Pelias will surely kill him,
because he is the heir.’
So he went up from the sea across the valley, through the vineyards
and the olive groves, and across the torrent of Anauros, toward Pelion
the ancient mountain, whose brows are white with snow.
He went up and up into the mountain, over marsh, and crag, and down,
till the boy was tired and footsore, and Æson had to bear him
in his arms, till he came to the mouth of a lonely cave, at the foot
of a mighty cliff.
Above the cliff the snow-wreaths hung, dripping and cracking in the
sun; but at its foot around the cave’s mouth grew all fair flowers
and herbs, as if in a garden, ranged in order, each sort by itself.
There they grew gaily in the sunshine, and the spray of the torrent
from above; while from the cave came the sound of music, and a man’s
voice singing to the harp.
Then Æson put down the lad, and whispered -
‘Fear not, but go in, and whomsoever you shall find, lay your
hands upon his knees, and say, “In the name of Zeus, the father
of Gods and men, I am your guest from this day forth.”’
Then the lad went in without trembling, for he too was a hero’s
son; but when he was within, he stopped in wonder to listen to that
magic song.
And there he saw the singer lying upon bear-skins and fragrant boughs:
Cheiron, the ancient centaur, the wisest of all things beneath the sky.
Down to the waist he was a man, but below he was a noble horse; his
white hair rolled down over his broad shoulders, and his white beard
over his broad brown chest; and his eyes were wise and mild, and his
forehead like a mountain-wall.
And in his hands he held a harp of gold, and struck it with a golden
key; and as he struck, he sang till his eyes glittered, and filled all
the cave with light.
And he sang of the birth of Time, and of the heavens and the dancing
stars; and of the ocean, and the ether, and the fire, and the shaping
of the wondrous earth. And he sang of the treasures of the hills,
and the hidden jewels of the mine, and the veins of fire and metal,
and the virtues of all healing herbs, and of the speech of birds, and
of prophecy, and of hidden things to come.
Then he sang of health, and strength, and manhood, and a valiant heart;
and of music, and hunting, and wrestling, and all the games which heroes
love: and of travel, and wars, and sieges, and a noble death in fight;
and then he sang of peace and plenty, and of equal justice in the land;
and as he sang the boy listened wide-eyed, and forgot his errand in
the song.
And at the last old Cheiron was silent, and called the lad with a soft
voice.
And the lad ran trembling to him, and would have laid his hands upon
his knees; but Cheiron smiled, and said, ‘Call hither your father
Æson, for I know you, and all that has befallen, and saw you both
afar in the valley, even before you left the town.’
Then Æson came in sadly, and Cheiron asked him, ‘Why camest
you not yourself to me, Æson the Æolid?’
And Æson said -
‘I thought, Cheiron will pity the lad if he sees him come alone;
and I wished to try whether he was fearless, and dare venture like a
hero’s son. But now I entreat you by Father Zeus, let the
boy be your guest till better times, and train him among the sons of
the heroes, that he may avenge his father’s house.’
Then Cheiron smiled, and drew the lad to him, and laid his hand upon
his golden locks, and said, ‘Are you afraid of my horse’s
hoofs, fair boy, or will you be my pupil from this day?’
‘I would gladly have horse’s hoofs like you, if I could
sing such songs as yours.’
And Cheiron laughed, and said, ‘Sit here by me till sundown, when
your playfellows will come home, and you shall learn like them to be
a king, worthy to rule over gallant men.’
Then he turned to Æson, and said, ‘Go back in peace, and
bend before the storm like a prudent man. This boy shall not cross
the Anauros again, till he has become a glory to you and to the house
of Æolus.’
And Æson wept over his son and went away; but the boy did not
weep, so full was his fancy of that strange cave, and the centaur, and
his song, and the playfellows whom he was to see.
Then Cheiron put the lyre into his hands, and taught him how to play
it, till the sun sank low behind the cliff, and a shout was heard outside.
And then in came the sons of the heroes, Æneas, and Heracles,
and Peleus, and many another mighty name.
And great Cheiron leapt up joyfully, and his hoofs made the cave resound,
as they shouted, ‘Come out, Father Cheiron; come out and see our
game.’ And one cried, ‘I have killed two deer;’
and another, ‘I took a wild cat among the crags;’ and Heracles
dragged a wild goat after him by its horns, for he was as huge as a
mountain crag; and Coeneus carried a bear-cub under each arm, and laughed
when they scratched and bit, for neither tooth nor steel could wound
him.
And Cheiron praised them all, each according to his deserts.
Only one walked apart and silent, Asclepius, the too-wise child, with
his bosom full of herbs and flowers, and round his wrist a spotted snake;
he came with downcast eyes to Cheiron, and whispered how he had watched
the snake cast its old skin, and grow young again before his eyes, and
how he had gone down into a village in the vale, and cured a dying man
with a herb which he had seen a sick goat eat.
And Cheiron smiled, and said, ‘To each Athené and Apollo
give some gift, and each is worthy in his place; but to this child they
have given an honour beyond all honours, to cure while others kill.’
Then the lads brought in wood, and split it, and lighted a blazing fire;
and others skinned the deer and quartered them, and set them to roast
before the fire; and while the venison was cooking they bathed in the
snow-torrent, and washed away the dust and sweat.
And then all ate till they could eat no more (for they had tasted nothing
since the dawn), and drank of the clear spring water, for wine is not
fit for growing lads. And when the remnants were put away, they
all lay down upon the skins and leaves about the fire, and each took
the lyre in turn, and sang and played with all his heart.
And after a while they all went out to a plot of grass at the cave’s
mouth, and there they boxed, and ran, and wrestled, and laughed till
the stones fell from the cliffs.
Then Cheiron took his lyre, and all the lads joined hands; and as be
played, they danced to his measure, in and out, and round and round.
There they danced hand in hand, till the night fell over land and sea,
while the black glen shone with their broad white limbs and the gleam
of their golden hair.
And the lad danced with them, delighted, and then slept a wholesome
sleep, upon fragrant leaves of bay, and myrtle, and marjoram, and flowers
of thyme; and rose at the dawn, and bathed in the torrent, and became
a schoolfellow to the heroes’ sons, and forgot Iolcos, and his
father, and all his former life. But he grew strong, and brave
and cunning, upon the pleasant downs of Pelion, in the keen hungry mountain
air. And he learnt to wrestle, and to box, and to hunt, and to
play upon the harp; and next he learnt to ride, for old Cheiron used
to mount him on his back; and he learnt the virtues of all herbs and
how to cure all wounds; and Cheiron called him Jason the healer, and
that is his name until this day.
PART II - HOW JASON LOST HIS SANDAL IN ANAUROS
And ten years came and went, and Jason was grown to be a mighty man.
Some of his fellows were gone, and some were growing up by his side.
Asclepius was gone into Peloponnese to work his wondrous cures on men;
and some say he used to raise the dead to life. And Heracles was
gone to Thebes to fulfil those famous labours which have become a proverb
among men. And Peleus had married a sea-nymph, and his wedding
is famous to this day. And Æneas was gone home to Troy,
and many a noble tale you will read of him, and of all the other gallant
heroes, the scholars of Cheiron the just. And it happened on a
day that Jason stood on the mountain, and looked north and south and
east and west; and Cheiron stood by him and watched him, for he knew
that the time was come.
And Jason looked and saw the plains of Thessaly, where the Lapithai
breed their horses; and the lake of Boibé, and the stream which
runs northward to Peneus and Tempe; and he looked north, and saw the
mountain wall which guards the Magnesian shore; Olympus, the seat of
the Immortals, and Ossa, and Pelion, where he stood. Then he looked
east and saw the bright blue sea, which stretched away for ever toward
the dawn. Then he looked south, and saw a pleasant land, with
white-walled towns and farms, nestling along the shore of a land-locked
bay, while the smoke rose blue among the trees; and he knew it for the
bay of Pagasai, and the rich lowlands of Haemonia, and Iolcos by the
sea.
Then he sighed, and asked, ‘Is it true what the heroes tell me
- that I am heir of that fair land?’
‘And what good would it be to you, Jason, if you were heir of
that fair land?’
‘I would take it and keep it.’
‘A strong man has taken it and kept it long. Are you stronger
than Pelias the terrible?’
‘I can try my strength with his,’ said Jason; but Cheiron
sighed, and said -
‘You have many a danger to go through before you rule in Iolcos
by the sea: many a danger and many a woe; and strange troubles in strange
lands, such as man never saw before.’
‘The happier I,’ said Jason, ‘to see what man never
saw before.’
And Cheiron sighed again, and said, ‘The eaglet must leave the
nest when it is fledged. Will you go to Iolcos by the sea?
Then promise me two things before you go.’
Jason promised, and Cheiron answered, ‘Speak harshly to no soul
whom you may meet, and stand by the word which you shall speak.’
Jason wondered why Cheiron asked this of him; but he knew that the Centaur
was a prophet, and saw things long before they came. So he promised,
and leapt down the mountain, to take his fortune like a man.
He went down through the arbutus thickets, and across the downs of thyme,
till he came to the vineyard walls, and the pomegranates and the olives
in the glen; and among the olives roared Anauros, all foaming with a
summer flood.
And on the bank of Anauros sat a woman, all wrinkled, gray, and old;
her head shook palsied on her breast, and her hands shook palsied on
her knees; and when she saw Jason, she spoke whining, ‘Who will
carry me across the flood?’
Jason was bold and hasty, and was just going to leap into the flood:
and yet he thought twice before he leapt, so loud roared the torrent
down, all brown from the mountain rains, and silver-veined with melting
snow; while underneath he could hear the boulders rumbling like the
tramp of horsemen or the roll of wheels, as they ground along the narrow
channel, and shook the rocks on which he stood.
But the old woman whined all the more, ‘I am weak and old, fair
youth. For Hera’s sake, carry me over the torrent.’
And Jason was going to answer her scornfully, when Cheiron’s words
came to his mind.
So he said, ‘For Hera’s sake, the Queen of the Immortals
on Olympus, I will carry you over the torrent, unless we both are drowned
midway.’
Then the old dame leapt upon his back, as nimbly as a goat; and Jason
staggered in, wondering; and the first step was up to his knees.
The first step was up to his knees, and the second step was up to his
waist; and the stones rolled about his feet, and his feet slipped about
the stones; so he went on staggering, and panting, while the old woman
cried from off his back -
‘Fool, you have wet my mantle! Do you make game of poor
old souls like me?’
Jason had half a mind to drop her, and let her get through the torrent
by herself; but Cheiron’s words were in his mind, and he said
only, ‘Patience, mother; the best horse may stumble some day.’
At last he staggered to the shore, and set her down upon the bank; and
a strong man he needed to have been, or that wild water he never would
have crossed.
He lay panting awhile upon the bank, and then leapt up to go upon his
journey; but he cast one look at the old woman, for he thought, ‘She
should thank me once at least.’
And as he looked, she grew fairer than all women, and taller than all
men on earth; and her garments shone like the summer sea, and her jewels
like the stars of heaven; and over her forehead was a veil woven of
the golden clouds of sunset; and through the veil she looked down on
him, with great soft heifer’s eyes; with great eyes, mild and
awful, which filled all the glen with light.
And Jason fell upon his knees, and hid his face between his hands.
And she spoke, ‘I am the Queen of Olympus, Hera the wife of Zeus.
As thou hast done to me, so will I do to thee. Call on me in the
hour of need, and try if the Immortals can forget.’
And when Jason looked up, she rose from off the earth, like a pillar
of tall white cloud, and floated away across the mountain peaks, toward
Olympus the holy hill.
Then a great fear fell on Jason: but after a while he grew light of
heart; and he blessed old Cheiron, and said, ‘Surely the Centaur
is a prophet, and guessed what would come to pass, when he bade me speak
harshly to no soul whom I might meet.’
Then he went down toward Iolcos; and as he walked he found that he had
lost one of his sandals in the flood.
And as he went through the streets, the people came out to look at him,
so tall and fair was he; but some of the elders whispered together;
and at last one of them stopped Jason, and called to him, ‘Fair
lad, who are you, and whence come you; and what is your errand in the
town?’
‘My name, good father, is Jason, and I come from Pelion up above;
and my errand is to Pelias your king; tell me then where his palace
is.’
But the old man started, and grew pale, and said, ‘Do you not
know the oracle, my son, that you go so boldly through the town with
but one sandal on?’
‘I am a stranger here, and know of no oracle; but what of my one
sandal? I lost the other in Anauros, while I was struggling with
the flood.’
Then the old man looked back to his companions; and one sighed, and
another smiled; at last he said, ‘I will tell you, lest you rush
upon your ruin unawares. The oracle in Delphi has said that a
man wearing one sandal should take the kingdom from Pelias, and keep
it for himself. Therefore beware how you go up to his palace,
for he is the fiercest and most cunning of all kings.’
Then Jason laughed a great laugh, like a war-horse in his pride.
‘Good news, good father, both for you and me. For that very
end I came into the town.’
Then he strode on toward the palace of Pelias, while all the people
wondered at his bearing.
And he stood in the doorway and cried, ‘Come out, come out, Pelias
the valiant, and fight for your kingdom like a man.’
Pelias came out wondering, and ‘Who are you, bold youth?’
he cried.
‘I am Jason, the son of Æson, the heir of all this land.’
Then Pelias lifted up his hands and eyes, and wept, or seemed to weep;
and blessed the heavens which had brought his nephew to him, never to
leave him more. ‘For,’ said he, ‘I have but
three daughters, and no son to be my heir. You shall be my heir
then, and rule the kingdom after me, and marry whichsoever of my daughters
you shall choose; though a sad kingdom you will find it, and whosoever
rules it a miserable man. But come in, come in, and feast.’
So he drew Jason in, whether he would or not, and spoke to him so lovingly
and feasted him so well, that Jason’s anger passed; and after
supper his three cousins came into the hall, and Jason thought that
he should like well enough to have one of them for his wife.
But at last he said to Pelias, ‘Why do you look so sad, my uncle?
And what did you mean just now when you said that this was a doleful
kingdom, and its ruler a miserable man?’
Then Pelias sighed heavily again and again and again, like a man who
had to tell some dreadful story, and was afraid to begin; but at last
-
‘For seven long years and more have I never known a quiet night;
and no more will he who comes after me, till the golden fleece be brought
home.’
Then he told Jason the story of Phrixus, and of the golden fleece; and
told him, too, which was a lie, that Phrixus’ spirit tormented
him, calling to him day and night. And his daughters came, and
told the same tale (for their father had taught them their parts), and
wept, and said, ‘Oh who will bring home the golden fleece, that
our uncle’s spirit may rest; and that we may have rest also, whom
he never lets sleep in peace?’
Jason sat awhile, sad and silent; for he had often heard of that golden
fleece; but he looked on it as a thing hopeless and impossible for any
mortal man to win it.
But when Pelias saw him silent, he began to talk of other things, and
courted Jason more and more, speaking to him as if he was certain to
be his heir, and asking his advice about the kingdom; till Jason, who
was young and simple, could not help saying to himself, ‘Surely
he is not the dark man whom people call him. Yet why did he drive
my father out?’ And he asked Pelias boldly, ‘Men say
that you are terrible, and a man of blood; but I find you a kind and
hospitable man; and as you are to me, so will I be to you. Yet
why did you drive my father out?’
Pelias smiled, and sighed. ‘Men have slandered me in that,
as in all things. Your father was growing old and weary, and he
gave the kingdom up to me of his own will. You shall see him to-morrow,
and ask him; and he will tell you the same.’
Jason’s heart leapt in him when he heard that he was to see his
father; and he believed all that Pelias said, forgetting that his father
might not dare to tell the truth.
‘One thing more there is,’ said Pelias, ‘on which
I need your advice; for, though you are young, I see in you a wisdom
beyond your years. There is one neighbour of mine, whom I dread
more than all men on earth. I am stronger than he now, and can
command him; but I know that if he stay among us, he will work my ruin
in the end. Can you give me a plan, Jason, by which I can rid
myself of that man?’
After awhile Jason answered, half laughing, ‘Were I you, I would
send him to fetch that same golden fleece; for if he once set forth
after it you would never be troubled with him more.’
And at that a bitter smile came across Pelias’ lips, and a flash
of wicked joy into his eyes; and Jason saw it, and started; and over
his mind came the warning of the old man, and his own one sandal, and
the oracle, and he saw that he was taken in a trap.
But Pelias only answered gently, ‘My son, he shall be sent forthwith.’
‘You mean me?’ cried Jason, starting up, ‘because
I came here with one sandal?’ And he lifted his fist angrily,
while Pelias stood up to him like a wolf at bay; and whether of the
two was the stronger and the fiercer it would be hard to tell.
But after a moment Pelias spoke gently, ‘Why then so rash, my
son? You, and not I, have said what is said; why blame me for
what I have not done? Had you bid me love the man of whom I spoke,
and make him my son-in-law and heir, I would have obeyed you; and what
if I obey you now, and send the man to win himself immortal fame?
I have not harmed you, or him. One thing at least I know, that
he will go, and that gladly; for he has a hero’s heart within
him, loving glory, and scorning to break the word which he has given.’
Jason saw that he was entrapped; but his second promise to Cheiron came
into his mind, and he thought, ‘What if the Centaur were a prophet
in that also, and meant that I should win the fleece!’ Then
he cried aloud -
‘You have well spoken, cunning uncle of mine! I love glory,
and I dare keep to my word. I will go and fetch this golden fleece.
Promise me but this in return, and keep your word as I keep mine.
Treat my father lovingly while I am gone, for the sake of the all-seeing
Zeus; and give me up the kingdom for my own on the day that I bring
back the golden fleece.’
Then Pelias looked at him and almost loved him, in the midst of all
his hate; and said, ‘I promise, and I will perform. It will
be no shame to give up my kingdom to the man who wins that fleece.’
Then they swore a great oath between them; and afterwards both went
in, and lay down to sleep.
But Jason could not sleep for thinking of his mighty oath, and how he
was to fulfil it, all alone, and without wealth or friends. So
he tossed a long time upon his bed, and thought of this plan and of
that; and sometimes Phrixus seemed to call him, in a thin voice, faint
and low, as if it came from far across the sea, ‘Let me come home
to my fathers and have rest.’ And sometimes he seemed to
see the eyes of Hera, and to hear her words again - ‘Call on me
in the hour of need, and see if the Immortals can forget.’
And on the morrow he went to Pelias, and said, ‘Give me a victim,
that I may sacrifice to Hera.’ So he went up, and offered
his sacrifice; and as he stood by the altar Hera sent a thought into
his mind; and he went back to Pelias, and said -
‘If you are indeed in earnest, give me two heralds, that they
may go round to all the princes of the Minuai, who were pupils of the
Centaur with me, that we may fit out a ship together, and take what
shall befall.’
