HERAKLES
THE HERO OF THEBES
AND OTHER HEROES OF THE MYTH

Adapted from the Second Book of the Primary Schools of Athens, Greece

BY
MARY E. BURT
Author of “Literary Landmarks,” “Stories from Plato,”
“Story of the German Iliad,” “The Child-Life Reading Study”;
Editor of “The Cable Story Book,” “The Eugene Field Book”;
Teacher in the John A. Browning School, New York City
AND
ZENAÏDE A. RAGOZIN
Author of “The Story of Chaldea,” “The Story of Assyria,”
Etc.; Member of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain
and Ireland, of the American Oriental Society, of the
Société Ethnologique of Paris, etc.

NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS
1900

Copyright, 1900, by
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS

TROW DIRECTORY
PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY
NEW YORK

SCRIBNER’S SERIES OF SCHOOL READING.

In Uniform Binding; each 12mo, net, 60 Cents.

Lobo, Rag and Vixen. From “Wild Animals I Have Known.” By Ernest Seton-Thompson. Illustrated.

The Howells Story Book. Edited by Mary E. Burt and Mildred Howells. Illustrated.

The Cable Story Book. Selections for School Reading, with the Story of the Author’s Life. Edited by Mary E. Burt and Lucy Leffingwell Cable. Illustrated.

The Eugene Field Book. Verses, Stories, and Letters for School Reading. Edited by Mary E. Burt and Mary B. Cable. Introduction by George W. Cable. Illustrated.

Fanciful Tales. By Frank R. Stockton. Edited by Julia E. Langworthy. Introduction by Mary E. Burt.

The Hoosier School-Boy. By Edward Eggleston. Illustrated.

Children’s Stories in American Literature, 1660-1860. By Henrietta C. Wright.

Children’s Stories in American Literature, 1860-1896. By Henrietta C. Wright.

Odysseus, the Hero of Ithaca. By Mary E. Burt. A Translation of the Story of Odysseus as used in the Schools of Athens and Berlin. Fully Illustrated.

Poems of American Patriotism. Chosen by Brander Matthews. 285 pages.

Twelve Naval Captains. By Molly Elliot Seawell. 233 pages. Illustrated.

Herakles, the Hero of Thebes. By Mary E. Burt. A Translation of the Story of Herakles and other Greek Heroes, as used in the Schools of Athens. Illustrated.

HERAKLES SLAYING A CENTAUR.
(Giovanni Bologna.)

To
SEVEN
LITTLE GENTLEMEN
WILLIE MACY
REGGIE CHARLES
LOUIS OLIVER
GRISWOLD

PREFACE

The child’s heart goes out to the man of action, the man who makes short work of things and gets directly at a result. He responds to life, to energy, quick wit, the blow that hits the nail on the head at the first stroke.

The rapidity of action in the stories of Herakles, Jason, and other Heroes of the Myth, the prowess and courage and untiring endurance of the men, render the characters worthy subjects of thought to young minds, and have secured the stories a permanent place in educational literature. It is not elegant literature alone that boys need, but inspiring ideals which will impel them to stand fearlessly to their guns, to do the hard thing with untiring perseverance, to reach the result with unerring insight.

It is exactly this unbending courage in Herakles and his comrade heroes, that has made them the backbone of literature for ages, holding their own in spite of the sapless literary fungus crowding our book-shelves.

While travelling in Greece I found the children of the primary schools reading these stories in the lower grades, the book being the one used next above the primer. The interest was enthusiastic, and I brought home a copy of the book, which, with Madame Ragozin’s collaboration, I have arranged as a first or second book of reading for our own schools.

Mary E. Burt.

The John A. Browning School,
New York, March 15, 1900.

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

INTRODUCTION
THE LAND OF THE HEROES

One look at the map of Greece will show us that it is the smallest of European countries. For many hundreds of years it was inhabited by the handsomest, bravest, and most intelligent people in the world. But these people, the Greeks, or Hellenes, as they called themselves, had not always lived in the country.

Thousands of years before the Hellenes came to Greece it was a perfect wilderness of mountains, narrow valleys, torrents, and tangled forests. It was a land of wild beasts, and they were so numerous and fierce that there was almost no room for men.

Yet men did live there, but we know nothing about them or what they were like, except that they hid in caves and had hardly got beyond the art of making fire, trapping and killing the less dangerous animals with sticks or little arrows pointed with stones, and using their meat for food and hides for clothing.

Then the new people, the Greeks, began to come into the country. They came in boats from across the sea and on foot from the north, through numberless mountain-passes. They did not come all at once, but in small detachments, in single tribes, so that it took them many years to spread over the country.

The new race was nobler than the old, more advanced in knowledge and in the arts of civilized life. It was not a race to be content with caves and forest-dens, but each tribe, after it had chosen a district and taken possession of it, selected some high hill, built rude dwellings upon it and temples to its patron gods, a public treasure-house also, and enclosed the hill with strong walls. It had become a fortress, and was called Acropolis, in their language.

Each tribe, of course, had its leaders, usually belonging to some family which had earned the gratitude and loyalty of the people by brave and affectionate service, and the leadership descended from father to son. These were the kings and they resided within the Acropolis.

Around it and under the protection of its walls the people built their own huts and began to clear the land. They sowed various crops, planted the vine and the olive, and raised herds of sheep and goats. There was room enough within the walls for all the families, with their herds, to find shelter in the Acropolis in times of danger, from the attacks of the wild natives or of the still wilder beasts of the forests and fields.

Now these latter were by far the most dangerous enemies of the new settlers, who soon found that they could venture but a few miles from their small home-farms without encountering huge and ferocious animals which the increased herds attracted and which their miserable weapons were utterly insufficient to slay or even put to flight.

Each small district had its particular terror, just as many districts of India now have a man-eating tiger, which makes miles and miles of country around unsafe for man or beast.

It became a question which of the two, the men or the wild animals, would remain in possession. Then young and courageous men, sons of the ruling families, athletes in strength, practised in the arts of war, commanding through their greater wealth the use of better weapons, felt it their duty to their people to do for them what the poor herdsmen and laborers had neither the strength nor the skill to do for themselves.

From all the central royal cities they started singly or in small troops, a bevy of young heroes, as eager for the delights of adventure as for the public good. Year after year they wandered across country seeking the most impassable wildernesses, directed by the stories they heard on their way to the dens of the cruel monsters, which they usually overcame by force or cunning.

Then they would return to their homes triumphant, bearing the proof of their incredible prowess, the hides, or horns, or heads of the monsters they had slain. Thus they put new heart into their people. Their trophies seemed to say: “You see these creatures were not so terrible as they might have been; what we have done others can do.” So they did a double good—one immediate by the destruction of the dreaded foes and by the opening of the land to the planters and the tillers; the other even more far-reaching and more beneficent in its results by raising men’s spirits, inspiring them with confidence and with the ambition to show that they were not mere helpless boors, cowed and dependent on their betters.

The Greek nation in years to come proved itself a nation of heroes and was so called by fame. But who can tell how much these heroes were indebted for this honorable distinction which has remained by them to this day, to the early vigorous education which those doughty champions of old imparted to them, not by preaching or advice, but by their own dauntless example.

Can we wonder if their people’s passionate gratitude and unselfish admiration survived those glorious men through ages? Can we wonder if after centuries had come and gone the memory of their deeds and persons appeared to later generations through a halo of wonder and awe?

Deeds of a remote past always assume gigantic proportions. “Surely,” men would say, “surely, those heroes were more than ordinary mortals! They had more than human strength, endurance, wisdom. Neither iron fang nor claw of steel could harm them. They died, indeed, but of their nature they must have been half divine; their mothers were human, but surely the gods themselves were their fathers.”

And thus it was settled, and for many, many hundreds of years the Greeks continued to honor their ancient heroes as half-divine men, or demi-gods, and to erect altars to them and come to them with prayers and offerings. The Greek had to grow in mind and soul high enough to grasp the truth that there can be only one God, and that no man, high as he may tower above his kind, can be more than human.

But it was a beautiful and ennobling belief, and at first sight it seems a pity that it was ever lost, yet in reality it was a great gain, for men may think they have an excuse for not putting forth their bravest efforts if they believe that the gods only can achieve deeds of courage. There is no reason why men may not aspire to any height of bravery which has been gained by other men.

The undying energy embodied in the characters of these old heroes is the inheritance of every child. The children of America are not born the sons of ruling houses. But they are destined to be the guardians and rulers of their native land. And if the children take into their future lives the heroism they first realize in ancient story, they will find themselves, when the time comes, armed with the same courage, endurance, and love of human beings which have made the heroes of all lands and ages.

HERAKLES
AND OTHER HEROES OF THE MYTH

CHAPTER I
THE BABE HERAKLES

Far away in the land of Argos there once lived a beautiful maiden, the daughter of a brave king. She was tall and fair and her name was Alkmene. Her father was rich in the possession of many oxen.

Her husband also owned great herds of oxen. He had so many that he could not tell them from those of the king. So he quarrelled with the king and slew him. Then he took Alkmene and fled from his native land. They came to Thebes and made it their home.

