Favorite Greek Myths (Yesterday's Classics) (17 page)

There he found the river-nymphs playing among the rocks. They told him that Nereus, the sea-god, knew where to find the Garden of the Hesperides, but would never tell the secret unless he were compelled to do so. They told him also that, without any fear of what might happen, he must seize Nereus, and hold him fast till he gave the desired information.

Thanking the nymphs for their kindness, Hercules followed the Rhone down to the place where it flowed into the sea. Then he lay in wait behind some rocks, till the sun went down and the moon came up.

Presently, a queer little old man came up out of the water, and set about making himself comfortable for a nap on shore. The old man had short horns growing from his forehead, and his long hair and beard had the appearance of a tangle of sea-weed. Hercules knew at once that this was Nereus; and as soon as he saw the poor old sea-god sleeping soundly, he ran out and seized him, as the nymphs had said he must.

All at once he found that he was holding a struggling stag; then the stag became a sea-bird, screaming to get free; the sea-bird changed to a fierce three-headed dog; the three-headed dog took the form of the giant, Geryon, who seemed to have come to life again, and to be more savage than ever; next Geryon changed to a monstrous snake. All this time Hercules held on tighter and tighter. At last, Nereus, seeing that he could not frighten Hercules into letting him go, took his proper shape again and asked him what he wanted.

Hercules replied that he only wanted to know how to get three of the golden apples which grew in the Garden of the Hesperides. Nereus told him that if he would go down into Africa, where the giant Atlas was holding up the world, Atlas would get the apples for him.

So Hercules went down into Africa. Almost as soon as he had touched the African shore, he was attacked by a terrible earth-born giant, called Antæus. This was a very difficult giant to conquer. The secret of his wonderful strength was that his mother Gæa, the goddess of the earth, made him stronger than ever, each time that he touched the ground. But Hercules, knowing how Gæa helped him, held him high above the earth, and so strangled him. It had been the habit of Antæus to kill all travellers who passed that way, but he never killed any more after meeting with Hercules.

When his fight with Antæus was over, Hercules lay down on the ground and went to sleep. He soon awoke, feeling as if he were being stung by a thousand insects. Sitting up, and rubbing his eyes, what should he see but a multitude of tiny people, no larger than bumble-bees, who, while he was asleep, had been climbing over his body, and attacking him with their little bows and arrows. These were the Pygmies. Hercules laughed heartily at their warfare, and then he tied a few of them into a corner of his lion's skin, to take to Eurystheus.

After this, he wandered about in Africa for a long time. At last he found Atlas. Seeing how tired the giant looked, Hercules offered to take the burden of the world upon his own shoulders for a while, if Atlas would get him the three golden apples. This Atlas readily consented to do.

So Hercules held up the world, while Atlas went to get the apples. This was an easy thing for Atlas to do, for the nymphs who kept the garden were his nieces.

When Atlas came back with the apples, as he did shortly, he himself offered to carry them to Eurystheus, if Hercules would only hold up the world a little longer, and he meant that Hercules should continue to hold up the world, forever.

But Hercules saw through the trick, and matched it with another. He thanked Atlas, and asked him to take the world again, for a moment, while he found a pad which would make the weight much easier to bear. So Atlas took the world again. Then Hercules took the apples, and although Atlas shouted to him to come back, he was soon beyond the sound of the giant's voice, and well on his way to Mycenæ.

H
ERCULES
had now accomplished eleven out of his twelve labors. If he succeeded once more, Eurystheus would be obliged to set him free.

The twelfth labor was the most difficult and dangerous of all. It was nothing less than to go down into Pluto's kingdom and bring back to Mycenæ Pluto's three-headed watch-dog, Cerberus.

No doubt, Eurystheus thought that this would be impossible, and that he should never have to set Hercules free; or that, if the hero were foolish enough to go down into Pluto's kingdom, he would never be seen or heard from again.

In a certain dark, gloomy grove, even farther to the west than the Garden of the Hesperides, was a chasm between two huge rocks. Down very deep in this chasm, if one had the hardihood to look in, one might see the faint sparkle of water—water that looked as black as ink. A strange and very unpleasant odor, a kind of sulphurous smell, hung about the spot. If wild birds flew over that black water, they wavered in their flight for an instant, then fell headlong into the chasm, and never came out again. Strange rumblings were sometimes heard there. It was one of the places through which Pluto's kingdom, the great gloomy underworld, could be entered. The underworld could be entered here, but no one who went down into that black hole had ever been known to come back.

However, Hercules had never been afraid of anything yet, and he was not afraid to go down into this chasm. Down he went, armed only with his club, his bow and arrows, and his lion's skin. He clambered down the rocks till he had reached a great depth, then he walked through a long, dark passage till he came to a gate. There, by a very faint light, which came from a cleft in the mountains above, he saw Cerberus with his three savage heads, and his snake's tail, guarding the way.

When the dog saw Hercules, instead of growling and bristling, he wagged his horrid tail, and came forward as if he meant to welcome him to his master's kingdom.

Hercules passed in at the gate, and as he did so, a great number of shadowy ghosts, that had been looking out from between the bars, fluttered away, like so many bats.

Hercules kept on, walking through dark caves and narrow passages, till he came to Pluto's throne. Then he told Pluto, frankly, what the order of Eurystheus had been, and asked the privilege of taking Cerberus back with him to Mycenæ. Since Hercules had done and suffered so much, and had proved himself a true hero, Pluto granted him this privilege, but only on the condition that he should capture the dog without the use of weapons of any kind.