At that Pelias praised his wisdom, and hastened to send the heralds
out; for he said in his heart, ‘Let all the princes go with him,
and, like him, never return; for so I shall be lord of all the Minuai,
and the greatest king in Hellas.’
PART III - HOW THEY BUILT THE SHIP ‘ARGO’ IN IOLCOS
So the heralds went out, and cried to all the heroes of the Minuai,
‘Who dare come to the adventure of the golden fleece?’
And Hera stirred the hearts of all the princes, and they came from all
their valleys to the yellow sands of Pagasai. And first came Heracles
the mighty, with his lion’s skin and club, and behind him Hylas
his young squire, who bore his arrows and his bow; and Tiphys, the skilful
steersman; and Butes, the fairest of all men; and Castor and Polydeuces
the twins, the sons of the magic swan; and Caeneus, the strongest of
mortals, whom the Centaurs tried in vain to kill, and overwhelmed him
with trunks of pine-trees, but even so he would not die; and thither
came Zetes and Calais, the winged sons of the north wind; and Peleus,
the father of Achilles, whose bride was silver-footed Thetis, the goddess
of the sea. And thither came Telamon and Oileus, the fathers of
the two Aiantes, who fought upon the plains of Troy; and Mopsus, the
wise soothsayer, who knew the speech of birds; and Idmon, to whom Phoebus
gave a tongue to prophesy of things to come; and Ancaios, who could
read the stars, and knew all the circles of the heavens; and Argus,
the famed shipbuilder, and many a hero more, in helmets of brass and
gold with tall dyed horse-hair crests, and embroidered shirts of linen
beneath their coats of mail, and greaves of polished tin to guard their
knees in fight; with each man his shield upon his shoulder, of many
a fold of tough bull’s hide, and his sword of tempered bronze
in his silver-studded belt; and in his right hand a pair of lances,
of the heavy white ash-staves.
So they came down to Iolcos, and all the city came out to meet them,
and were never tired with looking at their height, and their beauty,
and their gallant bearing and the glitter of their inlaid arms.
And some said, ‘Never was such a gathering of the heroes since
the Hellens conquered the land.’ But the women sighed over
them, and whispered, ‘Alas! they are all going to their death!’
Then they felled the pines on Pelion, and shaped them with the axe,
and Argus taught them to build a galley, the first long ship which ever
sailed the seas. They pierced her for fifty oars - an oar for
each hero of the crew - and pitched her with coal-black pitch, and painted
her bows with vermilion; and they named her Argo after Argus,
and worked at her all day long. And at night Pelias feasted them
like a king, and they slept in his palace-porch.
But Jason went away to the northward, and into the land of Thrace, till
he found Orpheus, the prince of minstrels, where he dwelt in his cave
under Rhodope, among the savage Cicon tribes. And he asked him,
‘Will you leave your mountains, Orpheus, my fellow-scholar in
old times, and cross Strymon once more with me, to sail with the heroes
of the Minuai, and bring home the golden fleece, and charm for us all
men and all monsters with your magic harp and song?’
Then Orpheus sighed, ‘Have I not had enough of toil and of weary
wandering, far and wide since I lived in Cheiron’s cave, above
Iolcos by the sea? In vain is the skill and the voice which my
goddess mother gave me; in vain have I sung and laboured; in vain I
went down to the dead, and charmed all the kings of Hades, to win back
Eurydice my bride. For I won her, my beloved, and lost her again
the same day, and wandered away in my madness, even to Egypt and the
Libyan sands, and the isles of all the seas, driven on by the terrible
gadfly, while I charmed in vain the hearts of men, and the savage forest
beasts, and the trees, and the lifeless stones, with my magic harp and
song, giving rest, but finding none. But at last Calliope my mother
delivered me, and brought me home in peace; and I dwell here in the
cave alone, among the savage Cicon tribes, softening their wild hearts
with music and the gentle laws of Zeus. And now I must go out
again, to the ends of all the earth, far away into the misty darkness,
to the last wave of the Eastern Sea. But what is doomed must be,
and a friend’s demand obeyed; for prayers are the daughters of
Zeus, and who honours them honours him.’
Then Orpheus rose up sighing, and took his harp, and went over Strymon.
And he led Jason to the south-west, up the banks of Haliacmon and over
the spurs of Pindus, to Dodona the town of Zeus, where it stood by the
side of the sacred lake, and the fountain which breathed out fire, in
the darkness of the ancient oakwood, beneath the mountain of the hundred
springs. And he led him to the holy oak, where the black dove
settled in old times, and was changed into the priestess of Zeus, and
gave oracles to all nations round. And he bade him cut down a
bough, and sacrifice to Hera and to Zeus; and they took the bough and
came to Iolcos, and nailed it to the beak-head of the ship.
And at last the ship was finished, and they tried to launch her down
the beach; but she was too heavy for them to move her, and her keel
sank deep into the sand. Then all the heroes looked at each other
blushing; but Jason spoke, and said, ‘Let us ask the magic bough;
perhaps it can help us in our need.’
Then a voice came from the bough, and Jason heard the words it said,
and bade Orpheus play upon the harp, while the heroes waited round,
holding the pine-trunk rollers, to help her toward the sea.
Then Orpheus took his harp, and began his magic song - ‘How sweet
it is to ride upon the surges, and to leap from wave to wave, while
the wind sings cheerful in the cordage, and the oars flash fast among
the foam! How sweet it is to roam across the ocean, and see new
towns and wondrous lands, and to come home laden with treasure, and
to win undying fame!’
And the good ship Argo heard him, and longed to be away and out
at sea; till she stirred in every timber, and heaved from stem to stern,
and leapt up from the sand upon the rollers, and plunged onward like
a gallant horse; and the heroes fed her path with pine-trunks, till
she rushed into the whispering sea.
Then they stored her well with food and water, and pulled the ladder
up on board, and settled themselves each man to his oar, and kept time
to Orpheus’ harp; and away across the bay they rowed southward,
while the people lined the cliffs; and the women wept, while the men
shouted, at the starting of that gallant crew.
PART IV - HOW THE ARGONAUTS SAILED TO COLCHIS
And what happened next, my children, whether it be true or not, stands
written in ancient songs, which you shall read for yourselves some day.
And grand old songs they are, written in grand old rolling verse; and
they call them the Songs of Orpheus, or the Orphics, to this day.
And they tell how the heroes came to Aphetai, across the bay, and waited
for the south-west wind, and chose themselves a captain from their crew:
and how all called for Heracles, because he was the strongest and most
huge; but Heracles refused, and called for Jason, because he was the
wisest of them all. So Jason was chosen captain; and Orpheus heaped
a pile of wood, and slew a bull, and offered it to Hera, and called
all the heroes to stand round, each man’s head crowned with olive,
and to strike their swords into the bull. Then he filled a golden
goblet with the bull’s blood, and with wheaten flour, and honey,
and wine, and the bitter salt-sea water, and bade the heroes taste.
So each tasted the goblet, and passed it round, and vowed an awful vow:
and they vowed before the sun, and the night, and the blue-haired sea
who shakes the land, to stand by Jason faithfully in the adventure of
the golden fleece; and whosoever shrank back, or disobeyed, or turned
traitor to his vow, then justice should minister against him, and the
Erinnues who track guilty men.
Then Jason lighted the pile, and burnt the carcase of the bull; and
they went to their ship and sailed eastward, like men who have a work
to do; and the place from which they went was called Aphetai, the sailing-place,
from that day forth. Three thousand years and more they sailed
away, into the unknown Eastern seas; and great nations have come and
gone since then, and many a storm has swept the earth; and many a mighty
armament, to which Argo would be but one small boat; English
and French, Turkish and Russian, have sailed those waters since; yet
the fame of that small Argo lives for ever, and her name is become
a proverb among men.
So they sailed past the Isle of Sciathos, with the Cape of Sepius on
their left, and turned to the northward toward Pelion, up the long Magnesian
shore. On their right hand was the open sea, and on their left
old Pelion rose, while the clouds crawled round his dark pine-forests,
and his caps of summer snow. And their hearts yearned for the
dear old mountain, as they thought of pleasant days gone by, and of
the sports of their boyhood, and their hunting, and their schooling
in the cave beneath the cliff. And at last Peleus spoke, ‘Let
us land here, friends, and climb the dear old hill once more.
We are going on a fearful journey; who knows if we shall see Pelion
again? Let us go up to Cheiron our master, and ask his blessing
ere we start. And I have a boy, too, with him, whom he trains
as he trained me once - the son whom Thetis brought me, the silver-footed
lady of the sea, whom I caught in the cave, and tamed her, though she
changed her shape seven times. For she changed, as I held her,
into water, and to vapour, and to burning flame, and to a rock, and
to a black-maned lion, and to a tall and stately tree. But I held
her and held her ever, till she took her own shape again, and led her
to my father’s house, and won her for my bride. And all
the rulers of Olympus came to our wedding, and the heavens and the earth
rejoiced together, when an Immortal wedded mortal man. And now
let me see my son; for it is not often I shall see him upon earth: famous
he will be, but short-lived, and die in the flower of youth.’
So Tiphys the helmsman steered them to the shore under the crags of
Pelion; and they went up through the dark pine-forests towards the Centaur’s
cave.
And they came into the misty hall, beneath the snow-crowned crag; and
saw the great Centaur lying, with his huge limbs spread upon the rock;
and beside him stood Achilles, the child whom no steel could wound,
and played upon his harp right sweetly, while Cheiron watched and smiled.
Then Cheiron leapt up and welcomed them, and kissed them every one,
and set a feast before them of swine’s flesh, and venison, and
good wine; and young Achilles served them, and carried the golden goblet
round. And after supper all the heroes clapped their hands, and
called on Orpheus to sing; but he refused, and said, ‘How can
I, who am the younger, sing before our ancient host?’ So
they called on Cheiron to sing, and Achilles brought him his harp; and
he began a wondrous song; a famous story of old time, of the fight between
the Centaurs and the Lapithai, which you may still see carved in stone.
{1} He sang how
his brothers came to ruin by their folly, when they were mad with wine;
and how they and the heroes fought, with fists, and teeth, and the goblets
from which they drank; and how they tore up the pine-trees in their
fury, and hurled great crags of stone, while the mountains thundered
with the battle, and the land was wasted far and wide; till the Lapithai
drove them from their home in the rich Thessalian plains to the lonely
glens of Pindus, leaving Cheiron all alone. And the heroes praised
his song right heartily; for some of them had helped in that great fight.
Then Orpheus took the lyre, and sang of Chaos, and the making of the
wondrous World, and how all things sprang from Love, who could not live
alone in the Abyss. And as he sang, his voice rose from the cave,
above the crags, and through the tree-tops, and the glens of oak and
pine. And the trees bowed their heads when they heard it, and
the gray rocks cracked and rang, and the forest beasts crept near to
listen, and the birds forsook their nests and hovered round. And
old Cheiron claps his hands together, and beat his hoofs upon the ground,
for wonder at that magic song.
Then Peleus kissed his boy, and wept over him, and they went down to
the ship; and Cheiron came down with them, weeping, and kissed them
one by one, and blest them, and promised to them great renown.
And the heroes wept when they left him, till their great hearts could
weep no more; for he was kind and just and pious, and wiser than all
beasts and men. Then he went up to a cliff, and prayed for them,
that they might come home safe and well; while the heroes rowed away,
and watched him standing on his cliff above the sea, with his great
hands raised toward heaven, and his white locks waving in the wind;
and they strained their eyes to watch him to the last, for they felt
that they should look on him no more.
So they rowed on over the long swell of the sea, past Olympus, the seat
of the Immortals, and past the wooded bays of Athos, and Samothrace
the sacred isle; and they came past Lemnos to the Hellespont, and through
the narrow strait of Abydos, and so on into the Propontis, which we
call Marmora now. And there they met with Cyzicus, ruling in Asia
over the Dolions, who, the songs say, was the son of Æneas, of
whom you will hear many a tale some day. For Homer tells us how
he fought at Troy, and Virgil how he sailed away and founded Rome; and
men believed until late years that from him sprang our old British kings.
Now Cyzicus, the songs say, welcomed the heroes, for his father had
been one of Cheiron’s scholars; so he welcomed them, and feasted
them, and stored their ship with corn and wine, and cloaks and rugs,
the songs say, and shirts, of which no doubt they stood in need.
But at night, while they lay sleeping, came down on them terrible men,
who lived with the bears in the mountains, like Titans or giants in
shape; for each of them had six arms, and they fought with young firs
and pines. But Heracles killed them all before morn with his deadly
poisoned arrows; but among them, in the darkness, he slew Cyzicus the
kindly prince.
Then they got to their ship and to their oars, and Tiphys bade them
cast off the hawsers and go to sea. But as he spoke a whirlwind
came, and spun the Argo round, and twisted the hawsers together,
so that no man could loose them. Then Tiphys dropped the rudder
from his hand, and cried, ‘This comes from the Gods above.’
But Jason went forward, and asked counsel of the magic bough.
Then the magic bough spoke, and answered, ‘This is because you
have slain Cyzicus your friend. You must appease his soul, or
you will never leave this shore.’
Jason went back sadly, and told the heroes what he had heard.
And they leapt on shore, and searched till dawn; and at dawn they found
the body, all rolled in dust and blood, among the corpses of those monstrous
beasts. And they wept over their kind host, and laid him on a
fair bed, and heaped a huge mound over him, and offered black sheep
at his tomb, and Orpheus sang a magic song to him, that his spirit might
have rest. And then they held games at the tomb, after the custom
of those times, and Jason gave prizes to each winner. To Ancaeus
he gave a golden cup, for he wrestled best of all; and to Heracles a
silver one, for he was the strongest of all; and to Castor, who rode
best, a golden crest; and Polydeuces the boxer had a rich carpet, and
to Orpheus for his song a sandal with golden wings. But Jason
himself was the best of all the archers, and the Minuai crowned him
with an olive crown; and so, the songs say, the soul of good Cyzicus
was appeased and the heroes went on their way in peace.
But when Cyzicus’ wife heard that he was dead she died likewise
of grief; and her tears became a fountain of clear water, which flows
the whole year round.
Then they rowed away, the songs say, along the Mysian shore, and past
the mouth of Rhindacus, till they found a pleasant bay, sheltered by
the long ridges of Arganthus, and by high walls of basalt rock.
And there they ran the ship ashore upon the yellow sand, and furled
the sail, and took the mast down, and lashed it in its crutch.
And next they let down the ladder, and went ashore to sport and rest.
And there Heracles went away into the woods, bow in hand, to hunt wild
deer; and Hylas the fair boy slipt away after him, and followed him
by stealth, until he lost himself among the glens, and sat down weary
to rest himself by the side of a lake; and there the water nymphs came
up to look at him, and loved him, and carried him down under the lake
to be their playfellow, for ever happy and young. And Heracles
sought for him in vain, shouting his name till all the mountains rang;
but Hylas never heard him, far down under the sparkling lake.
So while Heracles wandered searching for him, a fair breeze sprang up,
and Heracles was nowhere to be found; and the Argo sailed away,
and Heracles was left behind, and never saw the noble Phasian stream.
Then the Minuai came to a doleful land, where Amycus the giant ruled,
and cared nothing for the laws of Zeus, but challenged all strangers
to box with him, and those whom he conquered he slew. But Polydeuces
the boxer struck him a harder blow than he ever felt before, and slew
him; and the Minuai went on up the Bosphorus, till they came to the
city of Phineus, the fierce Bithynian king; for Zetes and Calais bade
Jason land there, because they had a work to do.
And they went up from the shore toward the city, through forests white
with snow; and Phineus came out to meet them with a lean and woful face,
and said, ‘Welcome, gallant heroes, to the land of bitter blasts,
the land of cold and misery; yet I will feast you as best I can.’
And he led them in, and set meat before them; but before they could
put their hands to their mouths, down came two fearful monsters, the
like of whom man never saw; for they had the faces and the hair of fair
maidens, but the wings and claws of hawks; and they snatched the meat
from off the table, and flew shrieking out above the roofs.
Then Phineus beat his breast and cried, ‘These are the Harpies,
whose names are the Whirlwind and the Swift, the daughters of Wonder
and of the Amber-nymph, and they rob us night and day. They carried
off the daughters of Pandareus, whom all the Gods had blest; for Aphrodite
fed them on Olympus with honey and milk and wine; and Hera gave them
beauty and wisdom, and Athené skill in all the arts; but when
they came to their wedding, the Harpies snatched them both away, and
gave them to be slaves to the Erinnues, and live in horror all their
days. And now they haunt me, and my people, and the Bosphorus,
with fearful storms; and sweep away our food from off our tables, so
that we starve in spite of all our wealth.’
Then up rose Zetes and Calais, the winged sons of the North-wind, and
said, ‘Do you not know us, Phineus, and these wings which grow
upon our backs?’ And Phineus hid his face in terror; but
he answered not a word.
‘Because you have been a traitor, Phineus, the Harpies haunt you
night and day. Where is Cleopatra our sister, your wife, whom
you keep in prison? and where are her two children, whom you blinded
in your rage, at the bidding of an evil woman, and cast them out upon
the rocks? Swear to us that you will right our sister, and cast
out that wicked woman; and then we will free you from your plague, and
drive the whirlwind maidens to the south; but if not, we will put out
your eyes, as you put out the eyes of your own sons.’
Then Phineus swore an oath to them, and drove out the wicked woman;
and Jason took those two poor children, and cured their eyes with magic
herbs.
But Zetes and Calais rose up sadly and said, ‘Farewell now, heroes
all; farewell, our dear companions, with whom we played on Pelion in
old times; for a fate is laid upon us, and our day is come at last,
in which we must hunt the whirlwinds over land and sea for ever; and
if we catch them they die, and if not, we die ourselves.’
At that all the heroes wept; but the two young men sprang up, and aloft
into the air after the Harpies, and the battle of the winds began.
The heroes trembled in silence as they heard the shrieking of the blasts;
while the palace rocked and all the city, and great stones were torn
from the crags, and the forest pines were hurled earthward, north and
south and east and west, and the Bosphorus boiled white with foam, and
the clouds were dashed against the cliffs.