Here Herakles was born, the babe who was stronger than the strongest of men. The goddess, Hera, hated Herakles. She was the wife of Zeus, the Lord of Thunder and King of Heaven. Hera was angry because Zeus loved him, and she was jealous because Zeus had foretold that Herakles would become the greatest of men. More than that Zeus had deceived Hera and sent the infant Herakles to her to be nursed that he might be made strong and god-like by tasting divine milk.

So Hera sent two large snakes to devour the babe when she found out what child it was that she had fed. Herakles lay asleep in the great brazen shield which his father carried in battle, for he had no other cradle. The fearful serpents crept up with open mouths into the shield with the sleeping babe.

As soon as Alkmene saw them she was terribly frightened and called in a loud voice for help. His father, hearing the outcry of Alkmene, ran into the house with his sword drawn and a great many warriors came with weapons in their hands.

Herakles was only eight months old, but before his father could reach him he sat up in his bed and seized the serpents by their necks with his little hands. He squeezed and choked them with such force that they died.

When Alkmene saw that the two snakes were dead and that Herakles was safe, she rejoiced greatly. But Hera’s heart was filled with wrath and she began to plan more mischief against the child.

Herakles had his free will as long as he was a boy. His teachers were celebrated heroes who taught him boxing, wrestling, riding, and all kinds of games. He learned to read and write and to hurl the spear and shoot with bows and arrows. Linos taught him music.

Herakles had a violent temper, and one day as Linos was teaching him to play the lute, the good teacher had reason to punish him. Herakles flew into a rage at this and struck Linos and killed him. Then his father sent him to the hills and left him to the care of herdsmen.

The boy grew to be very large and strong. While he was yet a youth he slew a lion of great size that had killed many of his father’s cattle. He went home wearing the lion’s skin as a sign of his victory.

Because he was so brave the King of Thebes gave his daughter to him in marriage and he lived happily with her for many years. But a sudden insanity came upon him during which he mistook his wife and children for wild beasts and shot them down with his bow and arrows. When Herakles recovered from his insanity and saw what he had done his grief was boundless.

CHAPTER II
HERAKLES IS DOOMED TO SERVE EURYSTHEUS

The wrath of Hera followed Herakles. When Zeus saw that Hera’s heart was filled with anger toward Herakles, he mused within his own mind how he might best appease her resentment and protect the young man.

So he called the gods together in council and they advised that Herakles be placed in bondage to his uncle Eurystheus, to serve him as a slave, and they ordained that he should perform twelve hard tasks, after which he would be numbered among the gods.

Eurystheus was a mean fellow, stupid and cowardly. He was glad enough to have a chance to bully a man wiser and stronger than himself. He was born in Tiryns, a great fortress with many castles, built upon a large rock, but he had been made King of Argos and lived in the capital, Mykenæ, and he resolved to keep Herakles as far away from the kingdom as possible, for in his heart he was afraid of him.

Herakles was grieved at being compelled to serve a man so much below him in strength and character, so he consulted the oracle at Delphi to see if there was any escape, but he did not murmur, for he was willing to obey the law of the gods.

The oracle of Delphi was a mysterious influence, a divine spirit which expressed itself through a priestess living in a sacred temple. It was supposed to be the voice of the god Apollo using this human agency for making known his will to men. The priestess became inspired to utter Apollo’s holy laws by sitting on a golden tripod (or stool with three legs) over a chasm in the rock, from whence arose a sacred, sulphurous vapor which she breathed in as the breath of the god, and which caused her to breathe out his commands in wonderful sayings.

The chasm from which the vapor issued was called The Chasm of the Oracle, and was in a large apartment or room in the temple. This celebrated temple had many columns of marble and splendid rooms made beautiful with thousands of marble statues. It stood on the side of Mount Parnassos, whose snow-covered head reaches into the clouds and looks down into the blue Gulf of Corinth below it to the south.

It was here that Apollo killed the great dragon, Pytho, which had been the scourge of the land for many years, and the grateful people built the temple in his honor. The oracle bade Herakles go forth to be the slave of Eurystheus and so atone for all his sins, but it gave him as a compensation a dear friend, Iolaos, who was also his young nephew. Wherever Herakles went Iolaos went with him and helped him.

CHAPTER III
THE FIRST LABOR—THE NEMEAN LION

It happened that a fearful lion lived in Nemea, a wild district in upper Argolis, and it devastated all the land and was the terror of the inhabitants. Eurystheus ordered Herakles to bring him the skin of this lion. So Herakles took his bow, his quiver, and heavy club and started out in search of the beast.

When he had reached a little town which is in the neighborhood of Nemea he was kindly received by a good countryman, who promised to put him on the track of the lion if he would sacrifice the animal to Zeus.

THE PRIESTESS OF APOLLO AT DELPHI.
(Michael Angelo.)

Herakles promised, and the countryman went with him to show him the way. When they reached the place where traces of the lion were seen, Herakles said to his guide: “Remain here thirty days. If I return safely from the lion-hunt you must sacrifice a sheep to Zeus, for he is the god who will have saved me. But if I am slain by the lion you must sacrifice the sheep to me, for after my death I shall be honored as a hero.” Having said this, Herakles went his way.

He reached the wilderness of Nemea, where he spent several days in looking for the lion, but without success. Not a trace of him could be found, nor did he fall in with any human being, for there was no one bold enough to wander around in that wilderness. Finally he spied the lion as he was about to crawl into his den.

The lion was indeed worthy of his terrible fame. His size was prodigious, his eyes shot forth flames of fire, and his tongue licked his bloody chops. When he roared, the whole desert resounded.

But Herakles stood fearlessly near a grove from whence he might approach the lion, and suddenly shot at him with his bow and arrow, hitting him squarely in the breast. The arrow glanced aside, and slipping around the lion’s neck, fell on a rock behind him. When Herakles saw this he knew that the lion was proof against arrows and must be killed in some other way, and seizing his club, he gave chase to him.

The lion made for a cave which had two mouths. Herakles closed up one of the entrances with heavy rocks and entered the other. He seized the lion by the throat and then came a terrible struggle, but Herakles squeezed him in his mighty arms until he gasped for breath, and at last lay dead.

Then Herakles took up the huge body and, throwing it easily over his shoulder, returned to the place where he had left the countryman. It was on the last of the thirty appointed days, and the rustic, supposing that Herakles had come to his death through the lion, was about to offer up a sheep as a sacrifice in his honor.

He rejoiced greatly when he saw Herakles alive and victorious, and the sheep was offered up to Zeus. Herakles left the little town and went to Mykenæ to the house of his uncle and showed him the dead body of the terrible lion. Eurystheus was so greatly frightened at the sight that he hid himself within a tower whose walls were built of solid brass.

And he ordered Herakles not to enter the city again, but to stay outside of its gates until he had performed the other labors.

Herakles stripped the skin from the lion with his fingers, although it was so tough, and knowing it to be arrow-proof, took it for a cloak and wore it as long as he lived.

CHAPTER IV
THE SECOND LABOR—HERAKLES KILLS THE WATER-SNAKE OF LAKE LERNA

Not far from Mykenæ is a small lake called Lerna. It is formed from a large spring at the foot of a hill. In this lake there lived a water-snake called the Hydra. It was a snake of uncommon size, with nine heads. Eight of the heads were mortal, but the one in the middle was immortal.

The Hydra frequently came out of the water and swallowed up herds of cattle, laying waste the surrounding country. Eurystheus ordered Herakles to kill the snake, so he put on his lion’s skin, and taking his club, started out. He mounted his chariot and took his faithful friend Iolaos, who acted as charioteer.

Every warrior had to have a charioteer to drive the horses, leaving him free to use both of his hands. But driving was by no means the charioteer’s only duty; he had also to look out for danger and protect the warrior with his shield as well as to supply him with arrows from the quiver suspended at the side of every chariot, and with reserve spears when his own was broken in the fray.

It is clear, therefore, that the warrior’s life was entirely in the hands of his charioteer, so it is no wonder that only the hero’s dearest and most trusted friends were allowed to serve him in this way.

After driving along for a while through groves of olive-trees and past pleasant vineyards, they came to wild places and saw Lake Lerna gleaming through the trees. Having reached the lake, Herakles descended from the chariot, left the horses in care of Iolaos, and went to hunt for the snake.

He found it in a swampy place where it was hiding. Herakles shot some burning arrows at the Hydra and forced it to come out. It darted furiously at him, but he met it fearlessly, put his foot upon its tail, and with his club began to strike off its heads. He could not accomplish anything in this way, for as fast as he knocked off one head two others grew in its place.

The snake coiled itself so firmly around one of Herakles’ legs that he was no longer able to stir from the place. Added to all this there came a huge crab to the assistance of the snake. It crept up to Herakles’ foot, and seizing it with its sharp claws, inflicted painful wounds. Herakles killed the crab with his club and called Iolaos to help him.

