Did you ever hear of the golden apples that grew in the garden of the
Hesperides? Ah, those were such apples as would bring a great price
by the bushel if any of them could be found growing in the orchards
of nowadays! But there is not, I suppose, a graft of that wonderful
fruit on a single tree in the wide world. Not so much as a seed of
these apples exists any longer.
And, even in the old, old, half-forgotten times, before the garden of
the Hesperides was overrun with weeds, a great many people doubted
whether there could be real trees that bore apples of solid gold upon
their branches. All had heard of them, but nobody remembered to have
seen any. Children, nevertheless, used to listen openmouthed to
stories of the golden apple-tree, and resolved to discover it when
they should be big enough. Adventurous young men, who desired to do
a braver thing than any of their fellows, set out in quest of this
fruit. Many of them returned no more: none of them brought back the
apples. No wonder that they found it impossible to gather them! It is
said that there was a dragon beneath the tree with a hundred terrible
heads, fifty of which were always on the watch while the other fifty
slept.
It was quite a common thing with young persons, when tired of too
much peace and rest, to go in search of the garden of the Hesperides.
And once the adventure was undertaken by a hero, who had enjoyed
very little peace or rest since he came into the world. At the time
of which I am going to speak he was wandering through the pleasant
land of Italy, with a mighty club in his hand, and a bow and quiver
slung across his shoulders. He was wrapt in the skin of the biggest
and fiercest lion that ever had been seen, and which he himself had
killed; and though, on the whole, he was kind and generous and
noble, there was a good deal of the lion’s fierceness in his heart.
As he went on his way he continually inquired whether that were the
right road to the famous garden. But none of the country people knew
anything about the matter, and many looked as if they would have
laughed at the question if the stranger had not carried so very big a
club.
So he journeyed on and on, still making the same inquiry, until at
last he came to the brink of a river, where some beautiful young
women sat twining wreaths of flowers.
“Can you tell me, pretty maidens,” asked the stranger, “whether this
is the right way to the garden of the Hesperides?”
On hearing the stranger’s question, they dropped all their flowers on
the grass, and gazed at him with astonishment.
“The garden of the Hesperides!” cried one. “We thought mortals had
been weary of seeking it after so many disappointments. And pray,
adventurous traveler, what do you want there?”
“A certain king, who is my cousin,” replied he, “has ordered me to
get him three of the golden apples.”
“And do you know,” asked the damsel who had first spoken, “that a
terrible dragon with a hundred heads keeps watch under the golden
apple-tree?”
“I know it well,” answered the stranger calmly. “But from my cradle
upward it has been my business, and almost my pastime, to deal with
serpents and dragons.”
The young women looked at his massive club, and at the shaggy lion’s
skin which he wore, and, likewise, at his heroic limbs and figure,
and they whispered to each other that the stranger appeared to be one
who might reasonably expect to perform deeds far beyond the might of
others.
“Go back!” cried they all; “go back to your own home! Your mother,
beholding you safe and sound, will shed tears of joy; and what can
she do more should you win ever so great a victory? No matter for the
golden apples! No matter for the king, your cruel cousin! We do not
wish the dragon with the hundred heads to eat you up.”
The stranger seemed to grow impatient at these remonstrances. He
carelessly lifted his mighty club, and let it fall upon a rock that
lay half-buried in the earth near by. With the force of that idle
blow the great rock was shattered all to pieces.
“Do you not believe,” said he, looking at the damsels with a smile,
“that such a blow would have crushed one of the dragon’s hundred
heads?”
“But the dragon of the Hesperides, you know,” observed one of the
damsels, “has a hundred heads!”
“Nevertheless,” replied the stranger, “I would rather fight two such
dragons than a single hydra.”
The traveler proceeded to tell how he chased a very swift stag for a
twelvemonth together, without ever stopping to take breath, and had
at last caught it by the antlers and carried it home alive. And he
had fought with a very odd race of people, half-horses and half-men,
and had put them all to death, from a sense of duty, in order that
their ugly figures might never be seen any more.
“Do you call that a wonderful exploit?” asked one of the young
maidens, with a smile. “Any clown in the country has done as much.”
“Perhaps you may have heard of me before,” said he modestly. “My name
is Hercules.”
“We have already guessed it,” replied the maidens, “for your
wonderful deeds are known all over the world. We do not think it
strange any longer that you should set out in quest of the golden
apples of the Hesperides. Come, sisters, let us crown the hero with
flowers!”