But at last the battle ended, and the Harpies fled screaming toward
the south, and the sons of the North-wind rushed after them, and brought
clear sunshine where they passed. For many a league they followed
them, over all the isles of the Cyclades, and away to the south-west
across Hellas, till they came to the Ionian Sea, and there they fell
upon the Echinades, at the mouth of the Achelous; and those isles were
called the Whirlwind Isles for many a hundred years. But what
became of Zetes and Calais I know not, for the heroes never saw them
again: and some say that Heracles met them, and quarrelled with them,
and slew them with his arrows; and some say that they fell down from
weariness and the heat of the summer sun, and that the Sun-god buried
them among the Cyclades, in the pleasant Isle of Tenos; and for many
hundred years their grave was shown there, and over it a pillar, which
turned to every wind. But those dark storms and whirlwinds haunt
the Bosphorus until this day.
But the Argonauts went eastward, and out into the open sea, which we
now call the Black Sea, but it was called the Euxine then. No
Hellen had ever crossed it, and all feared that dreadful sea, and its
rocks, and shoals, and fogs, and bitter freezing storms; and they told
strange stories of it, some false and some half-true, how it stretched
northward to the ends of the earth, and the sluggish Putrid Sea, and
the everlasting night, and the regions of the dead. So the heroes
trembled, for all their courage, as they came into that wild Black Sea,
and saw it stretching out before them, without a shore, as far as eye
could see.
And first Orpheus spoke, and warned them, ‘We shall come now to
the wandering blue rocks; my mother warned me of them, Calliope, the
immortal muse.’
And soon they saw the blue rocks shining like spires and castles of
gray glass, while an ice-cold wind blew from them and chilled all the
heroes’ hearts. And as they neared they could see them heaving,
as they rolled upon the long sea-waves, crashing and grinding together,
till the roar went up to heaven. The sea sprang up in spouts between
them, and swept round them in white sheets of foam; but their heads
swung nodding high in air, while the wind whistled shrill among the
crags.
The heroes’ hearts sank within them, and they lay upon their oars
in fear; but Orpheus called to Tiphys the helmsman, ‘Between them
we must pass; so look ahead for an opening, and be brave, for Hera is
with us.’ But Tiphys the cunning helmsman stood silent,
clenching his teeth, till he saw a heron come flying mast-high toward
the rocks, and hover awhile before them, as if looking for a passage
through. Then he cried, ‘Hera has sent us a pilot; let us
follow the cunning bird.’
Then the heron flapped to and fro a moment, till he saw a hidden gap,
and into it he rushed like an arrow, while the heroes watched what would
befall.
And the blue rocks clashed together as the bird fled swiftly through;
but they struck but a feather from his tail, and then rebounded apart
at the shock.
Then Tiphys cheered the heroes, and they shouted; and the oars bent
like withes beneath their strokes as they rushed between those toppling
ice-crags and the cold blue lips of death. And ere the rocks could
meet again they had passed them, and were safe out in the open sea.
And after that they sailed on wearily along the Asian coast, by the
Black Cape and Thyneis, where the hot stream of Thymbris falls into
the sea, and Sangarius, whose waters float on the Euxine, till they
came to Wolf the river, and to Wolf the kindly king. And there
died two brave heroes, Idmon and Tiphys the wise helmsman: one died
of an evil sickness, and one a wild boar slew. So the heroes heaped
a mound above them, and set upon it an oar on high, and left them there
to sleep together, on the far-off Lycian shore. But Idas killed
the boar, and avenged Tiphys; and Ancaios took the rudder and was helmsman,
and steered them on toward the east.
And they went on past Sinope, and many a mighty river’s mouth,
and past many a barbarous tribe, and the cities of the Amazons, the
warlike women of the East, till all night they heard the clank of anvils
and the roar of furnace-blasts, and the forge-fires shone like sparks
through the darkness in the mountain glens aloft; for they were come
to the shores of the Chalybes, the smiths who never tire, but serve
Ares the cruel War-god, forging weapons day and night.
And at day-dawn they looked eastward, and midway between the sea and
the sky they saw white snow-peaks hanging, glittering sharp and bright
above the clouds. And they knew that they were come to Caucasus,
at the end of all the earth: Caucasus the highest of all mountains,
the father of the rivers of the East. On his peak lies chained
the Titan, while a vulture tears his heart; and at his feet are piled
dark forests round the magic Colchian land.
And they rowed three days to the eastward, while Caucasus rose higher
hour by hour, till they saw the dark stream of Phasis rushing headlong
to the sea, and, shining above the tree-tops, the golden roofs of King
Aietes, the child of the Sun.
Then out spoke Ancaios the helmsman, ‘We are come to our goal
at last, for there are the roofs of Aietes, and the woods where all
poisons grow; but who can tell us where among them is hid the golden
fleece? Many a toil must we bear ere we find it, and bring it
home to Greece.’
But Jason cheered the heroes, for his heart was high and bold; and he
said, ‘I will go alone up to Aietes, though he be the child of
the Sun, and win him with soft words. Better so than to go altogether,
and to come to blows at once.’ But the Minuai would not
stay behind, so they rowed boldly up the stream.
And a dream came to Aietes, and filled his heart with fear. He
thought he saw a shining star, which fell into his daughter’s
lap; and that Medeia his daughter took it gladly, and carried it to
the river-side, and cast it in, and there the whirling river bore it
down, and out into the Euxine Sea.
Then he leapt up in fear, and bade his servants bring his chariot, that
he might go down to the river-side and appease the nymphs, and the heroes
whose spirits haunt the bank. So he went down in his golden chariot,
and his daughters by his side, Medeia the fair witch-maiden, and Chalciope,
who had been Phrixus’ wife, and behind him a crowd of servants
and soldiers, for he was a rich and mighty prince.
And as he drove down by the reedy river he saw Argo sliding up
beneath the bank, and many a hero in her, like Immortals for beauty
and for strength, as their weapons glittered round them in the level
morning sunlight, through the white mist of the stream. But Jason
was the noblest of all; for Hera, who loved him, gave him beauty and
tallness and terrible manhood.
And when they came near together and looked into each other’s
eyes the heroes were awed before Aietes as he shone in his chariot,
like his father the glorious Sun; for his robes were of rich gold tissue,
and the rays of his diadem flashed fire; and in his hand he bore a jewelled
sceptre, which glittered like the stars; and sternly he looked at them
under his brows, and sternly he spoke and loud -
‘Who are you, and what want you here, that you come to the shore
of Cutaia? Do you take no account of my rule, nor of my people
the Colchians who serve me, who never tired yet in the battle, and know
well how to face an invader?’
And the heroes sat silent awhile before the face of that ancient king.
But Hera the awful goddess put courage into Jason’s heart, and
he rose and shouted loudly in answer, ‘We are no pirates nor lawless
men. We come not to plunder and to ravage, or carry away slaves
from your land; but my uncle, the son of Poseidon, Pelias the Minuan
king, he it is who has set me on a quest to bring home the golden fleece.
And these too, my bold comrades, they are no nameless men; for some
are the sons of Immortals, and some of heroes far renowned. And
we too never tire in battle, and know well how to give blows and to
take: yet we wish to be guests at your table: it will be better so for
both.’
Then Aietes’ race rushed up like a whirlwind, and his eyes flashed
fire as he heard; but he crushed his anger down in his breast, and spoke
mildly a cunning speech -
‘If you will fight for the fleece with my Colchians, then many
a man must die. But do you indeed expect to win from me the fleece
in fight? So few you are that if you be worsted I can load your
ship with your corpses. But if you will be ruled by me, you will
find it better far to choose the best man among you, and let him fulfil
the labours which I demand. Then I will give him the golden fleece
for a prize and a glory to you all.’
So saying, he turned his horses and drove back in silence to the town.
And the Minuai sat silent with sorrow, and longed for Heracles and his
strength; for there was no facing the thousands of the Colchians and
the fearful chance of war.
But Chalciope, Phrixus’ widow, went weeping to the town; for she
remembered her Minuan husband, and all the pleasures of her youth, while
she watched the fair faces of his kinsmen, and their long locks of golden
hair. And she whispered to Medeia her sister, ‘Why should
all these brave men die? why does not my father give them up the fleece,
that my husband’s spirit may have rest?’
And Medeia’s heart pitied the heroes, and Jason most of all; and
she answered, ‘Our father is stern and terrible, and who can win
the golden fleece?’ But Chalciope said, ‘These men
are not like our men; there is nothing which they cannot dare nor do.’
And Medeia thought of Jason and his brave countenance, and said, ‘If
there was one among them who knew no fear, I could show him how to win
the fleece.’
So in the dusk of evening they went down to the river-side, Chalciope
and Medeia the witch-maiden, and Argus, Phrixus’ son. And
Argus the boy crept forward, among the beds of reeds, till he came where
the heroes were sleeping, on the thwarts of the ship, beneath the bank,
while Jason kept ward on shore, and leant upon his lance full of thought.
And the boy came to Jason, and said -
‘I am the son of Phrixus, your Cousin; and Chalciope my
mother waits for you, to talk about the golden fleece.’
Then Jason went boldly with the boy, and found the two princesses standing;
and when Chalciope saw him she wept, and took his hands, and cried -
‘O cousin of my beloved, go home before you die!’
‘It would be base to go home now, fair princess, and to have sailed
all these seas in vain.’ Then both the princesses besought
him; but Jason said, ‘It is too late.’
‘But you know not,’ said Medeia, ‘what he must do
who would win the fleece. He must tame the two brazen-footed bulls,
who breathe devouring flame; and with them he must plough ere nightfall
four acres in the field of Ares; and he must sow them with serpents’
teeth, of which each tooth springs up into an armed man. Then
he must fight with all those warriors; and little will it profit him
to conquer them, for the fleece is guarded by a serpent, more huge than
any mountain pine; and over his body you must step if you would reach
the golden fleece.’
Then Jason laughed bitterly. ‘Unjustly is that fleece kept
here, and by an unjust and lawless king; and unjustly shall I die in
my youth, for I will attempt it ere another sun be set.’
Then Medeia trembled, and said, ‘No mortal man can reach that
fleece unless I guide him through. For round it, beyond the river,
is a wall full nine ells high, with lofty towers and buttresses, and
mighty gates of threefold brass; and over the gates the wall is arched,
with golden battlements above. And over the gateway sits Brimo,
the wild witch-huntress of the woods, brandishing a pine-torch in her
hands, while her mad hounds howl around. No man dare meet her
or look on her, but only I her priestess, and she watches far and wide
lest any stranger should come near.’
‘No wall so high but it may be climbed at last, and no wood so
thick but it may be crawled through; no serpent so wary but he may be
charmed, or witch-queen so fierce but spells may soothe her; and I may
yet win the golden fleece, if a wise maiden help bold men.’
And he looked at Medeia cunningly, and held her with his glittering
eye, till she blushed and trembled, and said -
‘Who can face the fire of the bulls’ breath, and fight ten
thousand armed men?’
‘He whom you help,’ said Jason, flattering her, ‘for
your fame is spread over all the earth. Are you not the queen
of all enchantresses, wiser even than your sister Circe, in her fairy
island in the West?’
‘Would that I were with my sister Circe in her fairy island in
the West, far away from sore temptation and thoughts which tear the
heart! But if it must be so - for why should you die? - I have
an ointment here; I made it from the magic ice-flower which sprang from
Prometheus’ wound, above the clouds on Caucasus, in the dreary
fields of snow. Anoint yourself with that, and you shall have
in you seven men’s strength; and anoint your shield with it, and
neither fire nor sword can harm you. But what you begin you must
end before sunset, for its virtue lasts only one day. And anoint
your helmet with it before you sow the serpents’ teeth; and when
the sons of earth spring up, cast your helmet among their ranks, and
the deadly crop of the War-god’s field will mow itself, and perish.’
Then Jason fell on his knees before her, and thanked her and kissed
her hands; and she gave him the vase of ointment, and fled trembling
through the reeds. And Jason told his comrades what had happened,
and showed them the box of ointment; and all rejoiced but Idas, and
he grew mad with envy.
And at sunrise Jason went and bathed, and anointed himself from head
to foot, and his shield, and his helmet, and his weapons, and bade his
comrades try the spell. So they tried to bend his lance, but it
stood like an iron bar; and Idas in spite hewed at it with his sword,
but the blade flew to splinters in his face. Then they hurled
their lances at his shield, but the spear-points turned like lead; and
Caineus tried to throw him, but he never stirred a foot; and Polydeuces
struck him with his fist a blow which would have killed an ox, but Jason
only smiled, and the heroes danced about him with delight; and he leapt,
and ran, and shouted in the joy of that enormous strength, till the
sun rose, and it was time to go and to claim Aietes’ promise.
So he sent up Telamon and Aithalides to tell Aietes that he was ready
for the fight; and they went up among the marble walls, and beneath
the roofs of gold, and stood in Aietes’ hall, while he grew pale
with rage.
‘Fulfil your promise to us, child of the blazing Sun. Give
us the serpents’ teeth, and let loose the fiery bulls; for we
have found a champion among us who can win the golden fleece.’
And Aietes bit his lips, for he fancied that they had fled away by night:
but he could not go back from his promise; so he gave them the serpents’
teeth.
Then he called for his chariot and his horses, and sent heralds through
all the town; and all the people went out with him to the dreadful War-god’s
field.
And there Aietes sat upon his throne, with his warriors on each hand,
thousands and tens of thousands, clothed from head to foot in steel
chain-mail. And the people and the women crowded to every window
and bank and wall; while the Minuai stood together, a mere handful in
the midst of that great host.
And Chalciope was there and Argus, trembling, and Medeia, wrapped closely
in her veil; but Aietes did not know that she was muttering cunning
spells between her lips.
Then Jason cried, ‘Fulfil your promise, and let your fiery bulls
come forth.’
Then Aietes bade open the gates, and the magic bulls leapt out.
Their brazen hoofs rang upon the ground, and their nostrils sent out
sheets of flame, as they rushed with lowered heads upon Jason; but he
never flinched a step. The flame of their breath swept round him,
but it singed not a hair of his head; and the bulls stopped short and
trembled when Medeia began her spell.
Then Jason sprang upon the nearest and seized him by the horn; and up
and down they wrestled, till the bull fell grovelling on his knees;
for the heart of the brute died within him, and his mighty limbs were
loosed, beneath the steadfast eye of that dark witch-maiden and the
magic whisper of her lips.
So both the bulls were tamed and yoked; and Jason bound them to the
plough, and goaded them onward with his lance till he had ploughed the
sacred field.
And all the Minuai shouted; but Aietes bit his lips with rage, for the
half of Jason’s work was over, and the sun was yet high in heaven.
Then he took the serpents’ teeth and sowed them, and waited what
would befall. But Medeia looked at him and at his helmet, lest
he should forget the lesson she had taught.
And every furrow heaved and bubbled, and out of every clod arose a man.
Out of the earth they rose by thousands, each clad from head to foot
in steel, and drew their swords and rushed on Jason, where he stood
in the midst alone.
Then the Minuai grew pale with fear for him; but Aietes laughed a bitter
laugh. ‘See! if I had not warriors enough already round
me, I could call them out of the bosom of the earth.’
But Jason snatched off his helmet, and hurled it into the thickest of
the throng. And blind madness came upon them, suspicion, hate,
and fear; and one cried to his fellow, ‘Thou didst strike me!’
and another, ‘Thou art Jason; thou shalt die!’ So
fury seized those earth-born phantoms, and each turned his hand against
the rest; and they fought and were never weary, till they all lay dead
upon the ground. Then the magic furrows opened, and the kind earth
took them home into her breast and the grass grew up all green again
above them, and Jason’s work was done.
Then the Minuai rose and shouted, till Prometheus heard them from his
crag. And Jason cried, ‘Lead me to the fleece this moment,
before the sun goes down.’
But Aietes thought, ‘He has conquered the bulls, and sown and
reaped the deadly crop. Who is this who is proof against all magic?
He may kill the serpent yet.’ So he delayed, and sat taking
counsel with his princes till the sun went down and all was dark.
Then he bade a herald cry, ‘Every man to his home for to-night.
To-morrow we will meet these heroes, and speak about the golden fleece.’
Then he turned and looked at Medeia. ‘This is your doing,
false witch-maid! You have helped these yellow-haired strangers,
and brought shame upon your father and yourself!’
Medeia shrank and trembled, and her face grew pale with fear; and Aietes
knew that she was guilty, and whispered, ‘If they win the fleece,
you die!’
But the Minuai marched toward their ship, growling like lions cheated
of their prey; for they saw that Aietes meant to mock them, and to cheat
them out of all their toil. And Oileus said, ‘Let us go
to the grove together, and take the fleece by force.’
And Idas the rash cried, ‘Let us draw lots who shall go in first;
for, while the dragon is devouring one, the rest can slay him and carry
off the fleece in peace.’ But Jason held them back, though
he praised them; for he hoped for Medeia’s help.
And after awhile Medeia came trembling, and wept a long while before
she spoke. And at last -
‘My end is come, and I must die; for my father has found out that
I have helped you. You he would kill if he dared; but he will
not harm you, because you have been his guests. Go then, go, and
remember poor Medeia when you are far away across the sea.’
But all the heroes cried -
‘If you die, we die with you; for without you we cannot win the
fleece, and home we will not go without it, but fall here fighting to
the last man.’
‘You need not die,’ said Jason. ‘Flee home with
us across the sea. Show us first how to win the fleece; for you
can do it. Why else are you the priestess of the grove?
Show us but how to win the fleece, and come with us, and you shall be
my queen, and rule over the rich princes of the Minuai, in Iolcos by
the sea.’
And all the heroes pressed round, and vowed to her that she should be
their queen.
Medeia wept, and shuddered, and hid her face in her hands; for her heart
yearned after her sisters and her playfellows, and the home where she
was brought up as a child. But at last she looked up at Jason,
and spoke between her sobs -
‘Must I leave my home and my people, to wander with strangers
across the sea? The lot is cast, and I must endure it. I
will show you how to win the golden fleece. Bring up your ship
to the wood-side, and moor her there against the bank; and let Jason
come up at midnight, and one brave comrade with him, and meet me beneath
the wall.’
Then all the heroes cried together, ‘I will go!’ ‘and
I!’ ‘and I!’ And Idas the rash grew mad with
envy; for he longed to be foremost in all things. But Medeia calmed
them, and said, ‘Orpheus shall go with Jason, and bring his magic
harp; for I hear of him that he is the king of all minstrels, and can
charm all things on earth.’
And Orpheus laughed for joy, and clapped his hands, because the choice
had fallen on him; for in those days poets and singers were as bold
warriors as the best.
So at midnight they went up the bank, and found Medeia; and beside came
Absyrtus her young brother, leading a yearling lamb.
Then Medeia brought them to a thicket beside the War-god’s gate;
and there she bade Jason dig a ditch, and kill the lamb, and leave it
there, and strew on it magic herbs and honey from the honeycomb.