Under Herakles’ directions Iolaos produced a fire-brand which he applied to the neck as fast as Herakles cut off one of the snake’s heads, in this way preventing them from growing again. Finally it came the turn of the head which could not die. Cutting it off Herakles buried it in the ground, placing a heavy stone over it.

Then he dipped some arrows into the Hydra’s blood, which was poisonous, so that whoever was wounded by one of them could not be healed. The least scratch inflicted by such an arrow was incurable.

Eurystheus, of course, had no word of praise for his great bondsman, but the people, knowing that the place was now safe, flocked to the land in great numbers and drained the lake, which was really not much more than a big marshy pond, and in their new homes they blessed the hero’s name forever. That was the prize for which Herakles cared the most.

If you should go to-day to that old battle-field of Herakles you would still find the spring flowing from the rocks, but Lake Lerna exists only in story.

CHAPTER V
THE THIRD LABOR—THE GOLDEN-HORNED HIND

The lower part of Greece is a most peculiar-looking bit of country. You would think it had been torn off from the bulk of the land but kept hanging on to it by a small narrow strip. Then, too, its shape is so queer that it has been compared to all sorts of things; sometimes to a mulberry leaf, sometimes to an open hand.

If we keep to the latter comparison, we will find that the part which answers to the palm of the hand is a large and intricate knot of high wooded mountains which shoot out spurs in all directions. These spurs with the land attached to them stretch out into the sea as so many small peninsulas and not badly represent the fingers of the hand. The central knot of mountains is even now different from the country all around.

The people there are wilder, very much given to robbery and violence and very slow to accept new ways of life or improvements of any kind. In the old heroic times of several thousand years ago that country was simply an impassable wilderness.

It was overcrowded with wild beasts, among which the bear must have been the most plentiful since the land was named after him, Arcadia—the land of Bears. Wolves were known also to abound.

The men who had their villages in the narrow valleys by the mountain-streams were fierce and lawless. There was nothing for them to do but to keep goats and hunt all day long. Arcadia was truly the paradise of hunters and therefore held as specially sacred to the beautiful huntress, the goddess, Artemis—the Lady of the Chase. She roamed over hills and valleys and through woods and groves by moonlight to protect the herds and flocks, this beautiful daughter of Zeus.

In these same mountains of Arcadia there roamed a lovely Hind sacred to Queen Artemis, who gave her golden horns so that she might be known from other deer by the huntsmen. Thus they might be saved from the crime of slaying what was sacred to the gods. Eurystheus ordered Herakles to bring him the Hind alive, for he did not dare to have her killed.

Herakles spent a whole year seeking her from the mountain-tops down to the valleys, through tangles of brush, over streams and in forests, but he was not able to catch her. After a long chase he forced her at last to take refuge on the side of a mountain and from that place to go down to a river to drink.

In order that he might prevent the deer from crossing the water, Herakles was obliged slightly to wound one of her legs. Not till then was he able to secure his game and carry it to Eurystheus.

On his way to Mykenæ Herakles was met by Artemis, who upbraided him for having captured the Hind belonging to her. Herakles made answer: “Great Goddess, if I have chased and caught thy deer, I did it out of necessity, not impiety; for thou well knowest that the gods ordered me to be a servant to Eurystheus and he commanded me to catch the Hind.”

With these words he soothed the anger of the goddess and brought the golden-horned Hind to Mykenæ.

CHAPTER VI
THE FOURTH LABOR—THE ERYMANTHIAN BOAR

Elis is a beautiful plain lying to the north and west of Arcadia. Here once in five years there was a great festival in honor of Zeus, when all the men and boys ran races, wrestled, boxed and played all sorts of games. Between Arcadia and Elis there is a high mountain-range, called Erymanthos. There a terrible Boar had its lair.

The Boar frequently left its den and came down into the plains and killed cattle, destroyed fields of grain and attacked people. Eurystheus, having heard of this Boar, made up his mind that he wanted the beast alive, and so ordered Herakles to bring it to him.

The hero put on his lion skin once more and started for the mountain. On his way he stopped at a little town where the Centaurs had their home. These strange people were half man and half horse. We have heard that they were really men, but such good riders that they seemed to be one with their mountain ponies.

Their home was just on the edge of a high plain, covered with oak-trees and looking down across a wild valley, through which flowed the Erymanthos River. There were many forests and little streams and dreadful gorges in the valley, where these horsemen used to hunt and fish.

The Centaur Chief, Pholos, received Herakles as a guest and gave him cooked meat to eat, while he ate it raw himself, after the Centaurs’ custom.

When Herakles had eaten his fill, he said to Pholos: “Thy food is indeed good and tasteful. But I should enjoy it still more if I could have a sip of wine, for I am very thirsty.” To which Pholos replied: “My dear guest, we have very fine and fragrant wine in this mountain, and I should like nothing better than to give thee some of it. But I am afraid to do so, because it has a strong aroma, and the other Centaurs, if they smelt it, might come to my cave and want some. They are very fierce and lawless, and might do thee great harm.”

“Let not that trouble thee,” said Herakles. “I am not afraid of the Centaurs.” So the wine was placed before him and he drank of it. In a little while a great noise was heard outside of the cave, a shouting of many wild voices and a stamping of many horses’ feet. What Pholos feared had come to pass.

The Centaurs had smelt the fragrance of the wine and in full armor had made for the cave of Pholos. Then began a terrible fight. The Centaurs fell upon Herakles with pine-branches, rocks, axes, and fire-brands, and the clouds, their mothers, poured a flood of water on him. But Herakles was too clever for them. He put two to flight, prevented others from entering the cave, and shot the rest down with his arrows.

Pholos was a kind-hearted chief, and hearing one of the Centaurs crying for help outside of his cave, went out to him and tried to pull the arrow from his wound, wondering at the same time that so slight a weapon could cause his death. But the arrow slipped out of his hand and struck his own foot. It made only a scratch, but it could not be healed, for the arrow was one of those which Herakles had dipped in the blood of the Hydra, and poor Pholos breathed his last.

The death of his kind host was a great sorrow to Herakles, for in those times, when there was so little safety in travelling, the bond of kindness and gratitude between host and guest was one of the closest and most sacred, often more so than that between members of the same family. In all their later lives, host and guest could never meet as enemies, and if the chances of war brought them face to face as foes, they were not expected to fight. They exchanged greetings and gifts and drove off in different directions.

Herakles therefore sincerely mourned his friend, performed over him the proper funeral rites, and buried him with all due honors in the side of the mountain. There he left him, sore at heart, but comforted by knowing that he had done all he could do to reconcile the shade of Pholos, and that his soul would bear him no grudge in Spirit Land.

Then Herakles went on his way in search of the Boar. He soon spied him in a dense thicket and chased him to the very top of the mountain. The mountain-top was covered with deep snow, which prevented the Boar from running fast enough to escape. So Herakles ran up to him, caught him in a net, threw him over his shoulder and carried him off alive to Mykenæ.

It is said that Eurystheus hid himself in a large brazen bowl when he heard Herakles approaching the city, and that Herakles threw the Boar into the same brazen bowl as the safest place in which to keep him. How astonished Eurystheus must have been to find himself in such terrible company! And we can fancy that he scrambled out with all possible haste.

CHAPTER VII
THE FIFTH LABOR—HERAKLES CLEANS THE AUGEIAN STABLES

We have already read about Elis, a plain in the southwestern part of Greece, where all the people used to worship Zeus and where they built a wonderful temple in his honor. They built a temple to Hera, his wife, also, and many other temples which were filled with statues. What a fine time you would have if you could only go and see this beautiful land. Perhaps you will some time.

The temples are in ruins now, and they cover enough ground for a small town. The huge blocks of marble lie on the ground just as they fell, and there are the marble floors as people used to see them two thousand years ago. There is a high hill close to the ruins. It is called the mountain of Kronos, “Old Father Time.” Kronos is said to have been one of the early kings of Elis and he was the father of Zeus. He swallowed up his children when they were babes, if we care to believe what is said of him, and the story could easily be true, for Time swallows everything if he is only long enough about it.

The strong men and the boys used to come to Elis to have athletic games in honor of Zeus. They ran races, they boxed, they shot arrows and did all sorts of things to show how strong they were. There are two rivers at the foot of Mount Kronos, and beyond the rivers are many low hills where people used to sit and watch the games.

There was at one time a king of Elis, Augeias, who was so rich in cattle that he hardly knew what to do with them and consequently he built a stable miles long and drove his cows into it. He did this year after year and the herds kept growing larger. He could not get men enough to take care of his stables and the cows could hardly get into them on account of the filth; or if they did get in they were never sure of getting out again because the dirt was piled so high.

Eurystheus thought he had found a disagreeable and impossible task for Herakles, and so he ordered him to clean out the stables in one day. Herakles told Augeias that he must clean the barns and promised to do it in one day if he would give him one-tenth of all his cows. The king thought Herakles would never be able to do it in one day and readily promised him in the presence of his son one-tenth of the cows.