Then they flung beautiful wreaths over his stately head and mighty
shoulders, so that the lion’s skin was almost entirely covered with
roses. They took possession of his ponderous club, and so entwined it
about with the brightest, softest, and most fragrant blossoms that
not a finger’s breadth of its oaken substance could be seen. Lastly,
they joined hands and danced around him, chanting words which became
poetry of their own accord, and grew into a choral song in honor of
the illustrious Hercules.
“Dear maidens,” said he, when they paused to take breath, “now that
you know my name, will you not tell me how I am to reach the garden
of the Hesperides?”
“We will give you the best directions we can,” replied the damsels.
“You must go to the seashore and find out the Old One, and compel him
to inform you where the golden apples are to be found.”
“The Old One!” repeated Hercules, laughing at this odd name. “And
pray, who may the Old One be?”
“Why, the Old Man of the Sea, to be sure,” answered one of the
damsels. “You must talk with this Old Man of the Sea. He is a
seafaring person, and knows all about the garden of Hesperides,
for it is situated in an island, which he is often in the habit of
visiting.”
Hercules then asked whereabouts the Old One was most likely to be met
with. When the damsels had informed him he thanked them for all their
kindness.
But before he was out of hearing one of the maidens called after him.
“Keep fast hold of the Old One when you catch him!” cried she.
“Do not be astonished at anything that may happen. Only hold him
fast, and he will tell you what you wish to know.”
Hercules again thanked her, and pursued his way.
“We will crown him with the loveliest of our garlands,” said they,
“when he returns hither with the three golden apples after slaying
the dragon with a hundred heads.”
Hercules traveled constantly onward over hill and dale, and through
the solitary woods.
Hastening forward without ever pausing or looking behind, he, by and
by, heard the sea roaring at a distance. At this sound he increased
his speed, and soon came to a beach where the great surf-waves
tumbled themselves upon the hard sand in a long line of snowy foam.
At one end of the beach, however, there was a pleasant spot where
some green shrubbery clambered up a cliff, making its rocky face look
soft and beautiful. A carpet of verdant grass, largely intermixed
with sweet-smelling clover, covered the narrow space between the
bottom of the cliff and the sea. And what should Hercules espy there
but an old man fast asleep.
But was it really and truly an old man? Certainly, at first sight,
it looked very like one, but on closer inspection it rather seemed
to be some kind of a creature that lived in the sea. For on his legs
and arms there were scales such as fishes have; he was web-footed and
web-fingered, after the fashion of a duck; and his long beard, being
of a greenish tinge, had more the appearance of a turf of seaweed
than of an ordinary beard. Hercules, the instant he set eyes on this
strange figure, was convinced that it could be no other than the Old
One who was to direct him on his way.
Thanking his stars for the lucky accident of finding the old fellow
asleep, Hercules stole on tiptoe toward him, and caught him by the
arm and leg.
“Tell me,” cried he, before the Old One was well awake, “which is the
way to the garden of the Hesperides?”
The Old Man of the Sea awoke in a fright But his astonishment could
hardly have been greater than that of Hercules the next moment.
For, all of a sudden, the Old One seemed to disappear out of his
grasp, and he found himself holding a stag by the fore and hind
leg! But still he kept fast hold. Then the stag disappeared, and
in its stead there was a seabird, fluttering and screaming, while
Hercules clutched it by the wing and claw. But the bird could not
get away. Immediately afterward there was an ugly three-headed dog,
which growled and barked at Hercules, and snapped fiercely at the
hands by which he held him! But Hercules would not let him go. In
another minute, instead of the three-headed dog, what should appear
but Geryones, the six-legged man-monster, kicking at Hercules with
five of his legs in order to get the remaining one at liberty! But
Hercules held on. By and by no Geryones was there, but a huge snake
like one of those which Hercules had strangled in his babyhood, only
a hundred times as big. But Hercules was no whit disheartened, and
squeezed the great snake so tightly that he soon began to hiss with
pain.
You must understand that the Old Man of the Sea, though he generally
looked so like the wave-beaten figurehead of a vessel, had the power
of assuming any shape he pleased. When he found himself so roughly
seized by Hercules, he had been in hopes of putting him into such
surprise and terror by these magical transformations that the hero
would be glad to let him go. If Hercules had relaxed his grasp, the
Old One would certainly have plunged down to the very bottom of the
sea.
But as Hercules held on so stubbornly, and only squeezed the Old One
so much the tighter at every change of shape, and really put him to
no small torture, he finally thought it best to reappear in his own
figure.
