behold, being as long as the blade of a penknife), and sent the scabbard
whirling over the heads of the multitude. His speech was followed by an
uproar of applause, as its patriotism and self-devotion unquestionably
deserved; and the shouts and clapping of hands would have been greatly
prolonged had they not been rendered quite inaudible by a deep
respiration, vulgarly called a snore, from the sleeping Hercules.
It was finally decided that the whole nation of Pygmies should set to
work to destroy Hercules; not, be it understood, from any doubt that a
single champion would be capable of putting him to the sword, but
because he was a public enemy, and all were desirous of sharing in the
glory of his defeat. There was a debate whether the national honor did
not demand that a herald should be sent with a trumpet, to stand over
the ear of Hercules, and, after blowing a blast right into it, to defy
him to the combat by formal proclamation. But two or three venerable and
sagacious Pygmies, well versed in state affairs, gave it as their
opinion that war already existed, and that it was their rightful
privilege to take the enemy by surprise. Moreover, if awakened, and
allowed to get upon his feet, Hercules might happen to do them a
mischief before he could be beaten down again. For, as these sage
counsellors remarked, the stranger's club was really very big, and had
rattled like a thunderbolt against the skull of Antaeus. So the Pygmies
resolved to set aside all foolish punctilios, and assail their
antagonist at once.
Accordingly, all the fighting men of the nation took their weapons, and
went boldly up to Hercules, who still lay fast asleep, little dreaming
of the harm which the Pygmies meant to do him. A body of twenty thousand
archers marched in front, with their little bows all ready, and the
arrows on the string. The same number were ordered to clamber upon
Hercules, some with spades to dig his eyes out, and others with bundles
of hay, and all manner of rubbish, with which they intended to plug up
his mouth and nostrils, so that he might perish for lack of breath.
These last, however, could by no means perform their appointed duty;
inasmuch as the enemy's breath rushed out of his nose in an obstreperous
hurricane and whirlwind, which blew the Pygmies away as fast as they
came nigh. It was found necessary, therefore, to hit upon some other
method of carrying on the war.
After holding a council, the captains ordered their troops to collect
sticks, straws, dry weeds, and whatever combustible stuff they could
find, and make a pile of it, heaping it high around the head of
Hercules. As a great many thousand Pygmies were employed in this task,
they soon brought together several bushels of inflammatory matter, and
raised so tall a heap, that, mounting on its summit, they were quite
upon a level with the sleeper's face. The archers, meanwhile, were
stationed within bow-shot, with orders to let fly at Hercules the
instant that he stirred. Everything being in readiness, a torch was
applied to the pile, which immediately burst into flames, and soon waxed
hot enough to roast the enemy, had he but chosen to lie still. A Pygmy,
you know, though so very small, might set the world on fire, just as
easily as a Giant could; so that this was certainly the very best way of
dealing with their foe, provided they could have kept him quiet while
the conflagration was going forward.
But no sooner did Hercules begin to be scorched, than up he started,
with his hair in a red blaze.
"What's all this?" he cried, bewildered with sleep, and staring about
him as if he expected to see another Giant.
At that moment the twenty thousand archers twanged their bowstrings, and
the arrows came whizzing, like so many winged mosquitoes, right into the
face of Hercules. But I doubt whether more than half a dozen of them
punctured the skin, which was remarkably tough, as you know the skin of
a hero has good need to be.
"Villain!" shouted all the Pygmies at once. "You have killed the Giant
Antaeus, our great brother, and the ally of our nation. We declare bloody
war against you and will slay you on the spot."
Surprised at the shrill piping of so many little voices, Hercules, after
putting out the conflagration of his hair, gazed all round about, but
could see nothing. At last, however, looking narrowly on the ground, he
espied the innumerable assemblage of Pygmies at his feet. He stooped
down, and taking up the nearest one between his thumb and finger, set
him on the palm of his left hand, and held him at a proper distance for
examination. It chanced to be the very identical Pygmy who had spoken
from the top of the toadstool, and had offered himself as a champion to
meet Hercules in single combat.
"What in the world, my little fellow," ejaculated Hercules, "may you
be?"