The king’s stables were close to the two rivers, near Mount Kronos. Herakles cut channels and sent the rivers running into the stables. They rushed along and carried the dirt out so quickly that the king was astonished. He did not intend to pay the promised reward and pretended that he never made any such promise.

And he said he would have the matter come before a court and the judges should decide it. Then Herakles called the little prince as a witness before the judges, and the boy told the truth about it, which caused the king to fall into such a rage that he sent both his son and Herakles out of the country. Herakles left the land of Elis and went back to Mykenæ. But his heart was filled with contempt for the faithless king.

CHAPTER VIII
THE SIXTH LABOR—THE BIRDS OF STYMPHALOS

On the northern limit of Arcadia is a huge cliff, over which pours a black ribbon of water. At the bottom of the cliff it is lost among piles of rocks. The water itself is not black, but it appears so because the rock is covered with black moss, and so the stream is called the Styx or Black Water.

The Styx is icy cold and it runs along under the ground so that it seems to belong to the dead, and is called the River of Death. When the gods used to make a promise which they did not dare to break they said, “I promise by the Styx.” This promise was called “the Great Oath of the Gods.”

Farther on in the land of Arcadia there is a vale called Stymphalos. It lies among the mountains and is open to the storms of winter and the floods of spring. And there are a lake and a city both called Stymphalos. The people of Athens hope to carry the water of this lake to Athens by means of an underground channel. All about the lake are hills covered with firs and plane-trees.

Lake Stymphalos was the home of a countless number of birds which held noisy meetings in the woods. They had iron claws and their feathers were sharper than arrows. They were so strong and fierce that they dared attack men, and would tear them to pieces that they might feast upon human flesh. They bore a striking resemblance to the Harpies, and were the terror of all the people who lived near Stymphalos.

Eurystheus ordered Herakles to drive the birds away. So Herakles took his bow and quiver and went to the lake. But the forests were so dense that he could not see the birds, and he sat down to think of the best way to drive them out. Suddenly the goddess of wisdom came to him to help him.

The goddess gave him a huge rattle and told him how to use it. Herakles went up on to the highest mountain that lies near the lake and shook the rattle with a will. The birds were so frightened by the noise that they came out of the thick wood where their nests were and flew high up into the air.

Their heavy feathers fell like flakes in a driving snow-storm. Herakles shot at the birds with his arrows. He killed a great many of them and the rest were so scared that they flew away and were never seen again at Stymphalos.

CHAPTER IX
THE SEVENTH LABOR—HERAKLES CATCHES THE MAD BULL OF CRETE

There is an island south of Greece which is so large that it would take you from early morning until late at night to sail past it. There are high mountains all along the shore and they look as if they were covered with snow. There is a cave in one of the mountains where Zeus was hidden when he was a babe so that his father, Kronos, should not swallow him. The nymphs fed him on honey and a famous goat gave him milk.

The name of this island was Crete, and Minos ruled there as king. It was his duty to sacrifice to Poseidon, the God of the Sea, whatever came up out of the water.

Minos was rich and greedy. He loved his cattle better than the will of the gods. It came to pass that a wonderful Bull rose from the sea while Minos was king. When Minos saw him he admired the beauty of the animal so much that he resolved to keep him. He drove the Bull into his barn and sacrificed another to the God of the Sea.

Poseidon grew angry with him and caused the Bull to become mad so that no one dared to approach him. Eurystheus ordered Herakles to catch him and bring him to Mykenæ.

So Herakles went to Crete and begged Minos to give him the Bull. The king told him that he was entirely welcome to the Bull if he could catch him. Herakles seized him by the horns and bound his feet together and carried him off to Mykenæ.

There he showed the mad animal to Eurystheus and then set him free. The Bull wandered off to Sparta and over the hills of Arcadia and crossing the Isthmus, he reached Marathon, where he left the land and swam off into the sea.

CHAPTER X
THE EIGHTH LABOR—THE HORSES OF DIOMEDES

Greece was bounded on the north by a wild and mountainous land, called Thrace. The natives were not of Greek stock and remained fierce, lawless, and cruel for a long time after Greece had become the most civilized of countries. They were so quarrelsome and such desperate fighters that their country was supposed to be the favorite residence of the war god, Ares.

The king who reigned in Thrace at the time of Herakles was so much worse than the rest of the people that he was said to be Ares’ own son, and he was called the storm king. He was very fond of horses and kept a breed of them after his own heart. They were man-eating horses, which he fed on the flesh of any strangers who came to that country or that were wrecked on the shore, thus breaking the most sacred laws and making himself hated by men and gods. The horses were blood-thirsty and so furious that they had to be chained to their stalls.

Eurystheus commanded Herakles to bring these horses to his stables in Mykenæ. This time Herakles took several friends with him, who helped him catch the horses and lead them to the shore. Diomedes, having heard of the robbery, started in pursuit with many armed men.

Herakles and his friends went by sea. They attacked the guards and led the horses down to the ship. A terrible battle followed, in which the wicked king was slain by Herakles, who threw him as food to the horses. The warriors who helped Diomedes were put to flight and some of Herakles’ best men were also killed. With the rest he drove the horses into his ship and brought them safely to Mykenæ.

Eurystheus, of course, had no intention of keeping them in his stables and had them set loose. They ran off into the forests of Arcadia and were never seen again. It was thought that they were devoured by the mountain wolves.

CHAPTER XI
THE NINTH LABOR—THE GIRDLE OF HIPPOLYTE

Eurystheus, as we have seen, sent Herakles a little farther every time in hopes of never seeing him again. It would take you a whole day going on the best steamer to get to Crete from Athens, and in those days, when steamers had not been thought of, the sailing must have been slow indeed. Eurystheus now sent the hero yet farther off to the Black Sea, on the southern shore of which there lived the Amazons, a nation of warlike women.

The Amazons were brought up like men. Their main occupation was war, and they were excellent horsewomen. They were sharpshooters with the bow and arrow. Hippolyte, the queen of the Amazons, was a brave and handsome woman. She wore a celebrated girdle, the gift of Ares, as a sign of her queenly rank.

Eurystheus had a daughter who had heard of the beauty of the famous girdle which was worn by the Amazon queen. She begged her father to send Herakles to bring it to her. Then Eurystheus ordered Herakles to fetch the girdle, and he manned a ship and sailed away, taking several companions with him.

After many wanderings they reached the Black Sea and sailed to the Amazon country. Queen Hippolyte was at once informed that some strangers had arrived from a far-off land, and she came down to the shore to learn why they had come. Herakles told her that a princess had sent him to get the girdle given her by Ares. Hippolyte admired the bold hero for his frankness and promised that she would give it to him.

But Hera changed herself into an Amazon and rushing into the midst of an army of them cried out, “The strangers are carrying off our queen!” Then all the Amazons snatched up their arms and rushed on horseback to the ship. When Herakles saw them coming armed to attack his men, he thought Hippolyte had betrayed him and he slew her and took her girdle.

Then he attacked the rest of the Amazons and put them to flight. When the battle was over, Herakles and his companions went on board the ship and sailed for home.

Soon after they had started on their way to Mykenæ they found Hesione, the daughter of Laömedon, on the shore chained to a rock. Laömedon was at that time king of Troy, and Herakles and his companions stopped to find out why the daughter of a great king had to suffer such a terrible punishment. She told Herakles that Apollo, the sun god, and Poseidon, the god of the sea, once took on the form of man and began to build walls around the city of Troy. Her father promised to aid them but neglected to keep his promise. This conduct made the gods indignant and Apollo sent a pestilence to rage in the city while Poseidon sent a sea-monster which came up out of the ocean and devoured the people.

Laömedon asked the priest of Apollo how he might appease the wrath of the gods. The priest answered that the city would be freed from the double plague if Laömedon would chain his daughter to the rock on the shore where the monster might devour her.

Laömedon obeyed the oracle and had her chained to the cliff near the sea. Just then Herakles arrived and stopped near the shore, when Laömedon with hot tears entreated him to save his daughter. Herakles promised to do it under the condition that Laömedon should give him as a reward a famous horse in his possession.

Herakles killed the sea-monster, but Laömedon again did not keep his promise and Herakles left Troy, his heart filled with scorn for the faithless king. On his return to Mykenæ he gave the girdle of the Amazon queen to his cousin, the daughter of Eurystheus.

CHAPTER XII
THE TENTH LABOR—THE CATTLE OF GERYON

Iberia, now called Spain, lies at the farthest end of Europe, and beyond it, in the Atlantic, is an island which was once the home of Geryon, a famous giant. His body was as large around as three other men’s bodies put together. He had three heads and three pairs of legs and six arms. He had huge wings also and carried dangerous weapons.

Geryon was the lord of many herds of cattle. He had one herd of red oxen, as red as the sky at the setting of the sun, and they were guarded by a trusty herdsman and a fierce two-headed dog. Eurystheus ordered Herakles to bring the cattle to Mykenæ.

Herakles having overcome numberless difficulties, wandering through wild deserts and unknown lands, finally reached the open ocean, the end of all. There he erected as a monument two pillars opposite each other, one on the African shore, and one in Europe. These were called the Pillars of Herakles in those days, but now they are known as the Rocks of Ceuta and Gibraltar.