So Hercules went back to the gate. There was Cerberus. But instead of fawning on him as he had done before, the dog was now very fierce, showing his teeth, and bristling, and looking formidable, indeed. Still, Hercules was not afraid. He seized Cerberus quickly, and overpowered him, with the vice-like grip of his hands. King Eurystheus almost tumbled off his throne, when he saw Hercules come back from the underworld, actually dragging Cerberus after him. He could hardly believe his own eyes. He now set his cousin free, because he could not do otherwise; but he immediately forbade him to enter again the gates of Mycenæ, as he thought that this powerful cousin might take his kingdom from him. Hercules, however, had no such intention.

By this time, all the neighboring kingdoms rang with the fame of Hercules. Now that he was no longer obliged to work for King Eurystheus, every king or noble, who was at war with his neighbors, or who was troubled with robbers or wild beasts in his own dominions, applied to him for help.

So there was still plenty to do. In fact, Hercules gave himself no rest, for he listened to every appeal, feeling that it was the work of his life to rid the world of all monstrous evils.

At last the time came when he was taken up to Mount Olympus to live with the gods, as the wise man, Tiresias, had foretold.

It happened in this way. Hercules, as was befitting for such a hero, married a king's daughter. When he was taking home his bride, whose name was Deianeira, he came to a swollen river. As he stood on the bank, wondering how he could cross, a centaur came galloping up, and offered to carry Deianeira across on his back. Hercules accepted the offer. When the river was crossed, the centaur, with Deianeira still on his back, started off across the hills, running swiftly, for he meant to steal the bride.

Hercules called to him to come back; then, as he only ran away the more swiftly, sent one of his poisoned arrows after him. The centaur fell to the ground with the poison of the hydra spreading through his veins. As he lay dying, he gave Deianeira a charm, which, he said, should she ever lose her husband's love, would have the power to bring it back. In reality, this charm was a deadly poison, for it had been dipped in the centaur's blood, which was filled with the venom of the hydra.

For many years after this Hercules and his wife lived happily together, and Deianeira almost forgot about the centaur and his charm. But one day she became madly jealous.

At this time Hercules was on Mount Œta, where he had built an altar of rough stones. He was making preparations for a sacrifice. When everything was ready, he sent a messenger to Deianeira for his sacrificial robe.

Deianeira took the robe from the chest where it had been carefully laid away; and as she unfolded it, admiring its rich embroidery, which had been worked by her own hands a long time before, a small package fell from its folds to the floor. It was the centaur's charm.

"Oh, the centaur knew that I should need this one day," she said to herself. "Now I will win back the love of Hercules."

Then, entirely ignorant of the fact that she was using a powerful poison, Deianeira heated water in a kettle, put into it the contents of the package, and steeped the robe in the preparation thus made. As soon as it could be dried, she sent it to Hercules.

It seemed to Hercules that the messenger kept him waiting a long time. When the robe was brought at last, it had a queer look and a disagreeable odor, which reminded him of something, he could not remember what.

But it was getting late, so he took the robe hastily, and threw it over his shoulders. Instantly he felt as if he were enveloped in fire. Not knowing what he was doing, he threw down the altar, uprooted great trees, and seizing the messenger, hurled him over the top of Mount Œta into the sea.

When the torture of the poison began to grow less, Hercules realized that this was the end of all his labors. He made a funeral pile of the great trees that he had torn up in his agony, mounted it, spread out his lion's skin, and lay down with his head resting on his club.

Meanwhile his friends, seeing the commotion on Mount Œta, came to see what had happened. Hercules requested one of these friends—the one who had always been nearest to him—to set fire to the pile. With great sorrow this friend stepped forward and touched a burning torch to the logs.

Then a wonderful thing happened. Have you ever seen a serpent that had just cast its old, faded skin, and had come out in glossy new scales? A change like this came to Hercules.

For all those labors that he had accomplished, and all the suffering that he had passed through had developed in him a strong and courageous spirit, which could not die, but was immortal. All that could die was burned to ashes. But the immortal Hercules, the real Hercules, came out from the fire all shining and glorious.

Then a rainbow appeared in the sky. It was Iris's bridge. A moment after, the clouds overhead broke away, and Iris in all her shimmering colors, and Mercury with his winged shoes, came lightly down the rainbow bridge from heaven to earth.

They led the immortal Hercules, the shining new Hercules, to Mount Olympus, to live forever among the gods, with all who are truly brave.

T
HESEUS,
and his mother Æthra lived at the foot of a great lonesome mountain, at a place called Trœzen. One day, long before the earliest time that Theseus could remember, Ægeus, the father of Theseus, took Æthra out among the singing pines on the mountain side. There he lifted a huge rock, and buried underneath it his sword and sandals. Then rolling the rock back into its place, he told Æthra that when Theseus was strong enough to lift this rock, she might let him take the sword and sandals and go to his father at Athens. This was the last that Æthra had ever seen of Ægeus, but she knew that he was the king of Attica, and sat on the throne in the beautiful city of Athens.

At last the time came when Theseus had reached a man's full strength, and could lift the great rock. Then taking the sword and the sandals from under it, he fastened the sword at his side, put the sandals on his feet, and was soon ready to set out for Athens.

At that time the country between Trœzen and Athens was wild and rocky, and behind many of the rocks lurked giants and robbers, ready to spring out upon lonely travellers; but by sea, the way was much safer. Æthra's father, who was getting old and feeble, thought that Theseus had better go by sea, but Theseus said, "No! Have I not my father's good sword? I will go by land, and if I meet with any adventures, so much the better."