“Pray what do you want with me?” cried the Old One as soon as he
could take breath.
“My name is Hercules!” roared the mighty stranger, “and you will
never get out of my clutch until you tell me the nearest way to the
garden of the Hesperides.”
When the old fellow heard who it was that had caught him, he saw with
half an eye that it would be necessary to tell him everything that he
wanted to know. Of course he had often heard of the fame of Hercules,
and of the wonderful things that he was constantly performing in
various parts of the earth, and how determined he always was to
accomplish whatever he undertook. He, therefore, made no more
attempts to escape, but told the hero how to find the garden of the
Hesperides.
“You must go on thus and thus,” said the Old Man of the Sea, “till
you come in sight of a very tall giant who holds the sky on his
shoulders. And the giant, if he happens to be in the humour, will
tell you exactly where the garden of the Hesperides lies.”
Thanking the Old Man of the Sea, and begging his pardon for having
squeezed him so roughly, the hero resumed his journey. He met with a
great many strange adventures, which would be well worth your hearing
if I had leisure to narrate them as minutely as they deserve.
Hercules continued his travels. He went to the land of Egypt, where
he was taken prisoner, and would have been put to death if he had not
slain the king of the country and made his escape. Passing through
the deserts of Africa, and going as fast as he could, he arrived
at last on the shore of the great ocean. And here, unless he could
walk on the crests of the billows, it seemed as if his journey must
needs be at an end.
Nothing was before him save the foaming, dashing, measureless ocean.
But suddenly, as he looked toward the horizon, he saw something, a
great way off, which he had not seen the moment before. It gleamed
very brightly, almost as you may have beheld the round, golden disk
of the sun when it rises or sets over the edge of the world. It
evidently drew nearer, for at every instant this wonderful object
became larger and more lustrous. At length it had come so nigh that
Hercules discovered it to be an immense cup or bowl made either of
gold or burnished brass. How it had got afloat upon the sea is more
than I can tell you. There it was at all events, rolling on the
tumultuous billows, which tossed it up and down, and heaved their
foamy tops against its sides, but without ever throwing their spray
over the brim.
“I have seen many giants in my time,” thought Hercules, “but never
one that would need to drink his wine, out of a cup like this.”
And, true enough, what a cup it must have been! It was as large--as
large--but, in short, I am afraid to say how immeasurably large it
was. To speak within bounds, it was ten times larger than a great
mill-wheel, and, all of metal as it was, it floated over the heaving
surges more lightly than an acorn-cup adown the brook. The waves
tumbled it onward until it grazed against the shore within a short
distance of the spot where Hercules was standing.
As soon as this happened he knew what was to be done.
It was just as clear as daylight that this marvelous cup had been set
adrift by some unseen power, and guided hitherward in order to carry
Hercules across the sea on his way to the garden of the Hesperides.
Accordingly, he clambered over the brim, and slid down on the inside.
The waves dashed with a pleasant and ringing sound against the
circumference of the hollow cup; it rocked lightly to and fro, and
the motion was so soothing that it speedily rocked Hercules into an
agreeable slumber.
His nap had probably lasted a good while, when the cup chanced to
graze against a rock, and, in consequence, immediately resounded and
reverberated through its golden or brazen substance a hundred times
as loudly as ever you heard a church-bell. The noise awoke Hercules,
who instantly started up and gazed around him, wondering whereabouts
he was. He was not long in discovering that the cup had floated
across a great part of the sea, and was approaching the shore of what
seemed to be an island. And on that island what do you think he saw?
No, you will never guess it--not if you were to try fifty thousand
times! It positively appears to me that this was the most marvelous
spectacle that had ever been seen by Hercules in the whole course of
his wonderful travels and adventures. It was a greater marvel than
the hydra with nine heads, which kept growing twice as fast as they
were cut off; greater than the six-legged man-monster; greater than
anything that was ever beheld by anybody before or since the days of
Hercules, or than anything that remains to be beheld by travelers in
all time to come. It was a giant!
But such an intolerably big giant! A giant as tall as a mountain; so
vast a giant that the clouds rested about his midst like a girdle,
and hung like a hoary beard from his chin, and flitted before his
huge eyes so that he could neither see Hercules nor the golden cup
in which he was voyaging. And, most wonderful of all, the giant held
up his great hands and appeared to support the sky, which, so far as
Hercules could discern through the clouds, was resting upon his head!
This does really seem almost too much to believe.