Helios, the Sun, admiring the bravery of Herakles, lent him his golden skiff, shaped like a cup. Helios always sailed round the world every night from west to east in this cup, and Herakles, although he feared a storm, took his place in the strange boat and started for the island where Geryon tended his red cattle. The world, as the Greeks saw it, was in the form of a great plate, and the ocean was a river surrounding it as the rim surrounds the plate.

When the two-headed dog saw Herakles he rushed at him with fury, and the herdsman also attacked him at the same time. Herakles slew them both with his club, took the cattle and fled toward the boat. Then Geryon sprang upon him and forced him to fight for his life. They had a dreadful battle, in which Herakles drew his bow and shot at the giant with one of his deadly arrows and Geryon died.

Herakles at once drove the oxen down to the boat, and after a safe voyage landed them in Iberia. Then he started for home on foot, driving his cattle northward over the Pyrenees into Gaul or France. Here he was attacked by hundreds of people who wanted to rob him of his cattle.

Herakles shot at them with his arrows and killed great numbers, and they stoned him in return with large stones. Herakles would have lost the battle but Zeus sent down a shower of rocks of vast size, and Herakles hurled them at his foes, driving them away like frightened sheep. These enormous rocks are still to be seen in the south of France.

After this adventure Herakles drove his cattle over the Alps and down into Italy across the Tiber, and they came to the Seven Hills of Rome. In one of these hills there was a cave, the home of a lawless giant named Cacus. He was a creature of iron strength, and was hideously ugly. He breathed out fire and smoke, often killing people in this way, and everybody in all the country about feared him. Cacus saw Herakles coming with his cattle over the river and among the hills, and he determined to steal the cattle and hide them in his den.

So when Herakles was asleep and the cattle were grazing quietly, Cacus slipped out of his cave and, seizing great numbers of them by the tails, dragged them backward into the cavern that their tracks might point away from the cave and not toward it. When Herakles awoke he missed his cattle and began to look for them. He found their tracks and went in the direction they seemed to point out, getting farther and farther from their place of hiding. The oxen bellowed, and their noises were muffled by the rocks of the cavern, but Herakles heard them and returned to the Seven Hills. Listening intently he traced them to the right hill, but Cacus had braced a stone slab against the opening and it could not be moved from the outside.

Herakles went around to the other side of the hill and, tearing the stones away, forced a new entrance. He sprang into the cave and seized the terrible monster by the throat. Cacus blew flames into the hero’s face and tried to burn him to death, but Herakles held on and strangled the giant to death. A volume of black smoke came from his mouth and a stream of melted lead as he fell back dead. Herakles tore the slab from the door of the cave and threw the body of Cacus out on the hill, and all the people came to see it and rejoice that their foe was slain. And they built an altar to Herakles and instituted games to be held every year in his honor.

Herakles left the Seven Hills and drove his cattle southward. Being tired, he lay down to rest on a mountain near Locri, and the grasshoppers came around him singing in such shrill tones that he could not sleep. He prayed to the gods to drive them away, and the gods swept them out of that region so that they never came back.

One of the wild oxen ran away to the southwest and escaped to an island. Herakles followed, driving the whole herd over to the island. The cattle swam across, and Herakles, sitting on the back of one of the oxen and holding on by its horns, was safely taken over. He captured the runaway and wandered for a long time through the island, enjoying the fresh water of the springs and the kindness of the people. Then he drove his cattle back to Italy and passed up the shores of the Ionian Sea.

But Hera sent gadflies to make the cattle wilder than they were before, and they scattered over the mountain-heights as clouds are scattered by a hot wind. They fled far to the east, until they came to Thrace. There Herakles gathered together as many as he could and brought them to Mykenæ, where Eurystheus sacrificed them to Hera.

CHAPTER XIII
THE ELEVENTH LABOR—THE GOLDEN APPLES OF HESPERIDES

When the wedding between Zeus and Hera was celebrated all the gods brought presents. Mother Earth brought some apple-trees as her gift. These trees bore precious golden apples, and Zeus and Hera were so pleased with their wonderful wedding-present that they appointed four maidens, called the Daughters of the West, to guard the apples, and also they placed a dragon there with a hundred heads, who never slept.

The fruit was so inviting that even the maidens would have been tempted to eat it if the terrible dragon had not kept close to the tree. A roar like thunder came out of each of his hundred mouths and frightened everything away that dared approach the trees, and lightning darted from his eyes to strike down intruders.

The trees grew more and more beautiful from year to year, and the apples were so heavy that the boughs bent beneath the golden load. They grew in the Garden of the Hesperides, in islands way off to the west, and were watered by springs of nectar which had their rise near the throne of Zeus.

Eurystheus had heard of the apples and he ordered Herakles to bring them to him. For a long time Herakles wandered about in various lands until he came to the river Rhone, where the water-goddesses or nymphs advised him to ask counsel from the ancient lord of the deep sea, who knew all the secrets of the ocean depths and whose wisdom was beyond that of the gods. He is called by many names, but his gentlest name is Nereus, and he does not like to be questioned unless he can take any shape he pleases.

He usually escapes intruders, but to those who are not afraid and who manage to grasp and to hold him, he freely opens the store of his wisdom. This was what Herakles did. Nereus took on the form of a lion, a serpent, a fish, a stream of water, and at last, of an old man, but Herakles held him close and learned from him the road to the Garden of the Hesperides.

Leaving Nereus, Herakles travelled south into Africa, where he met Antæos, a huge giant who lived in the desert. Antæos was a son of Earth and Ocean, and he was as strong as the terrible sand-storms. He was cruel to all travellers who crossed his domains and slew them, but he loved and protected the tiny Pygmies that lived all around him. No one had ever been able to vanquish him in battle, for Mother Earth gave him new strength and vigor every time he lay down or touched the ground.

Herakles wrestled with him and threw him down many times, but Antæos sprang up stronger than ever. At last Herakles caught him up with one hand, and holding him high in the air where he could not receive help from Mother Earth, squeezed him to death.

Herakles was tired out with this tremendous exertion and lay down in the desert to rest. But he did not sleep long, for a whole army of the little people, seeing their beloved giant lying dead, came with their weapons to attack Herakles. He found himself covered with them from head to foot. He sprang up, and quickly gathering up his lion’s skin, crushed a multitude of the Pygmies and killed them.

Then he hurried away toward the east, going through many countries until he came to India, and finding himself travelling in the wrong direction, turned to the north and west and came to the Caucasus Mountains. Here he found Prometheus chained to the rocks of a high mountain-peak. Prometheus had taught mankind the use of fire and how to build houses and had otherwise interfered with the work of the gods, thereby bringing this punishment upon himself. Herakles took pity on him and set him free. In return for this kindly act Prometheus told him the most direct way to the Garden of the Hesperides, which was through Scythia and the region of the Hyperboreans at the back of the North Wind.

On his way Herakles stopped to visit Atlas, who as a punishment for once having rebelled against the gods was obliged to carry the heavens on his shoulders. “Let me relieve thee for awhile, friend Atlas,” said Herakles, after greeting him in a most cordial manner. “Let me take the heavens on my shoulders and I will let thee do me a great service in return. I must have the Golden Apples that grow in the Garden of the Hesperides to take to Eurystheus, and thou canst bring them to me.”

Atlas gladly placed the heavy firmament on Herakles’ shoulders and took his way to the Garden. There he contrived to put the many-headed dragon to sleep and then slay him. Taking possession of the Golden Apples, he returned with them to Herakles.

“I thank thee very much, friend Atlas,” said Herakles. “Take thy place again and give me the apples.”

“Nay, I have borne the weight of the heavens for a long time,” answered Atlas. “Thou hadst better keep my place and I will carry the Golden Apples to Eurystheus.”

Herakles was taken aback at this reply and began to consider how he might escape from this unexpected dilemma. At last he spoke. “Very well, I will willingly remain in thy place, friend Atlas,” he said. “One thing only I must first ask of thee. Take the heavens back just for a moment while I get a pad to put on my head so that the weight may not hurt it. Otherwise the heavens will fall and crush us both.”

Poor, simple old Atlas agreed to this, and putting the Golden Apples on the ground he again took the firmament on his shoulders. Herakles picked up the apples and went off saying, “We must not bear malice toward each other, friend Atlas. Good-by.”

With this he departed and hastened back to Mykenæ.

CHAPTER XIV
THE TWELFTH LABOR—HERAKLES FETCHES CERBERUS OUT OF HADES

According to the terms of the doom that was laid upon Herakles, the performance of the last task was to free him from Eurystheus. Eleven were now fulfilled and the tyrant’s heart failed him when he thought of what he might expect at the hands of the hero he had used so ill when once he was free from his power.