Then sprang up through the earth, with the red fire flashing before
her, Brimo the wild witch-huntress, while her mad hounds howled around.
She had one head like a horse’s, and another like a ravening hound’s,
and another like a hissing snake’s, and a sword in either hand.
And she leapt into the ditch with her hounds, and they ate and drank
their fill, while Jason and Orpheus trembled, and Medeia hid her eyes.
And at last the witch-queen vanished, and fled with her hounds into
the woods; and the bars of the gates fell down, and the brazen doors
flew wide, and Medeia and the heroes ran forward and hurried through
the poison wood, among the dark stems of the mighty beeches, guided
by the gleam of the golden fleece, until they saw it hanging on one
vast tree in the midst. And Jason would have sprung to seize it;
but Medeia held him back, and pointed, shuddering, to the tree-foot,
where the mighty serpent lay, coiled in and out among the roots, with
a body like a mountain pine. His coils stretched many a fathom,
spangled with bronze and gold; and half of him they could see, but no
more, for the rest lay in the darkness far beyond.
And when he saw them coming he lifted up his head, and watched them
with his small bright eyes, and flashed his forked tongue, and roared
like the fire among the woodlands, till the forest tossed and groaned.
For his cries shook the trees from leaf to root, and swept over the
long reaches of the river, and over Aietes’ hall, and woke the
sleepers in the city, till mothers clasped their children in their fear.
But Medeia called gently to him, and he stretched out his long spotted
neck, and licked her hand, and looked up in her face, as if to ask for
food. Then she made a sign to Orpheus, and he began his magic
song.
And as he sung, the forest grew calm again, and the leaves on every
tree hung still; and the serpent’s head sank down, and his brazen
coils grew limp, and his glittering eyes closed lazily, till he breathed
as gently as a child, while Orpheus called to pleasant Slumber, who
gives peace to men, and beasts, and waves.
Then Jason leapt forward warily, and stept across that mighty snake,
and tore the fleece from off the tree-trunk; and the four rushed down
the garden, to the bank where the Argo lay.
There was a silence for a moment, while Jason held the golden fleece
on high. Then he cried, ‘Go now, good Argo, swift
and steady, if ever you would see Pelion more.’
And she went, as the heroes drove her, grim and silent all, with muffled
oars, till the pine-wood bent like willow in their hands, and stout
Argo groaned beneath their strokes.
On and on, beneath the dewy darkness, they fled swiftly down the swirling
stream; underneath black walls, and temples, and the castles of the
princes of the East; past sluice-mouths, and fragrant gardens, and groves
of all strange fruits; past marshes where fat kine lay sleeping, and
long beds of whispering reeds; till they heard the merry music of the
surge upon the bar, as it tumbled in the moonlight all alone.
Into the surge they rushed, and Argo leapt the breakers like
a horse; for she knew the time was come to show her mettle, and win
honour for the heroes and herself.
Into the surge they rushed, and Argo leapt the breakers like
a horse, till the heroes stopped all panting, each man upon his oar,
as she slid into the still broad sea.
Then Orpheus took his harp and sang a paean, till the heroes’
hearts rose high again; and they rowed on stoutly and steadfastly, away
into the darkness of the West.
PART V - HOW THE ARGONAUTS WERE DRIVEN INTO THE UNKNOWN SEA
So they fled away in haste to the westward; but Aietes manned his fleet
and followed them. And Lynceus the quick-eyed saw him coming,
while he was still many a mile away, and cried, ‘I see a hundred
ships, like a flock of white swans, far in the east.’ And
at that they rowed hard, like heroes; but the ships came nearer every
hour.
Then Medeia, the dark witch-maiden, laid a cruel and a cunning plot;
for she killed Absyrtus her young brother, and cast him into the sea,
and said, ‘Ere my father can take up his corpse and bury it, he
must wait long, and be left far behind.’
And all the heroes shuddered, and looked one at the other for shame;
yet they did not punish that dark witch-woman, because she had won for
them the golden fleece.
And when Aietes came to the place he saw the floating corpse; and he
stopped a long while, and bewailed his son, and took him up, and went
home. But he sent on his sailors toward the westward, and bound
them by a mighty curse - ‘Bring back to me that dark witch-woman,
that she may die a dreadful death. But if you return without her,
you shall die by the same death yourselves.’
So the Argonauts escaped for that time: but Father Zeus saw that foul
crime; and out of the heavens he sent a storm, and swept the ship far
from her course. Day after day the storm drove her, amid foam
and blinding mist, till they knew no longer where they were, for the
sun was blotted from the skies. And at last the ship struck on
a shoal, amid low isles of mud and sand, and the waves rolled over her
and through her, and the heroes lost all hope of life.
Then Jason cried to Hera, ‘Fair queen, who hast befriended us
till now, why hast thou left us in our misery, to die here among unknown
seas? It is hard to lose the honour which we have won with such
toil and danger, and hard never to see Hellas again, and the pleasant
bay of Pagasai.’
Then out and spoke the magic bough which stood upon the Argo’s
beak, ‘Because Father Zeus is angry, all this has fallen on you;
for a cruel crime has been done on board, and the sacred ship is foul
with blood.’
At that some of the heroes cried, ‘Medeia is the murderess.
Let the witch-woman bear her sin, and die!’ And they seized
Medeia, to hurl her into the sea, and atone for the young boy’s
death; but the magic bough spoke again, ‘Let her live till her
crimes are full. Vengeance waits for her, slow and sure; but she
must live, for you need her still. She must show you the way to
her sister Circe, who lives among the islands of the West. To
her you must sail, a weary way, and she shall cleanse you from your
guilt.’
Then all the heroes wept aloud when they heard the sentence of the oak;
for they knew that a dark journey lay before them, and years of bitter
toil. And some upbraided the dark witch-woman, and some said,
‘Nay, we are her debtors still; without her we should never have
won the fleece.’ But most of them bit their lips in silence,
for they feared the witch’s spells.
And now the sea grew calmer, and the sun shone out once more, and the
heroes thrust the ship off the sand-bank, and rowed forward on their
weary course under the guiding of the dark witch-maiden, into the wastes
of the unknown sea.
Whither they went I cannot tell, nor how they came to Circe’s
isle. Some say that they went to the westward, and up the Ister
{2} stream, and so
came into the Adriatic, dragging their ship over the snowy Alps.
And others say that they went southward, into the Red Indian Sea, and
past the sunny lands where spices grow, round Æthiopia toward
the West; and that at last they came to Libya, and dragged their ship
across the burning sands, and over the hills into the Syrtes, where
the flats and quicksands spread for many a mile, between rich Cyrene
and the Lotus-eaters’ shore. But all these are but dreams
and fables, and dim hints of unknown lands.
But all say that they came to a place where they had to drag their ship
across the land nine days with ropes and rollers, till they came into
an unknown sea. And the best of all the old songs tells us how
they went away toward the North, till they came to the slope of Caucasus,
where it sinks into the sea; and to the narrow Cimmerian Bosphorus,
{3} where the Titan
swam across upon the bull; and thence into the lazy waters of the still
Maeotid lake. {4}
And thence they went northward ever, up the Tanais, which we call Don,
past the Geloni and Sauromatai, and many a wandering shepherd-tribe,
and the one-eyed Arimaspi, of whom old Greek poets tell, who steal the
gold from the Griffins, in the cold Riphaian hills. {5}
And they passed the Scythian archers, and the Tauri who eat men, and
the wandering Hyperboreai, who feed their flocks beneath the pole-star,
until they came into the northern ocean, the dull dead Cronian Sea.
{6} And there
Argo would move on no longer; and each man clasped his elbow,
and leaned his head upon his hand, heart-broken with toil and hunger,
and gave himself up to death. But brave Ancaios the helmsman cheered
up their hearts once more, and bade them leap on land, and haul the
ship with ropes and rollers for many a weary day, whether over land,
or mud, or ice, I know not, for the song is mixed and broken like a
dream. And it says next, how they came to the rich nation of the
famous long-lived men; and to the coast of the Cimmerians, who never
saw the sun, buried deep in the glens of the snow mountains; and to
the fair land of Hermione, where dwelt the most righteous of all nations;
and to the gates of the world below, and to the dwelling-place of dreams.
And at last Ancaios shouted, ‘Endure a little while, brave friends,
the worst is surely past; for I can see the pure west wind ruffle the
water, and hear the roar of ocean on the sands. So raise up the
mast, and set the sail, and face what comes like men.’
Then out spoke the magic bough, ‘Ah, would that I had perished
long ago, and been whelmed by the dread blue rocks, beneath the fierce
swell of the Euxine! Better so, than to wander for ever, disgraced
by the guilt of my princes; for the blood of Absyrtus still tracks me,
and woe follows hard upon woe. And now some dark horror will clutch
me, if I come near the Isle of Ierne. {7}
Unless you will cling to the land, and sail southward and southward
for ever, I shall wander beyond the Atlantic, to the ocean which has
no shore.’
Then they blest the magic bough, and sailed southward along the land.
But ere they could pass Ierne, the land of mists and storms, the wild
wind came down, dark and roaring, and caught the sail, and strained
the ropes. And away they drove twelve nights, on the wide wild
western sea, through the foam, and over the rollers, while they saw
neither sun nor stars. And they cried again, ‘We shall perish,
for we know not where we are. We are lost in the dreary damp darkness,
and cannot tell north from south.’
But Lynceus the long-sighted called gaily from the bows, ‘Take
heart again, brave sailors; for I see a pine-clad isle, and the halls
of the kind Earth-mother, with a crown of clouds around them.’
But Orpheus said, ‘Turn from them, for no living man can land
there: there is no harbour on the coast, but steep-walled cliffs all
round.’
So Ancaios turned the ship away; and for three days more they sailed
on, till they came to Aiaia, Circe’s home, and the fairy island
of the West. {8}
And there Jason bid them land, and seek about for any sign of living
man. And as they went inland Circe met them, coming down toward
the ship; and they trembled when they saw her, for her hair, and face,
and robes shone like flame.
And she came and looked at Medeia; and Medeia hid her face beneath her
veil.
And Circe cried, ‘Ah, wretched girl, have you forgotten all your
sins, that you come hither to my island, where the flowers bloom all
the year round? Where is your aged father, and the brother whom
you killed? Little do I expect you to return in safety with these
strangers whom you love. I will send you food and wine: but your
ship must not stay here, for it is foul with sin, and foul with sin
its crew.’
And the heroes prayed her, but in vain, and cried, ‘Cleanse us
from our guilt!’ But she sent them away, and said, ‘Go on
to Malea, and there you may be cleansed, and return home.’
Then a fair wind rose, and they sailed eastward by Tartessus on the
Iberian shore, till they came to the Pillars of Hercules, and the Mediterranean
Sea. And thence they sailed on through the deeps of Sardinia,
and past the Ausonian islands, and the capes of the Tyrrhenian shore,
till they came to a flowery island, upon a still bright summer’s
eve. And as they neared it, slowly and wearily, they heard sweet
songs upon the shore. But when Medeia heard it, she started, and
cried, ‘Beware, all heroes, for these are the rocks of the Sirens.
You must pass close by them, for there is no other channel; but those
who listen to that song are lost.’
Then Orpheus spoke, the king of all minstrels, ‘Let them match
their song against mine. I have charmed stones, and trees, and
dragons, how much more the hearts of men!’ So he caught
up his lyre, and stood upon the poop, and began his magic song.
And now they could see the Sirens on Anthemousa, the flowery isle;
three fair maidens sitting on the beach, beneath a red rock in the setting
sun, among beds of crimson poppies and golden asphodel. Slowly
they sung and sleepily, with silver voices, mild and clear, which stole
over the golden waters, and into the hearts of all the heroes, in spite
of Orpheus’ song.
And all things stayed around and listened; the gulls sat in white lines
along the rocks; on the beach great seals lay basking, and kept time
with lazy heads; while silver shoals of fish came up to hearken, and
whispered as they broke the shining calm. The Wind overhead hushed
his whistling, as he shepherded his clouds toward the west; and the
clouds stood in mid blue, and listened dreaming, like a flock of golden
sheep.
And as the heroes listened, the oars fell from their hands, and their
heads drooped on their breasts, and they closed their heavy eyes; and
they dreamed of bright still gardens, and of slumbers under murmuring
pines, till all their toil seemed foolishness, and they thought of their
renown no more.
Then one lifted his head suddenly, and cried, ‘What use in wandering
for ever? Let us stay here and rest awhile.’ And another,
‘Let us row to the shore, and hear the words they sing.’
And another, ‘I care not for the words, but for the music.
They shall sing me to sleep, that I may rest.’
And Butes, the son of Pandion, the fairest of all mortal men, leapt
out and swam toward the shore, crying, ‘I come, I come, fair maidens,
to live and die here, listening to your song.’
Then Medeia clapped her hands together, and cried, ‘Sing louder,
Orpheus, sing a bolder strain; wake up these hapless sluggards, or none
of them will see the land of Hellas more.’
Then Orpheus lifted his harp, and crashed his cunning hand across the
strings; and his music and his voice rose like a trumpet through the
still evening air; into the air it rushed like thunder, till the rocks
rang and the sea; and into their souls it rushed like wine, till all
hearts beat fast within their breasts.
And he sung the song of Perseus, how the Gods led him over land and
sea, and how he slew the loathly Gorgon, and won himself a peerless
bride; and how he sits now with the Gods upon Olympus, a shining star
in the sky, immortal with his immortal bride, and honoured by all men
below.
So Orpheus sang, and the Sirens, answering each other across the golden
sea, till Orpheus’ voice drowned the Sirens’, and the heroes
caught their oars again.
And they cried, ‘We will be men like Perseus, and we will dare
and suffer to the last. Sing us his song again, brave Orpheus,
that we may forget the Sirens and their spell.’
And as Orpheus sang, they dashed their oars into the sea, and kept time
to his music, as they fled fast away; and the Sirens’ voices died
behind them, in the hissing of the foam along their wake.
But Butes swam to the shore, and knelt down before the Sirens, and cried,
‘Sing on! sing on!’ But he could say no more, for
a charmed sleep came over him, and a pleasant humming in his ears; and
he sank all along upon the pebbles, and forgot all heaven and earth,
and never looked at that sad beach around him, all strewn with the bones
of men.
Then slowly rose up those three fair sisters, with a cruel smile upon
their lips; and slowly they crept down towards him, like leopards who
creep upon their prey; and their hands were like the talons of eagles
as they stept across the bones of their victims to enjoy their cruel
feast.
But fairest Aphrodite saw him from the highest Idalian peak, and she
pitied his youth and his beauty, and leapt up from her golden throne;
and like a falling star she cleft the sky, and left a trail of glittering
light, till she stooped to the Isle of the Sirens, and snatched their
prey from their claws. And she lifted Butes as he lay sleeping,
and wrapt him in golden mist; and she bore him to the peak of Lilybaeum,
and he slept there many a pleasant year.
But when the Sirens saw that they were conquered, they shrieked for
envy and rage, and leapt from the beach into the sea, and were changed
into rocks until this day.
Then they came to the straits by Lilybaeum, and saw Sicily, the three-cornered
island, under which Enceladus the giant lies groaning day and night,
and when he turns the earth quakes, and his breath bursts out in roaring
flames from the highest cone of Ætna, above the chestnut woods.
And there Charybdis caught them in its fearful coils of wave, and rolled
mast-high about them, and spun them round and round; and they could
go neither back nor forward, while the whirlpool sucked them in.
And while they struggled they saw near them, on the other side the strait,
a rock stand in the water, with its peak wrapt round in clouds - a rock
which no man could climb, though he had twenty hands and feet, for the
stone was smooth and slippery, as if polished by man’s hand; and
halfway up a misty cave looked out toward the west.
And when Orpheus saw it he groaned, and struck his hands together.
And ‘Little will it help us,’ he cried, ‘to escape
the jaws of the whirlpool; for in that cave lives Scylla, the sea-hag
with a young whelp’s voice; my mother warned me of her ere we
sailed away from Hellas; she has six heads, and six long necks, and
hides in that dark cleft. And from her cave she fishes for all
things which pass by - for sharks, and seals, and dolphins, and all
the herds of Amphitrite. And never ship’s crew boasted that
they came safe by her rock, for she bends her long necks down to them,
and every mouth takes up a man. And who will help us now?
For Hera and Zeus hate us, and our ship is foul with guilt; so we must
die, whatever befalls.’
Then out of the depths came Thetis, Peleus’ silver-footed bride,
for love of her gallant husband, and all her nymphs around her; and
they played like snow-white dolphins, diving on from wave to wave, before
the ship, and in her wake, and beside her, as dolphins play. And
they caught the ship, and guided her, and passed her on from hand to
hand, and tossed her through the billows, as maidens toss the ball.
And when Scylla stooped to seize her, they struck back her ravening
heads, and foul Scylla whined, as a whelp whines, at the touch of their
gentle hands. But she shrank into her cave affrighted - for all
bad things shrink from good - and Argo leapt safe past her, while
a fair breeze rose behind. Then Thetis and her nymphs sank down
to their coral caves beneath the sea, and their gardens of green and
purple, where live flowers bloom all the year round; while the heroes
went on rejoicing, yet dreading what might come next.
After that they rowed on steadily for many a weary day, till they saw
a long high island, and beyond it a mountain land. And they searched
till they found a harbour, and there rowed boldly in. But after
awhile they stopped, and wondered, for there stood a great city on the
shore, and temples and walls and gardens, and castles high in air upon
the cliffs. And on either side they saw a harbour, with a narrow
mouth, but wide within; and black ships without number, high and dry
upon the shore.
Then Ancaios, the wise helmsman, spoke, ‘What new wonder is this?
I know all isles, and harbours, and the windings of all seas; and this
should be Corcyra, where a few wild goat-herds dwell. But whence
come these new harbours and vast works of polished stone?’
But Jason said, ‘They can be no savage people. We will go
in and take our chance.’
So they rowed into the harbour, among a thousand black-beaked ships,
each larger far than Argo, toward a quay of polished stone.
And they wondered at that mighty city, with its roofs of burnished brass,
and long and lofty walls of marble, with strong palisades above.
And the quays were full of people, merchants, and mariners, and slaves,
going to and fro with merchandise among the crowd of ships. And
the heroes’ hearts were humbled, and they looked at each other
and said, ‘We thought ourselves a gallant crew when we sailed
from Iolcos by the sea; but how small we look before this city, like
an ant before a hive of bees.’
Then the sailors hailed them roughly from the quay, ‘What men
are you? - we want no strangers here, nor pirates. We keep our
business to ourselves.’
But Jason answered gently, with many a flattering word, and praised
their city and their harbour, and their fleet of gallant ships.