Meanwhile the bright cup continued to float onward, and finally
touched the strand. Just then a breeze wafted away the clouds from
before the giant’s visage, and Hercules beheld it, with all its
enormous features--eyes each of them as big as yonder lake, a nose a
mile long, and a mouth the same width.
Poor fellow! He had evidently stood there a long while. An ancient
forest had been growing and decaying around his feet, and oak trees
of six or seven centuries old had sprung from the acorns, and forced
themselves between his toes. The giant now looked down from the far
height of his great eyes, and, perceiving Hercules, roared out:
“Who are you, down at my feet, there? And whence do you come in that
little cup?”
“I am Hercules!” thundered back the hero. “And I am seeking for the
garden of the Hesperides!”
“Ho! ho! ho!” roared the giant, in a fit of immense laughter. “That
is a wise adventure, truly!”
“And why not?” cried Hercules. “Do you think I am afraid of the
dragon with a hundred heads?”
Just at this time, while they were talking together, some black
clouds gathered about the giant’s middle and burst into a tremendous
storm of thunder and lightning, causing such a pother that Hercules
found it impossible to distinguish a word. Only the giant’s
immeasurable legs were to be seen, standing up into the obscurity of
the tempest, and now and then a momentary glimpse of his whole figure
mantled in a volume of mist. He seemed to be speaking most of
the time, but his big, deep, rough voice chimed in with the
reverberations of the thunder-claps and rolled away over the hills
like them.
At last the storm swept over as suddenly as it had come. And there
again was the clear sky, and the weary giant holding it up, and the
pleasant sunshine beaming over his vast height and illuminating it
against the background of the sullen thunder-clouds. So far above the
shower had been his head that not a hair of it was moistened by the
raindrops.
When the giant could see Hercules still standing on the seashore, he
roared out to him anew:
“I am Atlas, the mightiest giant in the world! And I hold the sky
upon my head!”
“So I see,” answered Hercules. “But can you show me the way to the
garden of the Hesperides?”
“What do you want there?” asked the giant.
“I want three of the golden apples,” shouted Hercules, “for my
cousin, the king.”
“There is nobody but myself,” quoth the giant, “that can go to the
garden of the Hesperides and gather the golden apples. If it were not
for this little business of holding up the sky, I would make half a
dozen steps across the sea and get them for you.”
“You are very kind,” replied Hercules. “And cannot you rest the sky
upon a mountain?”
“None of them are quite high enough,” said Atlas, shaking his head.
“But if you were to take your stand on the summit of that nearest one
your head would be pretty nearly on a level with mine. You seem to be
a fellow of some strength. What if you should take my burden on your
shoulders while I do your errand for you?”
“Is the sky very heavy?” he inquired.
“Why, not particularly so at first,” answered the giant, shrugging
his shoulders, “but it gets to be a little burdensome after a
thousand years.”
“And how long a time,” asked the hero, “will it take you to get the
golden apples?”
“Oh, that will be done in a few moments!” cried Atlas. “I shall take
ten or fifteen miles at a stride, and be at the garden and back
again before your shoulders begin to ache.”
“Well, then,” answered Hercules, “I will climb the mountain behind
you, and relieve you of your burden.”
The truth is, Hercules had a kind heart of his own, and considered
that he should be doing the giant a favour by allowing him this
opportunity for a ramble. And, besides, he thought that it would be
still more for his own glory if he could boast of upholding the sky
than merely to do so ordinary a thing as to conquer a dragon with a
hundred heads. Accordingly, the sky was shifted from the shoulders of
Atlas, and placed upon those of Hercules.
When this was safely accomplished, the first thing that the giant
did was to stretch himself. Next, he slowly lifted one of his feet
out of the forest, that had grown up around it, then the other. Then
all at once he began to caper and leap and dance for joy at his
freedom, flinging himself nobody knows how high into the air, and
floundering down again with a shock that made the earth tremble. Then
he laughed--“ho! ho! ho!”--with a thunderous roar that was echoed
from the mountains far and near. When his joy had a little subsided,
he stepped into the sea--ten miles at the first stride, which brought
him mid-leg deep; and ten miles at the second, when the water came
just above his knees; and ten miles more at the third, by which he
was immersed nearly to his waist. This was the greatest depth of the
sea.
Hercules watched the giant until the gigantic shape faded entirely
out of view. And now Hercules began to consider what he should do in
case Atlas should be drowned in the sea, or if he were to be stung to
death by the dragon with the hundred heads, which guarded the golden
apples of the Hesperides. If any such misfortune were to happen, how
could he ever get rid of the sky? And, by the by, its weight began
already to be a little irksome to his head and shoulders.