Cowards always fear those whom they have ill-treated, so he determined to send Herakles on an errand from which he thought he could not possibly return. He had come back unharmed from every known and unknown country on the face of the earth, but who was ever known to return alive from the land of the dead? So Eurystheus as a last task ordered him to go down to Hades and bring out alive Cerberus, the three-headed dog that guards the entrance to the lower world, feeling sure that Herakles would remain forever in Hades.

Cerberus was a terrible monster. Besides having three heads, he had a tail which ended in a serpent’s head, and all along his spine he had serpents’ heads instead of hair. His duty was to see that no dead should escape from Hades after once entering its gates.

There was a long dark cave leading down to Hades and the river Styx flowed across it. A white-haired old ferryman, Charon by name, waited with his boat on the shore to carry the spirits of all who died. There they were met by Minos, the great judge, who told them whether they could go into the fields of the Blessed or whether they were doomed to the region of the Unhappy. Charon’s boat was but a delicate skiff and adapted only to carrying souls without bodies, so Herakles was not a welcome passenger.

Herakles found his way into Hades in spite of all the difficulties, and presenting himself to Pluto, the King of the Dead, begged him to give him the Dog.

Pluto replied: “Take him and lead him out into the world and thou shalt have him. But thou must not use any weapon.” Herakles answered, “I will use no weapon but my hands, and with them alone I will conquer him.” Wearing his breastplate and clad in the lion’s skin he approached Cerberus, who stood on guard at the gates. He threw his arms around the Dog’s three heads and pressed them with all his might. The Dog fought with great fury, and bit him with the snake’s mouth which he had at the end of his tail. Herakles threw his lion’s skin over the head of the Dog and dragged him out by another gate into the daylight. Cerberus had never seen the light of the sun and was frightened beyond measure. He foamed at the mouth, and wherever the foam fell upon the ground it caused a poisonous plant to grow.

Herakles took Cerberus to Eurystheus, who was not pleased to see the Dog or the Hero. Then he carried him back to Hades and restored him to Pluto, and so were the twelve great labors ended.

CHAPTER XV
THESEUS, THE HERO OF ATHENS

The land of Attica is very different from Arcadia. It was cleared at a much earlier time than the southern part of Greece, which could be done the more easily as the soil being naturally rather barren was not covered with the thick, bristling forests which there sheltered so many dangerous animals, and made it such hard work for the peasants to clear the smallest patch of farm.

Then, although the land offers but scanty pasture for cattle and bears but few kinds of trees and crops, it happens that those which it does bear are the very ones that were the greatest favorites with Greek farmers—the olive and the vine. Besides which, being a peninsula, and therefore almost entirely surrounded by the sea, fish and other sea-food was very plentiful, and trade with more or less distant neighbors very easy.

Attica has no very high mountains, but those that there are supply the country with beautiful marbles, both white and colored. The people, having such lovely material within reach, became from the earliest times the most skilful of builders. Their Acropolis, for which nature itself supplied them with a beautiful, tall rock, of bright-colored stone, soon became their greatest pride. It was the envy of their neighbors, because of the splendid marble palaces and temples which they could raise there at so little cost.

The city which grew up at the foot of the Acropolis was named Athens, after the goddess of wisdom and cunning craft, Athena, the favorite daughter of Zeus. It is clear from this that the Athenians considered themselves more civilized and in every way superior to the other Greeks. Indeed, they were all that, and even as far back as the heroic times their city began to be famous above others.

In this favored land of Attica, at the same time that Herakles astonished the world with his miraculous deeds, there reigned a king, Ægeus, who, having no child to succeed him on the throne, was grieved at heart. So Ægeus went to Delphi to consult the Oracle, and the priestess told him that he should go to Trœzene, where he would find a beautiful and gentle wife, the Princess Æthra, daughter of Pittheus, the King of Trœzene. And the Oracle promised that his wife should bear him a son whose name would become famous over all the world.

So Ægeus took his way to Trœzene, where he found Pittheus, the wise old king, who received him hospitably and gave him his daughter, Æthra, in marriage. Ægeus grew very fond of his wife, but after awhile he had to think of returning to his own kingdom, which he could not leave to itself forever. Æthra’s father was old and feeble, and she did not like to leave him to the care of slaves; so Ægeus agreed to let her stay with him.

But before Ægeus departed he took Æthra to an out-of-the-way place and dug a pit in which he hid his sword and sandals. Then he rolled a large stone over the pit and said to his wife: “Listen, Æthra; take good care of the son which the gods are about to send us, but do not tell him who his father is. When he has grown to be a youth, bring him to this spot, and if he is able to lift the stone, let him take the sword and the sandals and come to me with them.” After saying these words, Ægeus kissed his wife, and bidding her an affectionate farewell, returned to Athens.

When Theseus was born, Æthra rejoiced greatly, and brought him up with great care, as she had promised Ægeus she would do. He was the pride of his grandfather’s court, and the good old king had him trained in all kinds of games and athletic exercises and in the use of the lyre. When he had grown up, Æthra led him to the rock, and after having told him the name of his father, she said to him: “My son, lift up this heavy stone. You will find under it what your father left for you. Take his gift and go to Athens with it.”

Theseus, without any difficulty, raised the stone with his strong arms, and Æthra hung his father’s sword over his shoulder and tied the sandals to his feet. Then Theseus was ready to set out for Athens. Æthra advised him to go by sea. It was the quickest and safest way. The woods by land were everywhere full of dangers from wild beasts and wicked men.

But Theseus, having heard of the great deeds of Herakles and envying the fame of the hero, said: “Herakles was set the task to destroy the wicked and to cleanse the land and sea from evil-doers; and so I will not shirk tasks which lie under my very feet and I will not shame my father, fleeing ingloriously over the sea, where I can perform no noble deeds by which I might prove myself a worthy son to him, and do honor to my mother’s wisdom in bringing me up in the way she has done.”

Theseus kissed his mother and grandfather and started on his journey by land. The worst part of his road lay across the Isthmus of Corinth, which was so narrow that it gave little chance for escape.

CHAPTER XVI
THE FIRST EXPLOITS OF THESEUS. HE FINDS HIS FATHER

To the northwest of Trœzene is a tongue of land projecting into the Ægean Sea. In ancient times the town of Epidauros was situated upon it, and the temple, where Asklepios, the God of Healing, was worshipped, stood near by. It was a wild country whose hills were covered with trees and shrubs—the hiding-place of lawless robbers, the boldest of whom was named Periphetes. He was also called Korynetes, and he used an iron crown for a weapon, and with it he smashed the heads of travellers.

Periphetes put himself in Theseus’ way and would not let him go on. But the youth grappled with him, and taking his iron crown from him, crushed him to death with it. Theseus carried the crown as his own particular weapon, just as Herakles wore the skin of the Nemean lion.

The most cruel of all the robbers lived a few miles farther to the north, on the Isthmus of Corinth, and his name was Sinis. He was called the Tree-bender, because he used to bend together two young pines. Then he would tie a man by a leg and arm to each tree and let the trees spring back, tearing the poor wretch to pieces. Theseus punished this malefactor by giving him the same treatment that he gave to others, and the people of the Isthmus were so grateful that they started a festival, called the Isthmian Games, to be held in honor of the hero every year.

On to the north went Theseus. He slew a man-eating boar at Krommyon, which had long terrified the people of that district. Coming among the wild cliffs near the sea in Megaris, he heard of the cruel giant Skiron, who used to lie in wait for travellers. This evil-doer compelled those who fell into his power to wash his feet. This task performed, he flung the unlucky traveller into the sea.

When Theseus passed his den Skiron ordered him to wash his feet, and Theseus answered: “To tell the truth, friend Skiron, thy demand is too small. I would willingly do more for thee. Not only are thy feet in need of a bath but so is thy whole body. The sea is near and I will give thee a thorough washing.” And he seized Skiron around the body and flung him over the rocks into the breakers. From that time until to-day the rocks are called the Skironian Cliffs.

A little farther on Theseus came upon another famous robber known far and near as the Stretcher, Korydallon, or Prokrustes. This robber used to force the wayfarer to lie down on a bed which was always too long or too short for him. If the traveller proved too tall for the bed, Prokrustes would cut off his feet and legs to make him short enough to fit it. But if the traveller were too short for the bed, he would have him stretched until his feet touched the foot-board. Prokrustes invited Theseus to try the bed, but Theseus answered him: “Thou shalt try it first, friend Prokrustes, and I will try it after thee.” Then Prokrustes was compelled to lie down in the bed, which was much too short for him, and Theseus cut off his head and his feet to make him fit the bed, as the cruel Stretcher had done to so many hapless strangers. Theseus exterminated a great many more cruel robbers who had made the roads to Athens unsafe, and the glory of his deeds went on before him.

Theseus, having performed these brave deeds, reached Athens; but the rougher class, seeing a stranger who wore a garb of a different fashion from their own, scoffed at him, as is the custom of vulgar people. His hair was long and his form slender, so they called him a girl and told him that he ought to take his nurse with him to protect him. As he walked along among these coarse people he came to a wagon heavily laden. He took up the wagon with its load and tossed it high in the air as easily as he would toss a ball, much to the astonishment of his tormentors.