‘Surely you are the children of Poseidon, and the masters of the
sea; and we are but poor wandering mariners, worn out with thirst and
toil. Give us but food and water, and we will go on our voyage
in peace.’
Then the sailors laughed, and answered, ‘Stranger, you are no
fool; you talk like an honest man, and you shall find us honest too.
We are the children of Poseidon, and the masters of the sea; but come
ashore to us, and you shall have the best that we can give.’
So they limped ashore, all stiff and weary, with long ragged beards
and sunburnt cheeks, and garments torn and weather-stained, and weapons
rusted with the spray, while the sailors laughed at them (for they were
rough-tongued, though their hearts were frank and kind). And one
said, ‘These fellows are but raw sailors; they look as if they
had been sea-sick all the day.’ And another, ‘Their
legs have grown crooked with much rowing, till they waddle in their
walk like ducks.’
At that Idas the rash would have struck them; but Jason held him back,
till one of the merchant kings spoke to them, a tall and stately man.
‘Do not be angry, strangers; the sailor boys must have their jest.
But we will treat you justly and kindly, for strangers and poor men
come from God; and you seem no common sailors by your strength, and
height, and weapons. Come up with me to the palace of Alcinous,
the rich sea-going king, and we will feast you well and heartily; and
after that you shall tell us your name.’
But Medeia hung back, and trembled, and whispered in Jason’s ear,
‘We are betrayed, and are going to our ruin, for I see my countrymen
among the crowd; dark-eyed Colchi in steel mail-shirts, such as they
wear in my father’s land.’
‘It is too late to turn,’ said Jason. And he spoke
to the merchant king, ‘What country is this, good sir; and what
is this new-built town?’
‘This is the land of the Phaeaces, beloved by all the Immortals;
for they come hither and feast like friends with us, and sit by our
side in the hall. Hither we came from Liburnia to escape the unrighteous
Cyclopes; for they robbed us, peaceful merchants, of our hard-earned
wares and wealth. So Nausithous, the son of Poseidon, brought
us hither, and died in peace; and now his son Alcinous rules us, and
Arete the wisest of queens.’
So they went up across the square, and wondered still more as they went;
for along the quays lay in order great cables, and yards, and masts,
before the fair temple of Poseidon, the blue-haired king of the seas.
And round the square worked the ship-wrights, as many in number as ants,
twining ropes, and hewing timber, and smoothing long yards and oars.
And the Minuai went on in silence through clean white marble streets,
till they came to the hall of Alcinous, and they wondered then still
more. For the lofty palace shone aloft in the sun, with walls
of plated brass, from the threshold to the innermost chamber, and the
doors were of silver and gold. And on each side of the doorway
sat living dogs of gold, who never grew old or died, so well Hephaistos
had made them in his forges in smoking Lemnos, and gave them to Alcinous
to guard his gates by night. And within, against the walls, stood
thrones on either side, down the whole length of the hall, strewn with
rich glossy shawls; and on them the merchant kings of those crafty sea-roving
Phaeaces sat eating and drinking in pride, and feasting there all the
year round. And boys of molten gold stood each on a polished altar,
and held torches in their hands, to give light all night to the guests.
And round the house sat fifty maid-servants, some grinding the meal
in the mill, some turning the spindle, some weaving at the loom, while
their hands twinkled as they passed the shuttle, like quivering aspen
leaves.
And outside before the palace a great garden was walled round, filled
full of stately fruit-trees, gray olives and sweet figs, and pomegranates,
pears, and apples, which bore the whole year round. For the rich
south-west wind fed them, till pear grew ripe on pear, fig on fig, and
grape on grape, all the winter and the spring. And at the farther
end gay flower-beds bloomed through all seasons of the year; and two
fair fountains rose, and ran, one through the garden grounds, and one
beneath the palace gate, to water all the town. Such noble gifts
the heavens had given to Alcinous the wise.
So they went in, and saw him sitting, like Poseidon, on his throne,
with his golden sceptre by him, in garments stiff with gold, and in
his hand a sculptured goblet, as he pledged the merchant kings; and
beside him stood Arete, his wise and lovely queen, and leaned against
a pillar as she spun her golden threads.
Then Alcinous rose, and welcomed them, and bade them sit and eat; and
the servants brought them tables, and bread, and meat, and wine.
But Medeia went on trembling toward Arete the fair queen, and fell at
her knees, and clasped them, and cried, weeping, as she knelt -
‘I am your guest, fair queen, and I entreat you by Zeus, from
whom prayers come. Do not send me back to my father to die some
dreadful death; but let me go my way, and bear my burden. Have
I not had enough of punishment and shame?’
‘Who are you, strange maiden? and what is the meaning of your
prayer?’
‘I am Medeia, daughter of Aietes, and I saw my countrymen here
to-day; and I know that they are come to find me, and take me home to
die some dreadful death.’
Then Arete frowned, and said, ‘Lead this girl in, my maidens;
and let the kings decide, not I.’
And Alcinous leapt up from his throne, and cried, ‘Speak, strangers,
who are you? And who is this maiden?’
‘We are the heroes of the Minuai,’ said Jason; ‘and
this maiden has spoken truth. We are the men who took the golden
fleece, the men whose fame has run round every shore. We came
hither out of the ocean, after sorrows such as man never saw before.
We went out many, and come back few, for many a noble comrade have we
lost. So let us go, as you should let your guests go, in peace;
that the world may say, “Alcinous is a just king.”’
But Alcinous frowned, and stood deep in thought; and at last he spoke
-
‘Had not the deed been done which is done, I should have said
this day to myself, “It is an honour to Alcinous, and to his children
after him, that the far-famed Argonauts are his guests.”
But these Colchi are my guests, as you are; and for this month they
have waited here with all their fleet, for they have hunted all the
seas of Hellas, and could not find you, and dared neither go farther,
nor go home.’
‘Let them choose out their champions, and we will fight them,
man for man.’
‘No guests of ours shall fight upon our island, and if you go
outside they will outnumber you. I will do justice between you,
for I know and do what is right.’
Then he turned to his kings, and said, ‘This may stand over till
to-morrow. To-night we will feast our guests, and hear the story
of all their wanderings, and how they came hither out of the ocean.’
So Alcinous bade the servants take the heroes in, and bathe them, and
give them clothes. And they were glad when they saw the warm water,
for it was long since they had bathed. And they washed off the
sea-salt from their limbs, and anointed themselves from head to foot
with oil, and combed out their golden hair. Then they came back
again into the hall, while the merchant kings rose up to do them honour.
And each man said to his neighbour, ‘No wonder that these men
won fame. How they stand now like Giants, or Titans, or Immortals
come down from Olympus, though many a winter has worn them, and many
a fearful storm. What must they have been when they sailed from
Iolcos, in the bloom of their youth, long ago?’
Then they went out to the garden; and the merchant princes said, ‘Heroes,
run races with us. Let us see whose feet are nimblest.’
‘We cannot race against you, for our limbs are stiff from sea;
and we have lost our two swift comrades, the sons of the north wind.
But do not think us cowards: if you wish to try our strength, we will
shoot, and box, and wrestle, against any men on earth.’
And Alcinous smiled, and answered, ‘I believe you, gallant guests;
with your long limbs and broad shoulders, we could never match you here.
For we care nothing here for boxing, or for shooting with the bow; but
for feasts, and songs, and harping, and dancing, and running races,
to stretch our limbs on shore.’
So they danced there and ran races, the jolly merchant kings, till the
night fell, and all went in.
And then they ate and drank, and comforted their weary souls, till Alcinous
called a herald, and bade him go and fetch the harper.
The herald went out, and fetched the harper, and led him in by the hand;
and Alcinous cut him a piece of meat, from the fattest of the haunch,
and sent it to him, and said, ‘Sing to us, noble harper, and rejoice
the heroes’ hearts.’
So the harper played and sang, while the dancers danced strange figures;
and after that the tumblers showed their tricks, till the heroes laughed
again.
Then, ‘Tell me, heroes,’ asked Alcinous, ‘you who
have sailed the ocean round, and seen the manners of all nations, have
you seen such dancers as ours here, or heard such music and such singing?
We hold ours to be the best on earth.’
‘Such dancing we have never seen,’ said Orpheus; ‘and
your singer is a happy man, for Phoebus himself must have taught him,
or else he is the son of a Muse, as I am also, and have sung once or
twice, though not so well as he.’
‘Sing to us, then, noble stranger,’ said Alcinous; ‘and
we will give you precious gifts.’
So Orpheus took his magic harp, and sang to them a stirring song of
their voyage from Iolcos, and their dangers, and how they won the golden
fleece; and of Medeia’s love, and how she helped them, and went
with them over land and sea; and of all their fearful dangers, from
monsters, and rocks, and storms, till the heart of Arete was softened,
and all the women wept. And the merchant kings rose up, each man
from off his golden throne, and clapped their hands, and shouted, ‘Hail
to the noble Argonauts, who sailed the unknown sea!’
Then he went on, and told their journey over the sluggish northern main,
and through the shoreless outer ocean, to the fairy island of the west;
and of the Sirens, and Scylla, and Charybdis, and all the wonders they
had seen, till midnight passed and the day dawned; but the kings never
thought of sleep. Each man sat still and listened, with his chin
upon his hand.
And at last, when Orpheus had ended, they all went thoughtful out, and
the heroes lay down to sleep, beneath the sounding porch outside, where
Arete had strewn them rugs and carpets, in the sweet still summer night.
But Arete pleaded hard with her husband for Medeia, for her heart was
softened. And she said, ‘The Gods will punish her, not we.
After all, she is our guest and my suppliant, and prayers are the daughters
of Zeus. And who, too, dare part man and wife, after all they
have endured together?’
And Alcinous smiled. ‘The minstrel’s song has charmed
you: but I must remember what is right, for songs cannot alter justice;
and I must be faithful to my name. Alcinous I am called, the man
of sturdy sense; and Alcinous I will be.’ But for all that
Arete besought him, until she won him round.
So next morning he sent a herald, and called the kings into the square,
and said, ‘This is a puzzling matter: remember but one thing.
These Minuai live close by us, and we may meet them often on the seas;
but Aietes lives afar off, and we have only heard his name. Which,
then, of the two is it safer to offend - the men near us, or the men
far off?’
The princes laughed, and praised his wisdom; and Alcinous called the
heroes to the square, and the Colchi also; and they came and stood opposite
each other, but Medeia stayed in the palace. Then Alcinous spoke,
‘Heroes of the Colchi, what is your errand about this lady?’
‘To carry her home with us, that she may die a shameful death;
but if we return without her, we must die the death she should have
died.’
‘What say you to this, Jason the Æolid?’ said Alcinous,
turning to the Minuai.
‘I say,’ said the cunning Jason, ‘that they are come
here on a bootless errand. Do you think that you can make her
follow you, heroes of the Colchi - her, who knows all spells and charms?
She will cast away your ships on quicksands, or call down on you Brimo
the wild huntress; or the chains will fall from off her wrists, and
she will escape in her dragon-car; or if not thus, some other way, for
she has a thousand plans and wiles. And why return home at all,
brave heroes, and face the long seas again, and the Bosphorus, and the
stormy Euxine, and double all your toil? There is many a fair
land round these coasts, which waits for gallant men like you.
Better to settle there, and build a city, and let Aietes and Colchis
help themselves.’
Then a murmur rose among the Colchi, and some cried ‘He has spoken
well;’ and some, ‘We have had enough of roving, we will
sail the seas no more!’ And the chief said at last, ‘Be
it so, then; a plague she has been to us, and a plague to the house
of her father, and a plague she will be to you. Take her, since
you are no wiser; and we will sail away toward the north.’
Then Alcinous gave them food, and water, and garments, and rich presents
of all sorts; and he gave the same to the Minuai, and sent them all
away in peace.
So Jason kept the dark witch-maiden to breed him woe and shame; and
the Colchi went northward into the Adriatic, and settled, and built
towns along the shore.
Then the heroes rowed away to the eastward, to reach Hellas, their beloved
land; but a storm came down upon them, and swept them far away toward
the south. And they rowed till they were spent with struggling,
through the darkness and the blinding rain; but where they were they
could not tell, and they gave up all hope of life. And at last
touched the ground, and when daylight came waded to the shore; and saw
nothing round but sand and desolate salt pools, for they had come to
the quicksands of the Syrtis, and the dreary treeless flats which lie
between Numidia and Cyrene, on the burning shore of Africa. And
there they wandered starving for many a weary day, ere they could launch
their ship again, and gain the open sea. And there Canthus was
killed, while he was trying to drive off sheep, by a stone which a herdsman
threw.
And there too Mopsus died, the seer who knew the voices of all birds;
but he could not foretell his own end, for he was bitten in the foot
by a snake, one of those which sprang from the Gorgon’s head when
Perseus carried it across the sands.
At last they rowed away toward the northward, for many a weary day,
till their water was spent, and their food eaten; and they were worn
out with hunger and thirst. But at last they saw a long steep
island, and a blue peak high among the clouds; and they knew it for
the peak of Ida, and the famous land of Crete. And they said,
‘We will land in Crete, and see Minos the just king, and all his
glory and his wealth; at least he will treat us hospitably, and let
us fill our water-casks upon the shore.’
But when they came nearer to the island they saw a wondrous sight upon
the cliffs. For on a cape to the westward stood a giant, taller
than any mountain pine, who glittered aloft against the sky like a tower
of burnished brass. He turned and looked on all sides round him,
till he saw the Argo and her crew; and when he saw them he came
toward them, more swiftly than the swiftest horse, leaping across the
glens at a bound, and striding at one step from down to down.
And when he came abreast of them he brandished his arms up and down,
as a ship hoists and lowers her yards, and shouted with his brazen throat
like a trumpet from off the hills, ‘You are pirates, you are robbers!
If you dare land here, you die.’
Then the heroes cried, ‘We are no pirates. We are all good
men and true, and all we ask is food and water;’ but the giant
cried the more -
‘You are robbers, you are pirates all; I know you; and if you
land, you shall die the death.’
Then he waved his arms again as a signal, and they saw the people flying
inland, driving their flocks before them, while a great flame arose
among the hills. Then the giant ran up a valley and vanished,
and the heroes lay on their oars in fear.
But Medeia stood watching all from under her steep black brows, with
a cunning smile upon her lips, and a cunning plot within her heart.
At last she spoke, ‘I know this giant. I heard of him in
the East. Hephaistos the Fire King made him in his forge in Ætna
beneath the earth, and called him Talus, and gave him to Minos for a
servant, to guard the coast of Crete. Thrice a day he walks round
the island, and never stops to sleep; and if strangers land he leaps
into his furnace, which flames there among the hills; and when he is
red-hot he rushes on them, and burns them in his brazen hands.’
Then all the heroes cried, ‘What shall we do, wise Medeia?
We must have water, or we die of thirst. Flesh and blood we can
face fairly; but who can face this red-hot brass?’
‘I can face red-hot brass, if the tale I hear be true. For
they say that he has but one vein in all his body, filled with liquid
fire; and that this vein is closed with a nail: but I know not where
that nail is placed. But if I can get it once into these hands,
you shall water your ship here in peace.’
Then she bade them put her on shore, and row off again, and wait what
would befall.
And the heroes obeyed her unwillingly, for they were ashamed to leave
her so alone; but Jason said, ‘She is dearer to me than to any
of you, yet I will trust her freely on shore; she has more plots than
we can dream of in the windings of that fair and cunning head.’
So they left the witch-maiden on the shore; and she stood there in her
beauty all alone, till the giant strode back red-hot from head to heel,
while the grass hissed and smoked beneath his tread.
And when he saw the maiden alone, he stopped; and she looked boldly
up into his face without moving, and began her magic song:-
‘Life is short, though life is sweet; and even men of brass and
fire must die. The brass must rust, the fire must cool, for time
gnaws all things in their turn. Life is short, though life is
sweet: but sweeter to live for ever; sweeter to live ever youthful like
the Gods, who have ichor in their veins - ichor which gives life, and
youth, and joy, and a bounding heart.’
Then Talus said, ‘Who are you, strange maiden, and where is this
ichor of youth?’
Then Medeia held up a flask of crystal, and said, ‘Here is the
ichor of youth. I am Medeia the enchantress; my sister Circe gave
me this, and said, “Go and reward Talus, the faithful servant,
for his fame is gone out into all lands.” So come, and I
will pour this into your veins, that you may live for ever young.’
And he listened to her false words, that simple Talus, and came near;
and Medeia said, ‘Dip yourself in the sea first, and cool yourself,
lest you burn my tender hands; then show me where the nail in your vein
is, that I may pour the ichor in.’
Then that simple Talus dipped himself in the sea, till it hissed, and
roared, and smoked; and came and knelt before Medeia, and showed her
the secret nail.
And she drew the nail out gently, but she poured no ichor in; and instead
the liquid fire spouted forth, like a stream of red-hot iron.
And Talus tried to leap up, crying, ‘You have betrayed me, false
witch-maiden!’ But she lifted up her hands before him, and
sang, till he sank beneath her spell. And as he sank, his brazen
limbs clanked heavily, and the earth groaned beneath his weight; and
the liquid fire ran from his heel, like a stream of lava, to the sea;
and Medeia laughed, and called to the heroes, ‘Come ashore, and
water your ship in peace.’
So they came, and found the giant lying dead; and they fell down, and
kissed Medeia’s feet; and watered their ship, and took sheep and
oxen, and so left that inhospitable shore.
At last, after many more adventures, they came to the Cape of Malea,
at the south-west point of the Peloponnese. And there they offered
sacrifices, and Orpheus purged them from their guilt. Then they
rode away again to the northward, past the Laconian shore, and came
all worn and tired by Sunium, and up the long Euboean Strait, until
they saw once more Pelion, and Aphetai, and Iolcos by the sea.
And they ran the ship ashore; but they had no strength left to haul
her up the beach; and they crawled out on the pebbles, and sat down,
and wept till they could weep no more. For the houses and the
trees were all altered; and all the faces which they saw were strange;
and their joy was swallowed up in sorrow, while they thought of their
youth, and all their labour, and the gallant comrades they had lost.
And the people crowded round, and asked them ‘Who are you, that
you sit weeping here?’
‘We are the sons of your princes, who sailed out many a year ago.
We went to fetch the golden fleece, and we have brought it, and grief
therewith. Give us news of our fathers and our mothers, if any
of them be left alive on earth.’
Then there was shouting, and laughing, and weeping; and all the kings
came to the shore, and they led away the heroes to their homes, and
bewailed the valiant dead.
Then Jason went up with Medeia to the palace of his uncle Pelias.