“I really pity the poor giant,” thought Hercules. “If it wearies me
so much in ten minutes, how it must have wearied him in a thousand
years!”
I know not how long it was before, to his unspeakable joy, he beheld
the huge shape of the giant, like a cloud, on the far-off edge of the
sea. At his nearer approach Atlas held up his hand in which Hercules
could perceive three magnificent golden apples as big as pumpkins,
and all hanging from one branch.
“I am glad to see you again,” shouted Hercules when the giant was
within hearing. “So you have got the golden apples?”
“Certainly, certainly,” answered Atlas, “and very fair apples they
are. I took the finest that grew on the tree, I assure you. Ah, it is
a beautiful spot, that garden of the Hesperides! Yes, and the dragon
with a hundred heads is a sight worth any man’s seeing. After all,
you had better have gone for the apples yourself.”
“No matter,” replied Hercules. “You have had a pleasant ramble, and
have done the business as well as I could. I heartily thank you for
your trouble. And now, as I have a long way to go, and am rather in
haste, and as the king, my cousin, is anxious to receive the golden
apples, will you be kind enough to take the sky off my shoulders
again?”
“Why, as to that,” said the giant, chucking the golden apples into
the air twenty miles high or thereabouts, and catching them as they
came down--“as to that, my good friend, I consider you a little
unreasonable. Cannot I carry the golden apples to the king, your
cousin, much quicker than you could? As his majesty is in such a
hurry to get them, I promise you to take my longest strides. And,
besides, I have no fancy for burdening myself with the sky just now.”
Here Hercules grew impatient, and gave a great shrug of his
shoulders. It being now twilight, you might have seen two or three
stars tumble out of their places. Everybody on earth looked upward in
affright, thinking that the sky might be going to fall next.
“Oh, that will never do!” cried Giant Atlas with a great roar of
laughter. “I have not let fall so many stars within the last five
centuries. By the time you have stood there as long as I did you will
begin to learn patience.”
“What!” shouted Hercules, very wrathfully, “do you intend to make me
bear this burden forever?”
“We will see about that one of these days,” answered the giant. “At
all events, you ought not to complain if you have to bear it the next
hundred years, or perhaps the next thousand. I bore it a good while
longer, in spite of the backache. Well, then, after a thousand years,
if I happen to feel in the mood, we may possibly shift about again.
Posterity will talk of you, I warrant it.”
“Pish! a fig for its talk!” cried Hercules, with another hitch of his
shoulders. “Just take the sky upon your head one instant, will you? I
want to make a cushion of my lion’s skin for the weight to rest upon.
It really chafes me, and will cause unnecessary inconvenience in so
many centuries as I am to stand here.”
“That’s no more than fair, and I’ll do it,” quoth the giant. “For
just five minutes, then, I’ll take back the sky. Only for five
minutes, recollect. I have no idea of spending another thousand years
as I spent the last. Variety is the spice of life, say I.”
Ah, the thick-witted old rogue of a giant! He threw down the golden
apples, and received back the sky from the head and shoulders of
Hercules upon his own, where it rightly belonged. And Hercules picked
up the three golden apples that were as big or bigger than pumpkins,
and straightway set out on his journey homeward, without paying the
slightest heed to the thundering tones of the giant, who bellowed
after him to come back. Another forest sprang up around his feet and
grew ancient there, and again might be seen oak-trees of six or seven
centuries old, that had waxed thus aged betwixt his enormous toes.
And there stands the giant to this day, or, at any rate, there stands
a mountain as tall as he, and which bears his name; and when the
thunder rumbles about its summit we may imagine it to be the voice of
Giant Atlas bellowing after Hercules.
--_Abridged._
_OCTOBER_--ORCHARD OF THE YEAR!
Bend thy boughs to the earth, redolent of glowing fruit! Ripened
seeds shake in their pods. Apples drop in the stillest hours. Leaves
begin to let go when no wind is out, and swing in long waverings to
the earth, which they touch without sound, and lie looking up, till
winds rake them, and heap them in fence corners. When the gales come
through the trees, the yellow leaves trail, like sparks at night
behind the flying engine. The woods are thinner so that we can see
the leaves plainer, as we lie dreaming on the yet warm moss of the
singing spring. The days are calm. The nights are tranquil. The
year’s work is done. She walks in gorgeous apparel, looking upon her
long labour, and her serene eye saith, “It is good.”