"I am your enemy," answered the valiant Pygmy, in his mightiest squeak.
"You have slain the enormous Antaeus, our brother by the mother's side,
and for ages the faithful ally of our illustrious nation. We are
determined to put you to death; and for my own part, I challenge you to
instant battle, on equal ground."
Hercules was so tickled with the Pygmy's big words and warlike gestures,
that he burst into a great explosion of laughter, and almost dropped the
poor little mite of a creature off the palm of his hand, through the
ecstasy and convulsion of his merriment.
"Upon my word," cried he, "I thought I had seen wonders before
to-day,--hydras with nine heads, stags with golden horns, six-legged
men, three-headed dogs, giants with furnaces in their stomachs, and
nobody knows what besides. But here, on the palm of my hand, stands a
wonder that outdoes them all! Your body, my little friend, is about the
size of an ordinary man's finger. Pray, how big may your soul be?"
"As big as your own!" said the Pygmy.
Hercules was touched with the little man's dauntless courage, and could
not help acknowledging such a brotherhood with him as one hero feels for
another.
"My good little people," said he, making a low obeisance to the grand
nation, "not for all the world would I do an intentional injury to such
brave fellows as you! Your hearts seem to me so exceedingly great, that,
upon my honor, I marvel how your small bodies can contain them. I sue
for peace, and, as a condition of it, will take five strides, and be out
of your kingdom at the sixth. Good-by. I shall pick my steps carefully,
for fear of treading upon some fifty of you, without knowing it. Ha, ha,
ha! Ho, ho, ho! For once, Hercules acknowledges himself vanquished."
Some writers say, that Hercules gathered up the whole race of Pygmies in
his lion's skin, and carried them home to Greece, for the children of
King Eurystheus to play with. But this is a mistake. He left them, one
and all, within their own territory, where, for aught I can tell, their
descendants are alive to the present day, building their little houses,
cultivating their little fields, spanking their little children, waging
their little warfare with the cranes, doing their little business,
whatever it may be, and reading their little histories of ancient times.
In those histories, perhaps, it stands recorded, that, a great many
centuries ago, the valiant Pygmies avenged the death of the Giant Antaeus
by scaring away the mighty Hercules.
The Dragon's Teeth
Cadmus, Phoenix, and Cilix, the three sons of King Agenor, and their
little sister Europa (who was a very beautiful child) were at play
together, near the sea-shore, in their father's kingdom of Phoenicia.
They had rambled to some distance from the palace where their parents
dwelt, and were now in a verdant meadow, on one side of which lay the
sea, all sparkling and dimpling in the sunshine, and murmuring gently
against the beach. The three boys were very happy, gathering flowers,
and twining them into garlands, with which they adorned the little
Europa. Seated on the grass, the child was almost hidden under an
abundance of buds and blossoms, whence her rosy face peeped merrily out,
and, as Cadmus said, was the prettiest of all the flowers.
Just then, there came a splendid butterfly, fluttering along the meadow;
and Cadmus, Phoenix, and Cilix set off in pursuit of it, crying out
that it was a flower with wings. Europa, who was a little wearied with
playing all day long, did not chase the butterfly with her brothers, but
sat still where they had left her, and closed her eyes. For a while, she
listened to the pleasant murmur of the sea, which was like a voice
saying "Hush!" and bidding her go to sleep. But the pretty child, if she
slept at all, could not have slept more than a moment, when she heard
something trample on the grass, not far from her, and peeping out from
the heap of flowers, beheld a snow-white bull.
And whence could this bull have come? Europa and her brothers had been a
long time playing in the meadow, and had seen no cattle, nor other
living thing, either there or on the neighboring hills.
[Illustration: CADMUS SOWING THE DRAGON'S TEETH]
"Brother Cadmus!" cried Europa, starting up out of the midst of the
roses and lilies. "Phoenix! Cilix! Where are you all? Help! Help! Come
and drive away this bull!"
But her brothers were too far off to hear; especially as the fright took
away Europa's voice, and hindered her from calling very loudly. So there
she stood, with her pretty mouth wide open, as pale as the white lilies
that were twisted among the other flowers in her garlands.