And when he came in Pelias sat by the hearth, crippled and blind with
age; while opposite him sat Æson, Jason’s father, crippled
and blind likewise; and the two old men’s heads shook together
as they tried to warm themselves before the fire.
And Jason fell down at his father’s knees, and wept, and called
him by his name. And the old man stretched his hands out, and
felt him, and said, ‘Do not mock me, young hero. My son
Jason is dead long ago at sea.’
‘I am your own son Jason, whom you trusted to the Centaur upon
Pelion; and I have brought home the golden fleece, and a princess of
the Sun’s race for my bride. So now give me up the kingdom,
Pelias my uncle, and fulfil your promise as I have fulfilled mine.’
Then his father clung to him like a child, and wept, and would not let
him go; and cried, ‘Now I shall not go down lonely to my grave.
Promise me never to leave me till I die.’
PART VI - WHAT WAS THE END OF THE HEROES
And now I wish that I could end my story pleasantly; but it is no fault
of mine that I cannot. The old songs end it sadly, and I believe
that they are right and wise; for though the heroes were purified at
Malea, yet sacrifices cannot make bad hearts good, and Jason had taken
a wicked wife, and he had to bear his burden to the last.
And first she laid a cunning plot to punish that poor old Pelias, instead
of letting him die in peace.
For she told his daughters, ‘I can make old things young again;
I will show you how easy it is to do.’ So she took an old
ram and killed him, and put him in a cauldron with magic herbs; and
whispered her spells over him, and he leapt out again a young lamb.
So that ‘Medeia’s cauldron’ is a proverb still, by
which we mean times of war and change, when the world has become old
and feeble, and grows young again through bitter pains.
Then she said to Pelias’ daughters, ‘Do to your father as
I did to this ram, and he will grow young and strong again.’
But she only told them half the spell; so they failed, while Medeia
mocked them; and poor old Pelias died, and his daughters came to misery.
But the songs say she cured Æson, Jason’s father, and he
became young, and strong again.
But Jason could not love her, after all her cruel deeds. So he
was ungrateful to her, and wronged her; and she revenged herself on
him. And a terrible revenge she took - too terrible to speak of
here. But you will hear of it yourselves when you grow up, for
it has been sung in noble poetry and music; and whether it be true or
not, it stands for ever as a warning to us not to seek for help from
evil persons, or to gain good ends by evil means. For if we use
an adder even against our enemies, it will turn again and sting us.
But of all the other heroes there is many a brave tale left, which I
have no space to tell you, so you must read them for yourselves; - of
the hunting of the boar in Calydon, which Meleager killed; and of Heracles’
twelve famous labours; and of the seven who fought at Thebes; and of
the noble love of Castor and Polydeuces, the twin Dioscouroi - how when
one died the other would not live without him, so they shared their
immortality between them; and Zeus changed them into the two twin stars
which never rise both at once.
And what became of Cheiron, the good immortal beast? That, too,
is a sad story; for the heroes never saw him more. He was wounded
by a poisoned arrow, at Pholoe among the hills, when Heracles opened
the fatal wine-jar, which Cheiron had warned him not to touch.
And the Centaurs smelt the wine, and flocked to it, and fought for it
with Heracles; but he killed them all with his poisoned arrows, and
Cheiron was left alone. Then Cheiron took up one of the arrows,
and dropped it by chance upon his foot; and the poison ran like fire
along his veins, and he lay down and longed to die; and cried, ‘Through
wine I perish, the bane of all my race. Why should I live for
ever in this agony? Who will take my immortality, that I may die?’
Then Prometheus answered, the good Titan, whom Heracles had set free
from Caucasus, ‘I will take your immortality and live for ever,
that I may help poor mortal men.’ So Cheiron gave him his
immortality, and died, and had rest from pain. And Heracles and
Prometheus wept over him, and went to bury him on Pelion; but Zeus took
him up among the stars, to live for ever, grand and mild, low down in
the far southern sky.
And in time the heroes died, all but Nestor, the silver-tongued old
man; and left behind them valiant sons, but not so great as they had
been. Yet their fame, too, lives till this day, for they fought
at the ten years’ siege of Troy: and their story is in the book
which we call Homer, in two of the noblest songs on earth - the ‘Iliad,’
which tells us of the siege of Troy, and Achilles’ quarrel with
the kings; and the ‘Odyssey,’ which tells the wanderings
of Odysseus, through many lands for many years, and how Alcinous sent
him home at last, safe to Ithaca his beloved island, and to Penelope
his faithful wife, and Telemachus his son, and Euphorbus the noble swineherd,
and the old dog who licked his hand and died. We will read that
sweet story, children, by the fire some winter night. And now
I will end my tale, and begin another and a more cheerful one, of a
hero who became a worthy king, and won his people’s love.
STORY III. - THESEUS
PART I - HOW THESEUS LIFTED THE STONE
Once upon a time there was a princess in Troezene, Aithra, the daughter
of Pittheus the king. She had one fair son, named Theseus, the
bravest lad in all the land; and Aithra never smiled but when she looked
at him, for her husband had forgotten her, and lived far away.
And she used to go up to the mountain above Troezene, to the temple
of Poseidon and sit there all day looking out across the bay, over Methana,
to the purple peaks of Ægina and the Attic shore beyond.
And when Theseus was full fifteen years old she took him up with her
to the temple, and into the thickets of the grove which grew in the
temple-yard. And she led him to a tall plane-tree, beneath whose
shade grew arbutus, and lentisk, and purple heather-bushes. And
there she sighed, and said, ‘Theseus, my son, go into that thicket
and you will find at the plane-tree foot a great flat stone; lift it,
and bring me what lies underneath.’
Then Theseus pushed his way in through the thick bushes, and saw that
they had not been moved for many a year. And searching among their
roots he found a great flat stone, all overgrown with ivy, and acanthus,
and moss. He tried to lift it, but he could not. And he
tried till the sweat ran down his brow from heat, and the tears from
his eyes for shame; but all was of no avail. And at last he came
back to his mother, and said, ‘I have found the stone, but I cannot
lift it; nor do I think that any man could in all Troezene.’
Then she sighed, and said, ‘The Gods wait long; but they are just
at last. Let it be for another year. The day may come when
you will be a stronger man than lives in all Troezene.’
Then she took him by the hand, and went into the temple and prayed,
and came down again with Theseus to her home.
And when a full year was past she led Theseus up again to the temple,
and bade him lift the stone; but he could not.
Then she sighed, and said the same words again, and went down, and came
again the next year; but Theseus could not lift the stone then, nor
the year after; and he longed to ask his mother the meaning of that
stone, and what might lie underneath it; but her face was so sad that
he had not the heart to ask.
So he said to himself, ‘The day shall surely come when I will
lift that stone, though no man in Troezene can.’ And in
order to grow strong he spent all his days in wrestling, and boxing,
and hurling, and taming horses, and hunting the boar and the bull, and
coursing goats and deer among the rocks; till upon all the mountains
there was no hunter so swift as Theseus; and he killed Phaia the wild
sow of Crommyon, which wasted all the land; till all the people said,
‘Surely the Gods are with the lad.’
And when his eighteenth year was past, Aithra led him up again to the
temple, and said, ‘Theseus, lift the stone this day, or never
know who you are.’ And Theseus went into the thicket, and
stood over the stone, and tugged at it; and it moved. Then his
spirit swelled within him, and he said, ‘If I break my heart in
my body, it shall up.’ And he tugged at it once more, and
lifted it, and rolled it over with a shout.
And when he looked beneath it, on the ground lay a sword of bronze,
with a hilt of glittering gold, and by it a pair of golden sandals;
and he caught them up, and burst through the bushes like a wild boar,
and leapt to his mother, holding them high above his head.
But when she saw them she wept long in silence, hiding her fair face
in her shawl; and Theseus stood by her wondering, and wept also, he
knew not why. And when she was tired of weeping, she lifted up
her head, and laid her finger on her lips, and said, ‘Hide them
in your bosom, Theseus my son, and come with me where we can look down
upon the sea.’
Then they went outside the sacred wall, and looked down over the bright
blue sea; and Aithra said -
‘Do you see this land at our feet?’
And he said, ‘Yes; this is Troezene, where I was born and bred.’
And she said, ‘It is but a little land, barren and rocky, and
looks towards the bleak north-east. Do you see that land beyond?’
‘Yes; that is Attica, where the Athenian people dwell.’
‘That is a fair land and large, Theseus my son; and it looks toward
the sunny south; a land of olive-oil and honey, the joy of Gods and
men. For the Gods have girdled it with mountains, whose veins
are of pure silver, and their bones of marble white as snow; and there
the hills are sweet with thyme and basil, and the meadows with violet
and asphodel, and the nightingales sing all day in the thickets, by
the side of ever-flowing streams. There are twelve towns well
peopled, the homes of an ancient race, the children of Kekrops the serpent
king, the son of Mother Earth, who wear gold cicalas among the tresses
of their golden hair; for like the cicalas they sprang from the earth,
and like the cicalas they sing all day, rejoicing in the genial sun.
What would you do, son Theseus, if you were king of such a land?’
Then Theseus stood astonished, as he looked across the broad bright
sea, and saw the fair Attic shore, from Sunium to Hymettus and Pentelicus,
and all the mountain peaks which girdle Athens round. But Athens
itself he could not see, for purple Ægina stood before it, midway
across the sea.
Then his heart grew great within him, and he said, ‘If I were
king of such a land I would rule it wisely and well in wisdom and in
might, that when I died all men might weep over my tomb, and cry, “Alas
for the shepherd of his people!”’
And Aithra smiled, and said, ‘Take, then, the sword and the sandals,
and go to Ægeus, king of Athens, who lives on Pallas’ hill;
and say to him, “The stone is lifted, but whose is the pledge
beneath it?” Then show him the sword and the sandals, and
take what the Gods shall send.’
But Theseus wept, ‘Shall I leave you, O my mother?’
But she answered, ‘Weep not for me. That which is fated
must be; and grief is easy to those who do nought but grieve.
Full of sorrow was my youth, and full of sorrow my womanhood.
Full of sorrow was my youth for Bellerophon, the slayer of the Chimaera,
whom my father drove away by treason; and full of sorrow my womanhood,
for thy treacherous father and for thee; and full of sorrow my old age
will be (for I see my fate in dreams), when the sons of the Swan shall
carry me captive to the hollow vale of Eurotas, till I sail across the
seas a slave, the handmaid of the pest of Greece. Yet shall I
be avenged, when the golden-haired heroes sail against Troy, and sack
the palaces of Ilium; then my son shall set me free from thraldom, and
I shall hear the tale of Theseus’ fame. Yet beyond that
I see new sorrows; but I can bear them as I have borne the past.’
Then she kissed Theseus, and wept over him; and went into the temple,
and Theseus saw her no more.
PART II - HOW THESEUS SLEW THE DEVOURERS OF MEN
So Theseus stood there alone, with his mind full of many hopes.
And first he thought of going down to the harbour and hiring a swift
ship, and sailing across the bay to Athens; but even that seemed too
slow for him, and he longed for wings to fly across the sea, and find
his father. But after a while his heart began to fail him; and
he sighed, and said within himself -
‘What if my father have other sons about him whom he loves?
What if he will not receive me? And what have I done that he should
receive me? He has forgotten me ever since I was born: why should
he welcome me now?’
Then he thought a long while sadly; and at the last he cried aloud,
‘Yes! I will make him love me; for I will prove myself worthy
of his love. I will win honour and renown, and do such deeds that
Ægeus shall be proud of me, though he had fifty other sons!
Did not Heracles win himself honour, though he was opprest, and the
slave of Eurystheus? Did he not kill all robbers and evil beasts,
and drain great lakes and marshes, breaking the hills through with his
club? Therefore it was that all men honoured him, because he rid
them of their miseries, and made life pleasant to them and their children
after them. Where can I go, to do as Heracles has done?
Where can I find strange adventures, robbers, and monsters, and the
children of hell, the enemies of men? I will go by land, and into
the mountains, and round by the way of the Isthmus. Perhaps there
I may hear of brave adventures, and do something which shall win my
father’s love.’
So he went by land, and away into the mountains, with his father’s
sword upon his thigh, till he came to the Spider mountains, which hang
over Epidaurus and the sea, where the glens run downward from one peak
in the midst, as the rays spread in the spider’s web.
And he went up into the gloomy glens, between the furrowed marble walls,
till the lowland grew blue beneath his feet and the clouds drove damp
about his head.
But he went up and up for ever, through the spider’s web of glens,
till he could see the narrow gulfs spread below him, north and south,
and east and west; black cracks half-choked with mists, and above all
a dreary down.
But over that down he must go, for there was no road right or left;
so he toiled on through bog and brake, till he came to a pile of stones.
And on the stones a man was sitting, wrapt in a bearskin cloak.
The head of the bear served him for a cap, and its teeth grinned white
around his brows; and the feet were tied about his throat, and their
claws shone white upon his chest. And when he saw Theseus he rose,
and laughed till the glens rattled.
‘And who art thou, fair fly, who hast walked into the spider’s
web?’ But Theseus walked on steadily, and made no answer;
but he thought, ‘Is this some robber? and has an adventure come
already to me?’ But the strange man laughed louder than
ever, and said -
‘Bold fly, know you not that these glens are the web from which
no fly ever finds his way out again, and this down the spider’s
house, and I the spider who sucks the flies? Come hither, and
let me feast upon you; for it is of no use to run away, so cunning a
web has my father Hephaistos spread for me when he made these clefts
in the mountains, through which no man finds his way home.’
But Theseus came on steadily, and asked -
‘And what is your name among men, bold spider? and where are your
spider’s fangs?’
Then the strange man laughed again -
‘My name is Periphetes, the son of Hephaistos and Anticleia the
mountain nymph. But men call me Corynetes the club-bearer; and
here is my spider’s fang.’
And he lifted from off the stones at his side a mighty club of bronze.
‘This my father gave me, and forged it himself in the roots of
the mountain; and with it I pound all proud flies till they give out
their fatness and their sweetness. So give me up that gay sword
of yours, and your mantle, and your golden sandals, lest I pound you,
and by ill-luck you die.’
But Theseus wrapt his mantle round his left arm quickly, in hard folds,
from his shoulder to his hand, and drew his sword, and rushed upon the
club-bearer, and the club-bearer rushed on him.
Thrice he struck at Theseus, and made him bend under the blows like
a sapling; but Theseus guarded his head with his left arm, and the mantle
which was wrapt around it.
And thrice Theseus sprang upright after the blow, like a sapling when
the storm is past; and he stabbed at the club-bearer with his sword,
but the loose folds of the bearskin saved him.
Then Theseus grew mad, and closed with him, and caught him by the throat,
and they fell and rolled over together; but when Theseus rose up from
the ground the club-bearer lay still at his feet.
Then Theseus took his club and his bearskin, and left him to the kites
and crows, and went upon his journey down the glens on the farther slope,
till he came to a broad green valley, and saw flocks and herds sleeping
beneath the trees.
And by the side of a pleasant fountain, under the shade of rocks and
trees, were nymphs and shepherds dancing; but no one piped to them while
they danced.
And when they saw Theseus they shrieked; and the shepherds ran off,
and drove away their flocks, while the nymphs dived into the fountain
like coots, and vanished.
Theseus wondered and laughed: ‘What strange fancies have folks
here who run away from strangers, and have no music when they dance!’
But he was tired, and dusty, and thirsty; so he thought no more of them,
but drank and bathed in the clear pool, and then lay down in the shade
under a plane-tree, while the water sang him to sleep, as it tinkled
down from stone to stone.
And when he woke he heard a whispering, and saw the nymphs peeping at
him across the fountain from the dark mouth of a cave, where they sat
on green cushions of moss. And one said, ‘Surely he is not
Periphetes;’ and another, ‘He looks like no robber, but
a fair and gentle youth.’
Then Theseus smiled, and called them, ‘Fair nymphs, I am not Periphetes.
He sleeps among the kites and crows; but I have brought away his bearskin
and his club.’
Then they leapt across the pool, and came to him, and called the shepherds
back. And he told them how he had slain the club-bearer: and the
shepherds kissed his feet and sang, ‘Now we shall feed our flocks
in peace, and not be afraid to have music when we dance; for the cruel
club-bearer has met his match, and he will listen for our pipes no more.’
Then they brought him kid’s flesh and wine, and the nymphs brought
him honey from the rocks, and he ate, and drank, and slept again, while
the nymphs and shepherds danced and sang. And when he woke, they
begged him to stay; but he would not. ‘I have a great work
to do,’ he said; ‘I must be away toward the Isthmus, that
I may go to Athens.’
But the shepherds said, ‘Will you go alone toward Athens?
None travel that way now, except in armed troops.’
‘As for arms, I have enough, as you see. And as for troops,
an honest man is good enough company for himself. Why should I
not go alone toward Athens?’
‘If you do, you must look warily about you on the Isthmus, lest
you meet Sinis the robber, whom men call Pituocamptes the pine-bender;
for he bends down two pine-trees, and binds all travellers hand and
foot between them, and when he lets the trees go again their bodies
are torn in sunder.’
‘And after that,’ said another, ‘you must go inland,
and not dare to pass over the cliffs of Sciron; for on the left hand
are the mountains, and on the right the sea, so that you have no escape,
but must needs meet Sciron the robber, who will make you wash his feet;
and while you are washing them he will kick you over the cliff, to the
tortoise who lives below, and feeds upon the bodies of the dead.’
And before Theseus could answer, another cried, ‘And after that
is a worse danger still, unless you go inland always, and leave Eleusis
far on your right. For in Eleusis rules Kerkuon the cruel king,
the terror of all mortals, who killed his own daughter Alope in prison.
But she was changed into a fair fountain; and her child he cast out
upon the mountains, but the wild mares gave it milk. And now he
challenges all comers to wrestle with him, for he is the best wrestler
in all Attica, and overthrows all who come; and those whom he overthrows
he murders miserably, and his palace-court is full of their bones.’
Then Theseus frowned, and said, ‘This seems indeed an ill-ruled
land, and adventures enough in it to be tried. But if I am the
heir of it, I will rule it and right it, and here is my royal sceptre.’
And he shook his club of bronze, while the nymphs and shepherds clung
round him, and entreated him not to go.
But on he went nevertheless, till he could see both the seas and the
citadel of Corinth towering high above all the land. And he past
swiftly along the Isthmus, for his heart burned to meet that cruel Sinis;
and in a pine-wood at last he met him, where the Isthmus was narrowest
and the road ran between high rocks. There he sat upon a stone
by the wayside, with a young fir-tree for a club across his knees, and
a cord laid ready by his side; and over his head, upon the fir-tops,
hung the bones of murdered men.