Theseus having come to the king’s palace in Athens, at once presented himself before Ægeus. But he did not immediately make himself known as his son. When he was called to the table as a guest he drew his sword as if he wanted to eat the meat with it, and Ægeus recognized him as his son and received him with joy and affection. Calling together the citizens he proclaimed Theseus his son and successor.

The citizens had heard of his heroic exploits, and acknowledged him heir to the throne amid general rejoicings. Only the nephews of Ægeus were sorry that Theseus had appeared in their midst. They had hoped to inherit the kingdom after their uncle’s death, believing that he had no children. But now that Theseus came among them as a successor to the throne, they rebelled.

Theseus was brave and strong enough to defend his father and himself. He fought the rebels one after another and killed them. These victories increased his glory greatly and won him the hearts of the people of Athens.

CHAPTER XVII
THE ADVENTURES OF THESEUS

I. The Marathonian Bull

Theseus was too active to love an idle life and began to look around him to find ways of helping his father’s people. He wanted to be worthy of the throne. “It is not enough,” he said, “that I am of royal descent. I should also have a royal heart and be of real service to mankind. I must be a leader in deeds as well as in words.” He soon found an opportunity to show his prowess.

To the northeast of Athens is a beautiful mountain-ridge with a white marble band across it. This is the famous Pentelikon, and the purple mountain of Hymettos is separated from it by a narrow pass. Beyond these mountains is the plain of Marathon sloping down to the blue sea. In the plain of Marathon the terrible Bull which Herakles had brought from Crete to Eurystheus still roamed, but the tyrant had turned it loose. This Bull did great havoc among the inhabitants of the surrounding country.

Theseus heard of their distress and promised to free them from the fearful beast. He armed himself with a tough shield and a long spear and went to Marathon. When he found out the Bull’s hiding-place he chased and overtook him. He grappled him by the horns with his powerful hands and dragged him back to Athens. The people of Athens and all the country about came to meet Theseus. They rejoiced because he had rid them of such a pest and they admired his strength, but they did not dare to help him, and stood ready to run for their lives in case the Bull should slip away from him. Theseus went through the midst of the city holding on to the Bull, which he took to the temple of Apollo and offered up as a sacrifice to that god. Old Ægeus shed tears of joy when he saw how the gods honored him in the possession of such a son.

II. Theseus Sails to Crete

But there was a greater adventure with greater glory awaiting Theseus, for Athens had a more terrible enemy than the mad Bull of Marathon. It had happened years before that a son of Minos, the wise and powerful King of Crete, had come to Athens to take part in the yearly festival held in honor of the goddess Athena. He took part in all their public games and came off victor every time. The athletes of Athens were very angry that a man from another country should show more skill and carry off all the prizes, so with Ægeus’ consent they killed him.

Then Minos made war on the Athenians and killed a great number of them, and the gods also punished them for this treacherous murder by letting the land bear no crops and by sending on them a deadly fever.

The Athenians were compelled to surrender to Minos, and they had to agree to the most humiliating terms. They promised to send seven youths and seven maidens every year to Crete.

Now Minos had a park laid out by the most cunning man of his times. There were walks and paths so many and so winding that no one who got into it could get out again, but had to wander on and on, getting more and more confused. This park was called the Labyrinth, and in the centre of it was a cave in which just at that time King Minos kept a dangerous monster which had the body and limbs of a man but the head of a bull.

The creature was called the Minotaur and it was fierce and cruel. There was only one way to prevent him from roaming the fields and endangering the lives of the people. He had to be kept in a good humor, and this could be done only by feeding him now and then on human flesh. So Minos bethought him of using the Athenian captives for that purpose.

When the time of the third tribute arrived, the citizens of Athens began to urge Ægeus to do something to prevent the dreadful sacrifice. They accused him of being the sole cause of the trouble. They told him that it was shameful that he had no share in the punishment. These complaints wounded the ambitious Theseus to the quick.

His sense of justice told him that it would be only right for him to share the troubles of the citizens, and therefore he insisted on going to Crete with the seven youths and the seven maidens.

The citizens felt sorry for Theseus, and Ægeus prayed his son to remain at home with him, but Theseus answered: “My dear father, how can I be happy when the whole nation suffers? How can I abide in safety when our subjects are sacrificed? Do not try to dissuade me, for honor calls.”

The vessel which was to take them to Crete was ready to start. It carried a black sail, a sign of its direful errand. Theseus tried to console his father by telling him that he was going to kill the Minotaur. Ægeus was quick to believe in the valor of his son and gave another sail, a white one, to the pilot, telling him to hoist it if they returned happily, but to leave the black one up if Theseus failed to win the victory. The ship sailed away and the parents and relatives of the youths and maidens wept bitter tears, but all the citizens called aloud to the gods to give Theseus success in his generous undertaking.

CHAPTER XVIII
THE ADVENTURES OF THESEUS

III. Theseus Kills the Minotaur

The ship reached Crete and Minos ordered the weeping youths and maidens to be thrown into the den of the Minotaur and Theseus with them. By a lucky chance Ariadne, the daughter of the king, saw Theseus and was moved with pity and a wish to save him. She slyly gave him a ball of yarn and told him to fasten one end of it to the inside entrance to the Labyrinth and then wind it off as he walked along that he might find his way back again.

Theseus took the ball and went with his companions into the Labyrinth. He fastened one end of the thread firmly to the inside of the entrance, and as he walked along the thread caught and held on to the bushes. They could hear the bellowing of the Minotaur as they approached the cave, and the companions of Theseus hid themselves in the bushes, trembling with fright. But Theseus approached fearlessly, and rushing upon the Minotaur, thrust his sword through him and the monster fell dead.

The youths and maidens came out from their hiding-places, and surrounding Theseus, kissed his hands and called him their preserver. Theseus, guided by the thread which Ariadne had given him, led his companions safely to the entrance of the Labyrinth. And when they were free from its entanglements, Theseus gratefully raised up his hands to heaven and offered a prayer of thanks to the gods for their escape.

Theseus and the companions whom he had saved reached the sea-shore unhindered, hurried their vessel into the water, unfurled the sail, and rowed with all their might in order to escape as quickly as possible from Crete and return to their own beloved country. The wind was favorable and the vessel cut through the sea like a swan. They passed through the midst of the islands of the sea and first landed at Delos, the home of the god, Apollo. This beautiful land was like a floating star and was said to be surrounded by a wall of pure gold.

Theseus offered a sacrifice to Apollo and danced with the youths and maidens a dance in which they represented the winding passages of the Labyrinth. But in their great joy neither he nor the pilot thought of unfurling the white sail. Old Ægeus came every day to the sea-shore to watch for the return of the ship. There he sat on a high cliff and gazed over the wide waters; he hoped to see the boat coming with the white sail hoisted, and was in great agony of mind for fear he should see it coming with the black sail up.

At last he espied, one day, a ship coming from afar. The nearer it came the greater grew the old king’s anxiety. Soon he recognized the boat. It was the one which had borne away his beloved Theseus. But alas! the ship still carried the black sail, the sign of sorrow.

“My son is dead!” exclaimed the unhappy king. “My only son is dead! My beloved Theseus!”

The grief of Ægeus was beyond bounds and his reason left him. In despair he threw himself from the cliff into the sea and was drowned, and from that time all that water has been called the Ægean Sea.

The ship entered the port near Athens and Theseus brought the thanksgiving offerings which he had promised the gods when he left the port, and he sent a herald into the city to announce their safe return.

The Athenians, as soon as they learned that Theseus and the seven youths and seven maidens had returned safely, hastened to the palace, men, women, and children, and received him with joy and honors. But Theseus’ pleasure changed to grief when he learned that his father had died on account of his great love for his son.

The Athenians led him forth, however, amidst the greatest demonstrations of enthusiasm and proclaimed him their king. Thus Theseus became King of Athens not only because he was of royal descent but because he was manly and loved his country better than himself. The court of Theseus became celebrated for its splendor and he ruled with prudence. The villages of the plain of Attica had formerly been at war with each other. Now they united under one government, with Athens as the chief city. Theseus founded festivals and encouraged education, and was in every way a good and wise leader.

Long after his death there was a beautiful temple erected in his honor, and it stands in Athens to this day. The stories of his great deeds are carved in its stones, which are much worn by time. There you can see the hero slaying Prokrustes, Skiron, the Minotaur, and Periphetes. And you can see the capture of the wild Bull of Marathon. There, too, are the stories of Herakles, in stone, as he slew the lion and hydra and performed other valiant deeds.

We speak of these heroes as if they had once lived in the flesh and died like mortals, but no one can tell whether or not they are purely Heroes of the Myth.

CHAPTER XIX
JASON, THE HERO OF THESSALY

Phrixos and Helle

Bœotia is a district northwest of Athens and quite different from the Attic plain. The name means The Land of Cattle, because it abounds in fat pasture-lands, is moist and fertile, and its beautiful green meadows slope up to the wooded mountains and lead down to well-watered valleys. Bœotia was always the paradise of farmers, who from the conditions of their life became famous for their stupidity.