Nevertheless, it was the suddenness with which she had perceived the
bull, rather than anything frightful in his appearance, that caused
Europa so much alarm. On looking at him more attentively, she began to
see that he was a beautiful animal, and even fancied a particularly
amiable expression in his face. As for his breath,--the breath of
cattle, you know, is always sweet,--it was as fragrant as if he had been
grazing on no other food than rosebuds, or, at least, the most delicate
of clover-blossoms. Never before did a bull have such bright and tender
eyes, and such smooth horns of ivory, as this one. And the bull ran
little races, and capered sportively around the child; so that she quite
forgot how big and strong he was, and, from the gentleness and
playfulness of his actions, soon came to consider him as innocent a
creature as a pet lamb.
Thus, frightened as she at first was, you might by and by have seen
Europa stroking the bull's forehead with her small white hand, and
taking the garlands off her own head to hang them on his neck and ivory
horns. Then she pulled up some blades of grass, and he ate them out of
her hand, not as if he were hungry, but because he wanted to be friends
with the child, and took pleasure in eating what she had touched. Well,
my stars! was there ever such a gentle, sweet, pretty, and amiable
creature as this bull, and ever such a nice playmate for a little girl?
When the animal saw (for the bull had so much intelligence that it is
really wonderful to think of), when he saw that Europa was no longer
afraid of him, he grew overjoyed, and could hardly contain himself for
delight. He frisked about the meadow, now here, now there, making
sprightly leaps, with as little effort as a bird expends in hopping from
twig to twig. Indeed, his motion was as light as if he were flying
through the air, and his hoofs seemed hardly to leave their print in the
grassy soil over which he trod. With his spotless hue, he resembled a
snow-drift, wafted along by the wind. Once be galloped so far away that
Europa feared lest she might never see him again; so, setting up her
childish voice, she called him back.
"Come back, pretty creature!" she cried. "Here is a nice
clover-blossom."
And then it was delightful to witness the gratitude of this amiable
bull, and how he was so full of joy and thankfulness that he capered
higher than ever. He came running, and bowed his head before Europa, as
if he knew her to be a king's daughter, or else recognized the important
truth that a little girl is everybody's queen. And not only did the bull
bend his neck, he absolutely knelt down at her feet, and made such
intelligent nods, and other inviting gestures, that Europa understood
what he meant just as well as if he had put it in so many words.
"Come, dear child," was what he wanted to say, "let me give you a ride
on my back."
At the first thought of such a thing, Europa drew back. But then she
considered in her wise little head that there could be no possible harm
in taking just one gallop on the back of this docile and friendly
animal, who would certainly set her down the very instant she desired
it. And how it would surprise her brothers to see her riding across the
green meadow! And what merry times they might have, either taking turns
for a gallop, or clambering on the gentle creature, all four children
together, and careering round the field with shouts of laughter that
would be heard as far off as King Agenor's palace!
"I think I will do it," said the child to herself.
And, indeed, why not? She cast a glance around, and caught a glimpse of
Cadmus, Phoenix, and Cilix, who were still in pursuit of the
butterfly, almost at the other end of the meadow. It would be the
quickest way of rejoining them, to get upon the white bull's back. She
came a step nearer to him, therefore; and--sociable creature that he
was--he showed so much joy at this mark of her confidence, that the
child could not find it in her heart to hesitate any longer. Making one
bound (for this little princess was as active as a squirrel), there sat
Europa on the beautiful bull, holding an ivory horn in each hand, lest
she should fall off.
"Softly, pretty bull, softly!" she said, rather frightened at what she
had done. "Do not gallop too fast."
Having got the child on his back, the animal gave a leap into the air,
and came down so like a feather that Europa did not know when his hoofs
touched the ground. He then began a race to that part of the flowery
plain where her three brothers were, and where they had just caught
their splendid butterfly. Europa screamed with delight; and Phoenix,
Cilix, and Cadmus stood gaping at the spectacle of their sister mounted
on a white bull, not knowing whether to be frightened or to wish the
same good luck for themselves. The gentle and innocent creature (for who
could possibly doubt that he was so?) pranced round among the children
as sportively as a kitten. Europa all the while looked down upon her
brothers, nodding and laughing, but yet with a sort of stateliness in
her rosy little face. As the bull wheeled about to take another gallop
across the meadow, the child waved her hand, and said, "Good-by,"
playfully pretending that she was now bound on a distant journey, and
might not see her brothers again for nobody could tell how long.