Then Theseus shouted to him, ‘Holla, thou valiant pine-bender,
hast thou two fir-trees left for me?’
And Sinis leapt to his feet, and answered, pointing to the bones above
his head, ‘My larder has grown empty lately, so I have two fir-trees
ready for thee.’ And he rushed on Theseus, lifting his club,
and Theseus rushed upon him.
Then they hammered together till the greenwoods rang; but the metal
was tougher than the pine, and Sinis’ club broke right across,
as the bronze came down upon it. Then Theseus heaved up another
mighty stroke, and smote Sinis down upon his face; and knelt upon his
back, and bound him with his own cord, and said, ‘As thou hast
done to others, so shall it be done to thee.’ Then he bent
down two young fir-trees, and bound Sinis between them for all his struggling
and his prayers; and let them go, and ended Sinis, and went on, leaving
him to the hawks and crows.
Then he went over the hills toward Megara, keeping close along the Saronic
Sea, till he came to the cliffs of Sciron, and the narrow path between
the mountain and the sea.
And there he saw Sciron sitting by a fountain, at the edge of the cliff.
On his knees was a mighty club; and he had barred the path with stones,
so that every one must stop who came up.
Then Theseus shouted to him, and said, ‘Holla, thou tortoise-feeder,
do thy feet need washing to-day?’
And Sciron leapt to his feet, and answered - ‘My tortoise is empty
and hungry, and my feet need washing to-day.’ And he stood
before his barrier, and lifted up his club in both hands.
Then Theseus rushed upon him; and sore was the battle upon the cliff,
for when Sciron felt the weight of the bronze club, he dropt his own,
and closed with Theseus, and tried to hurl him by main force over the
cliff. But Theseus was a wary wrestler, and dropt his own club,
and caught him by the throat and by the knee, and forced him back against
the wall of stones, and crushed him up against them, till his breath
was almost gone. And Sciron cried panting, ‘Loose me, and
I will let thee pass.’ But Theseus answered, ‘I must
not pass till I have made the rough way smooth;’ and he forced
him back against the wall till it fell, and Sciron rolled head over
heels.
Then Theseus lifted him up all bruised, and said, ‘Come hither
and wash my feet.’ And he drew his sword, and sat down by
the well, and said, ‘Wash my feet, or I cut you piecemeal.’
And Sciron washed his feet trembling; and when it was done, Theseus
rose, and cried, ‘As thou hast done to others, so shall it be
done to thee. Go feed thy tortoise thyself;’ and he kicked
him over the cliff into the sea.
And whether the tortoise ate him, I know not; for some say that earth
and sea both disdained to take his body, so foul it was with sin.
So the sea cast it out upon the shore, and the shore cast it back into
the sea, and at last the waves hurled it high into the air in anger;
and it hung there long without a grave, till it was changed into a desolate
rock, which stands there in the surge until this day.
This at least is true, which Pausanias tells, that in the royal porch
at Athens he saw the figure of Theseus modelled in clay, and by him
Sciron the robber falling headlong into the sea.
Then he went a long day’s journey, past Megara, into the Attic
land, and high before him rose the snow-peaks of Cithaeron, all cold
above the black pine-woods, where haunt the Furies, and the raving Bacchae,
and the Nymphs who drive men wild, far aloft upon the dreary mountains,
where the storms howl all day long. And on his right hand was
the sea always, and Salamis, with its island cliffs, and the sacred
strait of the sea-fight, where afterwards the Persians fled before the
Greeks. So he went all day until the evening, till he saw the
Thriasian plain, and the sacred city of Eleusis, where the Earth-mother’s
temple stands. For there she met Triptolemus, when all the land
lay waste, Demeter the kind Earth-mother, and in her hands a sheaf of
corn. And she taught him to plough the fallows, and to yoke the
lazy kine; and she taught him to sow the seed-fields, and to reap the
golden grain; and sent him forth to teach all nations, and give corn
to labouring men. So at Eleusis all men honour her, whosoever
tills the land; her and Triptolemus her beloved, who gave corn to labouring
men.
And he went along the plain into Eleusis, and stood in the market-place,
and cried -
‘Where is Kerkuon, the king of the city? I must wrestle
a fall with him to-day.’
Then all the people crowded round him, and cried, ‘Fair youth,
why will you die? Hasten out of the city, before the cruel king
hears that a stranger is here.’
But Theseus went up through the town, while the people wept and prayed,
and through the gates of the palace-yard, and through the piles of bones
and skulls, till he came to the door of Kerkuon’s hall, the terror
of all mortal men.
And there he saw Kerkuon sitting at the table in the hall alone; and
before him was a whole sheep roasted, and beside him a whole jar of
wine. And Theseus stood and called him, ‘Holla, thou valiant
wrestler, wilt thou wrestle a fall to-day?’
And Kerkuon looked up and laughed, and answered, ‘I will wrestle
a fall to-day; but come in, for I am lonely and thou weary, and eat
and drink before thou die.’
Then Theseus went up boldly, and sat down before Kerkuon at the board;
and he ate his fill of the sheep’s flesh, and drank his fill of
the wine; and Theseus ate enough for three men, but Kerkuon ate enough
for seven.
But neither spoke a word to the other, though they looked across the
table by stealth; and each said in his heart, ‘He has broad shoulders;
but I trust mine are as broad as his.’
At last, when the sheep was eaten and the jar of wine drained dry, King
Kerkuon rose, and cried, ‘Let us wrestle a fall before we sleep.’
So they tossed off all their garments, and went forth in the palace-yard;
and Kerkuon bade strew fresh sand in an open space between the bones.
And there the heroes stood face to face, while their eyes glared like
wild bulls’; and all the people crowded at the gates to see what
would befall.
And there they stood and wrestled, till the stars shone out above their
heads; up and down and round, till the sand was stamped hard beneath
their feet. And their eyes flashed like stars in the darkness,
and their breath went up like smoke in the night air; but neither took
nor gave a footstep, and the people watched silent at the gates.
But at last Kerkuon grew angry, and caught Theseus round the neck, and
shook him as a mastiff shakes a rat; but he could not shake him off
his feet.
But Theseus was quick and wary, and clasped Kerkuon round the waist,
and slipped his loin quickly underneath him, while he caught him by
the wrist; and then he hove a mighty heave, a heave which would have
stirred an oak, and lifted Kerkuon, and pitched him right over his shoulder
on the ground.
Then he leapt on him, and called, ‘Yield, or I kill thee!’
but Kerkuon said no word; for his heart was burst within him with the
fall, and the meat, and the wine.
Then Theseus opened the gates, and called in all the people; and they
cried, ‘You have slain our evil king; be you now our king, and
rule us well.’
‘I will be your king in Eleusis, and I will rule you right and
well; for this cause I have slain all evil-doers - Sinis, and Sciron,
and this man last of all.’
Then an aged man stepped forth, and said, ‘Young hero, hast thou
slain Sinis? Beware then of Ægeus, king of Athens, to whom
thou goest, for he is near of kin to Sinis.’
‘Then I have slain my own kinsman,’ said Theseus, ‘though
well he deserved to die. Who will purge me from his death, for
rightfully I slew him, unrighteous and accursed as he was?’
And the old man answered -
‘That will the heroes do, the sons of Phytalus, who dwell beneath
the elm-tree in Aphidnai, by the bank of silver Cephisus; for they know
the mysteries of the Gods. Thither you shall go and be purified,
and after you shall be our king.’
So he took an oath of the people of Eleusis, that they would serve him
as their king, and went away next morning across the Thriasian plain,
and over the hills toward Aphidnai, that he might find the sons of Phytalus.
And as he was skirting the Vale of Cephisus, along the foot of lofty
Parnes, a very tall and strong man came down to meet him, dressed in
rich garments. On his arms were golden bracelets, and round his
neck a collar of jewels; and he came forward, bowing courteously, and
held out both his hands, and spoke -
‘Welcome, fair youth, to these mountains; happy am I to have met
you! For what greater pleasure to a good man, than to entertain
strangers? But I see that you are weary. Come up to my castle,
and rest yourself awhile.’
‘I give you thanks,’ said Theseus: ‘but I am in haste
to go up the valley, and to reach Aphidnai in the Vale of Cephisus.’
‘Alas! you have wandered far from the right way, and you cannot
reach Aphidnai to-night, for there are many miles of mountain between
you and it, and steep passes, and cliffs dangerous after nightfall.
It is well for you that I met you, for my whole joy is to find strangers,
and to feast them at my castle, and hear tales from them of foreign
lands. Come up with me, and eat the best of venison, and drink
the rich red wine, and sleep upon my famous bed, of which all travellers
say that they never saw the like. For whatsoever the stature of
my guest, however tall or short, that bed fits him to a hair, and he
sleeps on it as he never slept before.’ And he laid hold
on Theseus’ hands, and would not let him go.
Theseus wished to go forwards: but he was ashamed to seem churlish to
so hospitable a man; and he was curious to see that wondrous bed; and
beside, he was hungry and weary: yet he shrank from the man, he knew
not why; for, though his voice was gentle and fawning, it was dry and
husky like a toad’s; and though his eyes were gentle, they were
dull and cold like stones. But he consented, and went with the
man up a glen which led from the road toward the peaks of Parnes, under
the dark shadow of the cliffs.
And as they went up, the glen grew narrower, and the cliffs higher and
darker, and beneath them a torrent roared, half seen between bare limestone
crags. And around there was neither tree nor bush, while from
the white peaks of Parnes the snow-blasts swept down the glen, cutting
and chilling till a horror fell on Theseus as he looked round at that
doleful place. And he asked at last, ‘Your castle stands,
it seems, in a dreary region.’
‘Yes; but once within it, hospitality makes all things cheerful.
But who are these?’ and he looked back, and Theseus also; and
far below, along the road which they had left, came a string of laden
asses, and merchants walking by them, watching their ware.
‘Ah, poor souls!’ said the stranger. ‘Well for
them that I looked back and saw them! And well for me too, for
I shall have the more guests at my feast. Wait awhile till I go
down and call them, and we will eat and drink together the livelong
night. Happy am I, to whom Heaven sends so many guests at once!’
And he ran back down the hill, waving his hand and shouting, to the
merchants, while Theseus went slowly up the steep pass.
But as he went up he met an aged man, who had been gathering drift-wood
in the torrent-bed. He had laid down his faggot in the road, and
was trying to lift it again to his shoulder. And when he saw Theseus,
he called to him, and said -
‘O fair youth, help me up with my burden, for my limbs are stiff
and weak with years.’
Then Theseus lifted the burden on his back. And the old man blest
him, and then looked earnestly upon him, and said -
‘Who are you, fair youth, and wherefore travel you this doleful
road?’
‘Who I am my parents know; but I travel this doleful road because
I have been invited by a hospitable man, who promises to feast me, and
to make me sleep upon I know not what wondrous bed.’
Then the old man clapped his hands together and cried -
‘O house of Hades, man-devouring! will thy maw never be full?
Know, fair youth, that you are going to torment and to death, for he
who met you (I will requite your kindness by another) is a robber and
a murderer of men. Whatsoever stranger he meets he entices him
hither to death; and as for this bed of which he speaks, truly it fits
all comers, yet none ever rose alive off it save me.’
‘Why?’ asked Theseus, astonished.
‘Because, if a man be too tall for it, he lops his limbs till
they be short enough, and if he be too short, he stretches his limbs
till they be long enough: but me only he spared, seven weary years agone;
for I alone of all fitted his bed exactly, so he spared me, and made
me his slave. And once I was a wealthy merchant, and dwelt in
brazen-gated Thebes; but now I hew wood and draw water for him, the
torment of all mortal men.’
Then Theseus said nothing; but he ground his teeth together.
‘Escape, then,’ said the old man, ‘for he will have
no pity on thy youth. But yesterday he brought up hither a young
man and a maiden, and fitted them upon his bed; and the young man’s
hands and feet he cut off, but the maiden’s limbs he stretched
until she died, and so both perished miserably - but I am tired of weeping
over the slain. And therefore he is called Procrustes the stretcher,
though his father called him Damastes. Flee from him: yet whither
will you flee? The cliffs are steep, and who can climb them? and
there is no other road.’
But Theseus laid his hand upon the old man’s month, and said,
‘There is no need to flee;’ and he turned to go down the
pass.
‘Do not tell him that I have warned you, or he will kill me by
some evil death;’ and the old man screamed after him down the
glen; but Theseus strode on in his wrath.
And he said to himself, ‘This is an ill-ruled land; when shall
I have done ridding it of monsters?’ And as he spoke, Procrustes
came up the hill, and all the merchants with him, smiling and talking
gaily. And when he saw Theseus, he cried, ‘Ah, fair young
guest, have I kept you too long waiting?’
But Theseus answered, ‘The man who stretches his guests upon a
bed and hews off their hands and feet, what shall be done to him, when
right is done throughout the land?’
Then Procrustes’ countenance changed, and his cheeks grew as green
as a lizard, and he felt for his sword in haste; but Theseus leapt on
him, and cried -
‘Is this true, my host, or is it false?’ and he clasped
Procrustes round waist and elbow, so that he could not draw his sword.
‘Is this true, my host, or is it false?’ But Procrustes
answered never a word.
Then Theseus flung him from him, and lifted up his dreadful club; and
before Procrustes could strike him he had struck, and felled him to
the ground.
And once again he struck him; and his evil soul fled forth, and went
down to Hades squeaking, like a bat into the darkness of a cave.
Then Theseus stript him of his gold ornaments, and went up to his house,
and found there great wealth and treasure, which he had stolen from
the passers-by. And he called the people of the country, whom
Procrustes had spoiled a long time, and parted the spoil among them,
and went down the mountains, and away.
And he went down the glens of Parnes, through mist, and cloud, and rain,
down the slopes of oak, and lentisk, and arbutus, and fragrant bay,
till he came to the Vale of Cephisus, and the pleasant town of Aphidnai,
and the home of the Phytalid heroes, where they dwelt beneath a mighty
elm.
And there they built an altar, and bade him bathe in Cephisus, and offer
a yearling ram, and purified him from the blood of Sinis, and sent him
away in peace.
And he went down the valley by Acharnai, and by the silver-swirling
stream, while all the people blessed him, for the fame of his prowess
had spread wide, till he saw the plain of Athens, and the hill where
Athené dwells.
So Theseus went up through Athens, and all the people ran out to see
him; for his fame had gone before him and every one knew of his mighty
deeds. And all cried, ‘Here comes the hero who slew Sinis,
and Phaia the wild sow of Crommyon, and conquered Kerkuon in wrestling,
and slew Procrustes the pitiless.’ But Theseus went on sadly
and steadfastly, for his heart yearned after his father; and he said,
‘How shall I deliver him from these leeches who suck his blood?’
So he went up the holy stairs, and into the Acropolis, where Ægeus’
palace stood; and he went straight into Ægeus’ hall, and
stood upon the threshold, and looked round.
And there he saw his cousins sitting about the table at the wine: many
a son of Pallas, but no Ægeus among them. There they sat
and feasted, and laughed, and passed the wine-cup round; while harpers
harped, and slave-girls sang, and the tumblers showed their tricks.
Loud laughed the sons of Pallas, and fast went the wine-cup round; but
Theseus frowned, and said under his breath, ‘No wonder that the
land is full of robbers, while such as these bear rule.’
Then the Pallantids saw him, and called to him, half-drunk with wine,
‘Holla, tall stranger at the door, what is your will to-day?’
‘I come hither to ask for hospitality.’
‘Then take it, and welcome. You look like a hero and a bold
warrior; and we like such to drink with us.’
‘I ask no hospitality of you; I ask it of Ægeus the king,
the master of this house.’
At that some growled, and some laughed, and shouted, ‘Heyday!
we are all masters here.’
‘Then I am master as much as the rest of you,’ said Theseus,
and he strode past the table up the hall, and looked around for Ægeus;
but he was nowhere to be seen.
The Pallantids looked at him, and then at each other, and each whispered
to the man next him, ‘This is a forward fellow; he ought to be
thrust out at the door.’ But each man’s neighbour
whispered in return, ‘His shoulders are broad; will you rise and
put him out?’ So they all sat still where they were.
Then Theseus called to the servants, and said, ‘Go tell King Ægeus,
your master, that Theseus of Troezene is here, and asks to be his guest
awhile.’
A servant ran and told Ægeus, where he sat in his chamber within,
by Medeia the dark witch-woman, watching her eye and hand. And
when Ægeus heard of Troezene he turned pale and red again, and
rose from his seat trembling, while Medeia watched him like a snake.
‘What is Troezene to you?’ she asked. But he said
hastily, ‘Do you not know who this Theseus is? The hero
who has cleared the country from all monsters; but that he came from
Troezene, I never heard before. I must go out and welcome him.’
So Ægeus came out into the hall; and when Theseus saw him, his
heart leapt into his mouth, and he longed to fall on his neck and welcome
him; but he controlled himself, and said, ‘My father may not wish
for me, after all. I will try him before I discover myself;’
and he bowed low before Ægeus, and said, ‘I have delivered
the king’s realm from many monsters; therefore I am come to ask
a reward of the king.’
And old Ægeus looked on him, and loved him, as what fond heart
would not have done? But he only sighed, and said -
‘It is little that I can give you, noble lad, and nothing that
is worthy of you; for surely you are no mortal man, or at least no mortal’s
son.’
‘All I ask,’ said Theseus, ‘is to eat and drink at
your table.’
‘That I can give you,’ said Ægeus, ‘if at least
I am master in my own hall.’
Then he bade them put a seat for Theseus, and set before him the best
of the feast; and Theseus sat and ate so much, that all the company
wondered at him: but always he kept his club by his side.
But Medeia the dark witch-woman had been watching him all the while.
She saw how Ægeus turned red and pale when the lad said that he
came from Troezene. She saw, too, how his heart was opened toward
Theseus; and how Theseus bore himself before all the sons of Pallas,
like a lion among a pack of curs. And she said to herself, ‘This
youth will be master here; perhaps he is nearer to Ægeus already
than mere fancy. At least the Pallantilds will have no chance
by the side of such as he.’
Then she went back into her chamber modestly, while Theseus ate and
drank; and all the servants whispered, ‘This, then, is the man
who killed the monsters! How noble are his looks, and how huge
his size! Ah, would that he were our master’s son!’
But presently Medeia came forth, decked in all her jewels, and her rich
Eastern robes, and looking more beautiful than the day, so that all
the guests could look at nothing else. And in her right hand she
held a golden cup, and in her left a flask of gold; and she came up
to Theseus, and spoke in a sweet, soft, winning voice -
‘Hail to the hero, the conqueror, the unconquered, the destroyer
of all evil things! Drink, hero, of my charmed cup, which gives
rest after every toil, which heals all wounds, and pours new life into
the veins. Drink of my cup, for in it sparkles the wine of the
East, and Nepenthe, the comfort of the Immortals.’