THE TEMPLE TO THESEUS AT THE FOOT OF THE ACROPOLIS IN ATHENS.

Thebes was the capital of Bœotia, but each district had its own smaller city and its own ruling family, whose sons called themselves kings. One of these petty kings, Athamas, had a son and daughter named Phrixos and Helle, and when their mother died he took another wife, the fair Ino, but she was not as good as she was fair, for she was jealous of her step-children. So she contrived a plot for getting rid of them which was well carried out. Ino persuaded all the women of the country to use the seed grain or hide it so that none of it could be used for the next year’s crop.

The women followed the queen’s advice and the next year there was a great famine in the land. The women did not dare to tell their secret, although their families were beginning to starve. Then Athamas sent to the Oracle at Delphi in order to find out the cause of the trouble, and how he might deliver the country from the distress.

But Ino secretly persuaded the messenger to say that the Oracle had given the following answer: “The famine will cease when Athamas has sacrificed Phrixos to Zeus.”

The king was almost stunned with grief when he received this message. How was it possible for him to sacrifice his own beloved son? But the wicked Ino published the false Oracle among the starving people, who, driven by hunger, clamored loudly for the death of Phrixos. The king being compelled by his people, allowed Phrixos to be led to the altar to be sacrificed.

But the spirit of the child’s own mother came down in the form of a cloud to save him. She brought a large ram whose fleece was of shining gold, and said to the two children: “My dear unfortunate little ones, come and sit on this golden sheep and he will fly away with you and carry you safely into a far country, where the wicked Ino will no longer have the power of injuring you.” Then she helped Phrixos to mount to the back of the ram and she placed his little sister Helle behind him with both her arms around him, and disappeared.

The ram flew up into the air like a bird and soared away over mountains and valleys and rivers and plains. Away, away they went through the blue sky until they reached the straits which separate Europe from Asia. There Helle lost her balance and fell into the sea. In vain did Phrixos try to save his sister, who cried and stretched out her arms to him. The poor child was swallowed by the waves and devoured by sea-monsters. From that time the sea in that place has been called the Hellespont.

Phrixos sailed on alone, on the back of the ram, which took him to the farthest shore of the Black Sea and landed him at Kolchis. There the king received Phrixos kindly. Phrixos sacrificed the ram to Zeus and hung up the golden fleece in a grove which was sacred to Ares, the God of War. The golden fleece was priceless in value and was guarded by a terrible sleepless dragon.

CHAPTER XX
JASON CLAIMS HIS THRONE

More than a hundred miles northwest of Athens is Thessaly, the most northern country of Greece. The greater part of it consists of mountains, the highest and steepest of all Greece. Among these the loftiest is Mount Olympos, whose summit, with its three snowy peaks standing out like glittering marble against the blue sky, rises high above the surrounding ridges. So glorious and so pure and so high did it appear to the ancient Greeks, that they imagined it to be the dwelling-place of the gods. It seemed the very end of the world as it rose up and shut off this horizon; and they believed the throne of Zeus, himself, to be on its summit.

When the shining crest was obscured by clouds, pious people from many countries around turned to it in awe and said that the Lord of Heaven had hid his face, and waited for him to hurl his lightnings and speak in thunder. And the people of Thessaly loved to walk in the Vale of Tempe, where the wild fig-tree and wild grape, the willow, and ivy clung with tough roots to the rugged rocks at the foot of the mountain.

The most mountainous portion of Thessaly was, of course, wild and inhospitable. The Centaurs were said to dwell in its gorges and caves, and it was claimed that they were wiser and gentler than the Centaurs of Arcadia. They were said to have gathered much lore of herbs and forest things, and to have been excellent surgeons. The same was told by fame of the Thessalian mountain-women, who, while as rugged and fierce as the men, were said to be extremely handsome and great mistresses in the art of making ointments and magic waters and juices for the casting of spells; in short, they were famous all over Greece as the most knowing and dangerous witches.

The land changed wonderfully where it sloped down to the sea. The narrow valleys spread out into broad plains. The moisture, gathered and treasured by the forests and protected by their shade, filtered through the soil, keeping the grass green for the large herds which at that time were the greatest wealth, both of farmer and king; while the thousand rivulets and streamlets that hurried down the mountain-side in brooks and torrents ran together and formed handsome rivers which scarcely ever became dry or even shallow, as did the small and stony streams of Attica. Many of the rivers of Attica are so small that they never reach the sea at all, but run into the sand and waste themselves, while the Thessalian rivers all carry their waters to the sea.

The largest of them, that which flows through the richest and most fertile country, is the Peneus, famed in song and story. In this beautiful land of Thessaly lived a king, Pelias. He really had no right to the throne, for he had an older brother. But that brother, being of a peaceful nature, allowed Pelias to take the crown from him, while he himself retired to some land he had in the mountains. His son, Jason, a handsome youth of great promise, he sent for his education to the wise Centaur, Chiron, who made his home in the deepest mountain-caves.

When Jason was twenty years old and his education in manly sports and in the art of war, in song and in music, was such as to do honor to his master, Chiron, he was directed by an Oracle to go straight to his uncle Pelias and boldly claim his father’s kingdom. This was an undertaking after his own heart. Shortly after this Pelias celebrated the yearly festival of Poseidon, the God of the Sea, by solemn sacrifices offered on the shore. This was a grand national occasion, so he invited everyone around and did not dare to leave Jason out.

Jason accepted the invitation. He donned the skin of a panther which he had killed himself, and taking two long spears, started on his way. Now Pelias had learned from an Oracle that he should lose his kingdom, and he was always in fear. The Oracle had said that a descendant of Œolus would take his crown and throne from him, and that this person would come to him with only one sandal on. Pelias, therefore, was always on the lookout for the man with one sandal.

As Jason came along he saw an old woman sitting on the bank of a river which he had to cross. She begged him to take her over. The young Greeks were taught that their first duty was to be helpful and respectful to old people. Jason willingly took the old woman in his arms and carried her over as if she had been a child. She thanked him and wished him good luck.

The current of the river was strong and rapid and it swept away one of Jason’s sandals. He set the old woman down on the shore after crossing and then stood in doubt as to whether he had better go back to look for his sandal. The old woman, however, advised him to proceed on his way. Then she disappeared. This meeting turned out to be of much greater importance to the young man than he could have imagined, for it was the goddess Hera, the Queen of Heaven, herself, who had taken the shape of an old woman to test his kindness and good-breeding. Being pleased with both, she remained his friend and protector.

The public square was full of people when Jason arrived. His face was comely, his figure heroic, and his long hair hung down to the panther’s skin on his shoulders. He carried two long spears and walked like a king. Everybody turned in wonder to gaze at him, and some of them said to one another, “This stranger is no mortal man—he must be Apollo in disguise.” Others said, “No, it is the God of War. Look at his powerful, athletic frame.”

Just at this moment Pelias came driving by on his chariot drawn by two fleet-footed mules. His eyes were also attracted by the beauty of the youthful stranger, but when he noticed that he wore only one sandal he trembled with fear. Pelias, being old and crafty, concealed his anxiety and received his young kinsman with cordial friendliness seemingly. Jason at once announced his right to the king’s throne, and Pelias admitted his claim.

But Pelias told him that he was too young to take such a responsible place, and suggested that so stalwart a youth ought to do some valiant deed to win the respect and admiration of his people before coming into power. “The people would not care for thee,” he said, “if thou shouldst take the crown as a birthright and not because of thy prowess.”

Then King Pelias proposed, as a suitable and honorable test of Jason’s qualities as hero and leader, that he should cross the Black Sea and bring from Kolchis the golden fleece of Phrixos’ ram. The wily old man had judged Jason at a glance and knew that no words or offer of his could appeal more powerfully to the young hero’s generous instincts; he also knew that the danger of such an undertaking would be attractive to his youthful imagination. But he smiled wickedly under his beard when Jason delightedly agreed to his proposal. Pelias thought to himself, “No sane man would ever go on such an expedition, and not the bravest man could return alive. He will never come back, and I shall remain the King of Iolkos.”

CHAPTER XXI
THE EXPEDITION

Jason cared little about the motives of the king in sending him after the Golden Fleece. His courage ran high and the anticipation of seeing other countries and doing valiant deeds filled his mind. He set about building a large ship, the finest the world had ever seen, and to do this he employed Argos, a famous shipbuilder. No expense or labor was spared, and when the ship was finished it was named the Argo in honor of the builder. It was the largest ship that had ever sailed from Greece.

When the ship was ready Jason assembled the noblest heroes of all Hellas, Herakles, Kastor and Pollux, Meleagros, Peleus, Admetos, Theseus, Orpheus and two sons of Boreas, and many others of great renown. Jason invited them to go with him on this expedition, and they gladly accepted the invitation. They praised the ship; it was such a remarkable piece of work, and said that Athena must have advised and helped Argos, for no human being could make such a good boat. Jason was to be the captain, and all those who embarked on it with him would receive the name Argonauts, which means those who sail in the Argo.