"Good-by," shouted Cadmus, Phoenix, and Cilix, all in one breath.
But, together with her enjoyment of the sport, there was still a little
remnant of fear in the child's heart; so that her last look at the three
boys was a troubled one, and made them feel as if their dear sister were
really leaving them forever. And what do you think the snowy bull did
next? Why, he set off, as swift as the wind, straight down to the
sea-shore, scampered across the sand, took an airy leap, and plunged
right in among the foaming billows. The white spray rose in a shower
over him and little Europa, and fell spattering down upon the water.
Then what a scream of terror did the poor child send forth! The three
brothers screamed manfully, likewise, and ran to the shore as fast as
their legs would carry them, with Cadmus at their head. But it was too
late. When they reached the margin of the sand, the treacherous animal
was already far away in the wide blue sea, with only his snowy head and
tail emerging, and poor little Europa between them, stretching out one
hand towards her dear brothers, while she grasped the bull's ivory horn
with the other. And there stood Cadmus, Phoenix, and Cilix, gazing at
this sad spectacle, through their tears, until they could no longer
distinguish the bull's snowy head from the white-capped billows that
seemed to boil up out of the sea's depths around him. Nothing more was
ever seen of the white bull,--nothing more of the beautiful child.
This was a mournful story, as you may well think, for the three boys to
carry home to their parents. King Agenor, their father, was the ruler of
the whole country; but he loved his little daughter Europa better than
his kingdom, or than all his other children, or than anything else in
the world. Therefore, when Cadmus and his two brothers came crying home,
and told him how that a white bull had carried off their sister, and
swam with her over the sea, the king was quite beside himself with grief
and rage. Although it was now twilight, and fast growing dark, he bade
them set out instantly in search of her.
"Never shall you see my face again," he cried, "unless you bring me back
my little Europa, to gladden me with her smiles and her pretty ways.
Begone, and enter my presence no more, till you come leading her by the
hand."
As King Agenor said this, his eyes flashed fire (for he was a very
passionate king), and he looked so terribly angry that the poor boys did
not even venture to ask for their suppers, but slunk away out of the
palace, and only paused on the steps a moment to consult whither they
should go first. While they were standing there all in dismay, their
mother, Queen Telephassa (who happened not to be by when they told the
story to the king), came hurrying after them, and said that she too
would go in quest of her daughter.
"Oh no, mother!" cried the boys. "The night is dark, and there is no
knowing what troubles and perils we may meet with."
"Alas! my dear children," answered poor Queen Telephassa, weeping
bitterly, "that is only another reason why I should go with you. If I
should lose you, too, as well as my little Europa, what would become of
me?"
"And let me go likewise!" said their playfellow Thasus, who came running
to join them.
Thasus was the son of a sea-faring person in the neighborhood; he had
been brought up with the young princes, and was their intimate friend,
and loved Europa very much; so they consented that he should accompany
them. The whole party, therefore, set forth together; Cadmus, Phoenix,
Cilix, and Thasus clustered round Queen Telephassa, grasping her skirts,
and begging her to lean upon their shoulders whenever she felt weary. In
this manner they went down the palace steps, and began a journey which
turned out to be a great deal longer than they dreamed of. The last that
they saw of King Agenor, he came to the door, with a servant holding a
torch beside him, and called after them into the gathering darkness:--
"Remember! Never ascend these steps again without the child!"
"Never!" sobbed Queen Telephassa; and the three brothers and Thasus
answered, "Never! Never! Never! Never!"