And as she spoke, she poured the flask into the cup; and the fragrance
of the wine spread through the hall, like the scent of thyme and roses.
And Theseus looked up in her fair face and into her deep dark eyes.
And as he looked, he shrank and shuddered; for they were dry like the
eyes of a snake. And he rose, and said, ‘The wine is rich
and fragrant, and the wine-bearer as fair as the Immortals; but let
her pledge me first herself in the cup, that the wine may be the sweeter
from her lips.’
Then Medeia turned pale, and stammered, ‘Forgive me, fair hero;
but I am ill, and dare drink no wine.’
And Theseus looked again into her eyes, and cried, ‘Thou shalt
pledge me in that cup, or die.’ And he lifted up his brazen
club, while all the guests looked on aghast.
Medeia shrieked a fearful shriek, and dashed the cup to the ground,
and fled; and where the wine flowed over the marble pavement, the stone
bubbled, and crumbled, and hissed, under the fierce venom of the draught.
But Medeia called her dragon chariot, and sprang into it and fled aloft,
away over land and sea, and no man saw her more.
And Ægeus cried, ‘What hast thou done?’ But
Theseus pointed to the stone, ‘I have rid the land of an enchantment:
now I will rid it of one more.’
And he came close to Ægeus, and drew from his bosom the sword
and the sandals, and said the words which his mother bade him.
And Ægeus stepped back a pace, and looked at the lad till his
eyes grew dim; and then he cast himself on his neck and wept, and Theseus
wept on his neck, till they had no strength left to weep more.
Then Ægeus turned to all the people, and cried, ‘Behold
my son, children of Cecrops, a better man than his father was before
him.’
Who, then, were mad but the Pallantids, though they had been mad enough
before? And one shouted, ‘Shall we make room for an upstart,
a pretender, who comes from we know not where?’ And another,
‘If he be one, we are more than one; and the stronger can hold
his own.’ And one shouted one thing, and one another; for
they were hot and wild with wine: but all caught swords and lances off
the wall, where the weapons hung around, and sprang forward to Theseus,
and Theseus sprang forward to them.
And he cried, ‘Go in peace, if you will, my cousins; but if not,
your blood be on your own heads.’ But they rushed at him;
and then stopped short and railed him, as curs stop and bark when they
rouse a lion from his lair.
But one hurled a lance from the rear rank, which past close by Theseus’
head; and at that Theseus rushed forward, and the fight began indeed.
Twenty against one they fought, and yet Theseus beat them all; and those
who were left fled down into the town, where the people set on them,
and drove them out, till Theseus was left alone in the palace, with
Ægeus his new-found father. But before nightfall all the
town came up, with victims, and dances, and songs; and they offered
sacrifices to Athené, and rejoiced all the night long, because
their king had found a noble son, and an heir to his royal house.
So Theseus stayed with his father all the winter: and when the spring
equinox drew near, all the Athenians grew sad and silent, and Theseus
saw it, and asked the reason; but no one would answer him a word.
Then he went to his father, and asked him: but Ægeus turned away
his face and wept.
‘Do not ask, my son, beforehand, about evils which must happen:
it is enough to have to face them when they come.’
And when the spring equinox came, a herald came to Athens, and stood
in the market, and cried, ‘O people and King of Athens, where
is your yearly tribute?’ Then a great lamentation arose
throughout the city. But Theseus stood up to the herald, and cried
-
‘And who are you, dog-faced, who dare demand tribute here?
If I did not reverence your herald’s staff, I would brain you
with this club.’
And the herald answered proudly, for he was a grave and ancient man
-
‘Fair youth, I am not dog-faced or shameless; but I do my master’s
bidding, Minos, the King of hundred-citied Crete, the wisest of all
kings on earth. And you must be surely a stranger here, or you
would know why I come, and that I come by right.’
‘I am a stranger here. Tell me, then, why you come.’
‘To fetch the tribute which King Ægeus promised to Minos,
and confirmed his promise with an oath. For Minos conquered all
this land, and Megara which lies to the east, when he came hither with
a great fleet of ships, enraged about the murder of his son. For
his son Androgeos came hither to the Panathenaic games, and overcame
all the Greeks in the sports, so that the people honoured him as a hero.
But when Ægeus saw his valour, he envied him, and feared lest
he should join the sons of Pallas, and take away the sceptre from him.
So he plotted against his life, and slew him basely, no man knows how
or where. Some say that he waylaid him by Oinoe, on the road which
goes to Thebes; and some that he sent him against the bull of Marathon,
that the beast might kill him. But Ægeus says that the young
men killed him from envy, because he had conquered them in the games.
So Minos came hither and avenged him, and would not depart till this
land had promised him tribute - seven youths and seven maidens every
year, who go with me in a black-sailed ship, till they come to hundred-citied
Crete.’
And Theseus ground his teeth together, and said, ‘Wert thou not
a herald I would kill thee for saying such things of my father; but
I will go to him, and know the truth.’ So he went to his
father, and asked him; but he turned away his head and wept, and said,
‘Blood was shed in the land unjustly, and by blood it is avenged.
Break not my heart by questions; it is enough to endure in silence.’
Then Theseus groaned inwardly, and said, ‘I will go myself with
these youths and maidens, and kill Minos upon his royal throne.’
And Ægeus shrieked, and cried, ‘You shall not go, my son,
the light of my old age, to whom alone I look to rule this people after
I am dead and gone. You shall not go, to die horribly, as those
youths and maidens die; for Minos thrusts them into a labyrinth, which
Daidalos made for him among the rocks, - Daidalos the renegade, the
accursed, the pest of this his native land. From that labyrinth
no one can escape, entangled in its winding ways, before they meet the
Minotaur, the monster who feeds upon the flesh of men. There he
devours them horribly, and they never see this land again.’
Then Theseus grew red, and his ears tingled, and his heart beat loud
in his bosom. And he stood awhile like a tall stone pillar on
the cliffs above some hero’s grave; and at last he spoke -
‘Therefore all the more I will go with them, and slay the accursed
beast. Have I not slain all evil-doers and monsters, that I might
free this land? Where are Periphetes, and Sinis, and Kerkuon,
and Phaia the wild sow? Where are the fifty sons of Pallas?
And this Minotaur shall go the road which they have gone, and Minos
himself, if he dare stay me.’
‘But how will you slay him, my son? For you must leave your
club and your armour behind, and be cast to the monster, defenceless
and naked like the rest.’
And Theseus said, ‘Are there no stones in that labyrinth; and
have I not fists and teeth? Did I need my club to kill Kerkuon,
the terror of all mortal men?’
Then Ægeus clung to his knees; but he would not hear; and at last
he let him go, weeping bitterly, and said only this one word -
‘Promise me but this, if you return in peace, though that may
hardly be: take down the black sail of the ship (for I shall watch for
it all day upon the cliffs), and hoist instead a white sail, that I
may know afar off that you are safe.’
And Theseus promised, and went out, and to the market-place where the
herald stood, while they drew lots for the youths and maidens, who were
to sail in that doleful crew. And the people stood wailing and
weeping, as the lot fell on this one and on that; but Theseus strode
into the midst, and cried - ‘Here is a youth who needs no lot.
I myself will be one of the seven.’
And the herald asked in wonder, ‘Fair youth, know you whither
you are going?’
And Theseus said, ‘I know. Let us go down to the black-sailed
ship.’
So they went down to the black-sailed ship, seven maidens, and seven
youths, and Theseus before them all, and the people following them lamenting.
But Theseus whispered to his companions, ‘Have hope, for the monster
is not immortal. Where are Periphetes, and Sinis, and Sciron,
and all whom I have slain?’ Then their hearts were comforted
a little; but they wept as they went on board, and the cliffs of Sunium
rang, and all the isles of the Ægean Sea, with the voice of their
lamentation, as they sailed on toward their deaths in Crete.
PART III - HOW THESEUS SLEW THE MINOTAUR
And at last they came to Crete, and to Cnossus, beneath the peaks of
Ida, and to the palace of Minos the great king, to whom Zeus himself
taught laws. So he was the wisest of all mortal kings, and conquered
all the Ægean isles; and his ships were as many as the sea-gulls,
and his palace like a marble hill. And he sat among the pillars
of the hall, upon his throne of beaten gold, and around him stood the
speaking statues which Daidalos had made by his skill. For Daidalos
was the most cunning of all Athenians, and he first invented the plumb-line,
and the auger, and glue, and many a tool with which wood is wrought.
And he first set up masts in ships, and yards, and his son made sails
for them: but Perdix his nephew excelled him; for he first invented
the saw and its teeth, copying it from the back-bone of a fish; and
invented, too, the chisel, and the compasses, and the potter’s
wheel which moulds the clay. Therefore Daidalos envied him, and
hurled him headlong from the temple of Athené; but the Goddess
pitied him (for she loves the wise), and changed him into a partridge,
which flits for ever about the hills. And Daidalos fled to Crete,
to Minos, and worked for him many a year, till he did a shameful deed,
at which the sun hid his face on high.
Then he fled from the anger of Minos, he and Icaros his son having made
themselves wings of feathers, and fixed the feathers with wax.
So they flew over the sea toward Sicily; but Icaros flew too near the
sun; and the wax of his wings was melted, and he fell into the Icarian
Sea. But Daidalos came safe to Sicily, and there wrought many
a wondrous work; for he made for King Cocalos a reservoir, from which
a great river watered all the land, and a castle and a treasury on a
mountain, which the giants themselves could not have stormed; and in
Selinos he took the steam which comes up from the fires of Ætna,
and made of it a warm bath of vapour, to cure the pains of mortal men;
and he made a honeycomb of gold, in which the bees came and stored their
honey, and in Egypt he made the forecourt of the temple of Hephaistos
in Memphis, and a statue of himself within it, and many another wondrous
work. And for Minos he made statues which spoke and moved, and
the temple of Britomartis, and the dancing-hall of Ariadne, which he
carved of fair white stone. And in Sardinia he worked for Iölaos,
and in many a land beside, wandering up and down for ever with his cunning,
unlovely and accursed by men.
But Theseus stood before Minos, and they looked each other in the face.
And Minos bade take them to prison, and cast them to the monster one
by one, that the death of Androgeos might be avenged. Then Theseus
cried -
‘A boon, O Minos! Let me be thrown first to the beast.
For I came hither for that very purpose, of my own will, and not by
lot.’
‘Who art thou, then, brave youth?’
‘I am the son of him whom of all men thou hatest most, Ægeus
the king of Athens, and I am come here to end this matter.’
And Minos pondered awhile, looking steadfastly at him, and he thought,
‘The lad means to atone by his own death for his father’s
sin;’ and he answered at last mildly -
‘Go back in peace, my son. It is a pity that one so brave
should die.’
But Theseus said, ‘I have sworn that I will not go back till I
have seen the monster face to face.’
And at that Minos frowned, and said, ‘Then thou shalt see him;
take the madman away.’
And they led Theseus away into the prison, with the other youths and
maids.
But Ariadne, Minos’ daughter, saw him, as she came out of her
white stone hall; and she loved him for his courage and his majesty,
and said, ‘Shame that such a youth should die!’ And
by night she went down to the prison, and told him all her heart; and
said -
‘Flee down to your ship at once, for I have bribed the guards
before the door. Flee, you and all your friends, and go back in
peace to Greece; and take me, take me with you! for I dare not stay
after you are gone; for my father will kill me miserably, if he knows
what I have done.’
And Theseus. stood silent awhile; for he was astonished and confounded
by her beauty: but at last he said, ‘I cannot go home in peace,
till I have seen and slain this Minotaur, and avenged the deaths of
the youths and maidens, and put an end to the terrors of my land.’
‘And will you kill the Minotaur? How, then?’
‘I know not, nor do I care: but he must be strong if he be too
strong for me.’
Then she loved him all the more, and said, ‘But when you have
killed him, how will you find your way out of the labyrinth?’
‘I know not, neither do I care: but it must be a strange road,
if I do not find it out before I have eaten up the monster’s carcase.’
Then she loved him all the more, and said - ‘Fair youth, you are
too bold; but I can help you, weak as I am. I will give you a
sword, and with that perhaps you may slay the beast; and a clue of thread,
and by that, perhaps, you may find your way out again. Only promise
me that if you escape safe you will take me home with you to Greece;
for my father will surely kill me, if he knows what I have done.’
Then Theseus laughed, and said, ‘Am I not safe enough now?’
And he hid the sword in his bosom, and rolled up the clue in his hand;
and then he swore to Ariadne, and fell down before her, and kissed her
hands and her feet; and she wept over him a long while, and then went
away; and Theseus lay down and slept sweetly.
And when the evening came, the guards came in and led him away to the
labyrinth.
And he went down into that doleful gulf, through winding paths among
the rocks, under caverns, and arches, and galleries, and over heaps
of fallen stone. And he turned on the left hand, and on the right
hand, and went up and down, till his head was dizzy; but all the while
he held his clue. For when he went in he had fastened it to a
stone, and left it to unroll out of his hand as he went on; and it lasted
him till he met the Minotaur, in a narrow chasm between black cliffs.
And when he saw him he stopped awhile, for he had never seen so strange
a beast. His body was a man’s: but his head was the head
of a bull; and his teeth were the teeth of a lion, and with them he
tore his prey. And when he saw Theseus he roared, and put his
head down, and rushed right at him.
But Theseus stept aside nimbly, and as he passed by, cut him in the
knee; and ere he could turn in the narrow path, he followed him, and
stabbed him again and again from behind, till the monster fled bellowing
wildly; for he never before had felt a wound. And Theseus followed
him at full speed, holding the clue of thread in his left hand.
Then on, through cavern after cavern, under dark ribs of sounding stone,
and up rough glens and torrent-beds, among the sunless roots of Ida,
and to the edge of the eternal snow, went they, the hunter and the hunted,
while the hills bellowed to the monster’s bellow.
And at last Theseus came up with him, where he lay panting on a slab
among the snow, and caught him by the horns, and forced his head back,
and drove the keen sword through his throat.
Then he turned, and went back limping and weary, feeling his way down
by the clue of thread, till he came to the mouth of that doleful place
and saw waiting for him, whom but Ariadne!
And he whispered ‘It is done!’ and showed her the sword;
and she laid her finger on her lips, and led him to the prison, and
opened the doors, and set all the prisoners free, while the guards lay
sleeping heavily; for she had silenced them with wine.
Then they fled to their ship together, and leapt on board, and hoisted
up the sail; and the night lay dark around them, so that they passed
through Minos’ ships, and escaped all safe to Naxos; and there
Ariadne became Theseus’ wife.
PART IV - HOW THESEUS FELL BY HIS PRIDE
But that fair Ariadne never came to Athens with her husband. Some
say that Theseus left her sleeping on Naxos among the Cyclades; and
that Dionusos the wine-king found her, and took her up into the sky,
as you shall see some day in a painting of old Titian’s - one
of the most glorious pictures upon earth. And some say that Dionusos
drove away Theseus, and took Ariadne from him by force: but however
that may be, in his haste or in his grief, Theseus forgot to put up
the white sail. Now Ægeus his father sat and watched on
Sunium day after day, and strained his old eyes across the sea to see
the ship afar. And when he saw the black sail, and not the white
one, he gave up Theseus for dead, and in his grief he fell into the
sea, and died; so it is called the Ægean to this day.
And now Theseus was king of Athens, and he guarded it and ruled it well.
For he killed the bull of Marathon, which had killed Androgeos, Minos’
son; and he drove back the famous Amazons, the warlike women of the
East, when they came from Asia, and conquered all Hellas, and broke
into Athens itself. But Theseus stopped them there, and conquered
them, and took Hippolute their queen to be his wife. Then he went
out to fight against the Lapithai, and Peirithoos their famous king:
but when the two heroes came face to face they loved each other, and
embraced, and became noble friends; so that the friendship of Theseus
and Peirithoos is a proverb even now. And he gathered (so the
Athenians say) all the boroughs of the land together, and knit them
into one strong people, while before they were all parted and weak:
and many another wise thing he did, so that his people honoured him
after he was dead, for many a hundred years, as the father of their
freedom and their laws. And six hundred years after his death,
in the famous fight at Marathon, men said that they saw the ghost of
Theseus, with his mighty brazen club, fighting in the van of battle
against the invading Persians, for the country which he loved.
And twenty years after Marathon his bones (they say) were found in Scuros,
an isle beyond the sea; and they were bigger than the bones of mortal
man. So the Athenians brought them home in triumph; and all the
people came out to welcome them; and they built over them a noble temple,
and adorned it with sculptures and paintings in which we are told all
the noble deeds of Theseus, and the Centaurs, and the Lapithai, and
the Amazons; and the ruins of it are standing still.
But why did they find his bones in Scuros? Why did he not die
in peace at Athens, and sleep by his father’s side? Because
after his triumph he grew proud, and broke the laws of God and man.
And one thing worst of all he did, which brought him to his grave with
sorrow. For he went down (they say beneath the earth) with that
bold Peirithoos his friend to help him to carry off Persephone, the
queen of the world below. But Peirithoos was killed miserably,
in the dark fire-kingdoms under ground; and Theseus was chained to a
rock in everlasting pain. And there he sat for years, till Heracles
the mighty came down to bring up the three-headed dog who sits at Pluto’s
gate. So Heracles loosed him from his chain, and brought him up
to the light once more.
But when he came back his people had forgotten him, and Castor and Polydeuces,
the sons of the wondrous Swan, had invaded his land, and carried off
his mother Aithra for a slave, in revenge for a grievous wrong.
So the fair land of Athens was wasted, and another king ruled it, who
drove out Theseus shamefully, and he fled across the sea to Scuros.
And there he lived in sadness, in the house of Lucomedes the king, till
Lucomedes killed him by treachery, and there was an end of all his labours.
So it is still, my children, and so it will be to the end. In
those old Greeks, and in us also, all strength and virtue come from
God. But if men grow proud and self-willed, and misuse God’s
fair gifts, He lets them go their own ways, and fall pitifully, that
the glory may be His alone. God help us all, and give us wisdom,
and courage to do noble deeds! but God keep pride from us when we have
done them, lest we fall, and come to shame!
Footnotes:
{1} In the Elgin
Marbles.
{2} The Danube.
{3} Between the
Crimaea and Circassia.
{4} The Sea of
Azov.
{5} The Ural
Mountains?
{6} The Baltic?
{7} Britain?
{8} The Azores?
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