And they kept their word. Year after year King Agenor sat in the
solitude of his beautiful palace, listening in vain for their returning
footsteps, hoping to hear the familiar voice of the queen, and the
cheerful talk of his sons and their playfellow Thasus, entering the door
together, and the sweet, childish accents of little Europa in the midst
of them. But so long a time went by, that, at last, if they had really
come, the king would not have known that this was the voice of
Telephassa, and these the younger voices that used to make such joyful
echoes when the children were playing about the palace. We must now
leave King Agenor to sit on his throne, and must go along with Queen
Telephassa and her four youthful companions.
They went on and on, and travelled a long way, and passed over mountains
and rivers, and sailed over seas. Here, and there, and everywhere, they
made continual inquiry if any person could tell them what had become of
Europa. The rustic people, of whom they asked this question, paused a
little while from their labors in the field, and looked very much
surprised. They thought it strange to behold a woman in the garb of a
queen (for Telephassa, in her haste, had forgotten to take off her crown
and her royal robes), roaming about the country, with four lads around
her, on such an errand as this seemed to be. But nobody could give them
any tidings of Europa; nobody had seen a little girl dressed like a
princess, and mounted on a snow-white bull, which galloped as swiftly as
the wind.
I cannot tell you how long Queen Telephassa, and Cadmus, Phoenix, and
Cilix, her three sons, and Thasus, their playfellow, went wandering
along the highways and bypaths, or through the pathless wildernesses of
the earth, in this manner. But certain it is, that, before they reached
any place of rest, their splendid garments were quite worn out. They all
looked very much travel-stained, and would have had the dust of many
countries on their shoes, if the streams, through which they had waded,
had not washed it all away. When they had been gone a year, Telephassa
threw away her crown, because it chafed her forehead.
"It has given me many a headache," said the poor queen, "and it cannot
cure my heartache."
As fast as their princely robes got torn and tattered, they exchanged
them for such mean attire as ordinary people wore. By and by they came
to have a wild and homeless aspect; so that you would sooner have taken
them for a gypsy family than a queen and three princes and a young
nobleman, who had once a palace for their home, and a train of servants
to do their bidding. The four boys grew up to be tall young men, with
sunburnt faces. Each of them girded on a sword, to defend themselves
against the perils of the way. When the husbandmen, at whose farm-houses
they sought hospitality, needed their assistance in the harvest-field,
they gave it willingly; and Queen Telephassa (who had done no work in
her palace, save to braid silk threads with golden ones) came behind
them to bind the sheaves. If payment was offered, they shook their
heads, and only asked for tidings of Europa.
"There are bulls enough in my pasture," the old farmer would reply; "but
I never heard of one like this you tell me of. A snow-white bull with a
little princess on his back! Ho! ho! I ask your pardon, good folks; but
there was never such a sight seen hereabouts."
At last, when his upper lip began to have the down on it, Phoenix grew
weary of rambling hither and thither to no purpose. So, one day, when
they happened to be passing through a pleasant and solitary tract of
country, he sat himself down on a heap of moss.
"I can go no farther," said Phoenix. "It is a mere foolish waste of
life, to spend it, as we do, in always wandering up and down, and never
coming to any home at nightfall. Our sister is lost, and never will be
found. She probably perished in the sea; or, to whatever shore the white
bull may have carried her; it is now so many years ago, that there would
be neither love nor acquaintance between us should we meet again. My
father has forbidden us to return to his palace; so I shall build me a
hut of branches, and dwell here."
"Well, son Phoenix," said Telephassa, sorrowfully, "you have grown to
be a man, and must do as you judge best. But, for my part, I will still
go in quest of my poor child."
"And we three will go along with you!" cried Cadmus and Cilix, and their
faithful friend Thasus.
But, before setting out, they all helped Phoenix to build a
habitation. When completed, it was a sweet rural bower, roofed overhead
with an arch of living boughs. Inside there were two pleasant rooms, one
of which had a soft heap of moss for a bed, while the other was
furnished with a rustic seat or two, curiously fashioned out of the
crooked roots of trees. So comfortable and homelike did it seem, that
Telephassa and her three companions could not help sighing, to think
that they must still roam about the world, instead of spending the
remainder of their lives in some such cheerful abode as they had here
built for Phoenix. But, when they bade him farewell, Phoenix shed
tears, and probably regretted that he was no longer to keep them
company.