[Picture: Decorative chapter heading]
A hero means a great and glorious man, and the Greeks thought they had
many such among their forefathers--nay, that they were sons of gods, and
themselves, after many trials and troubles, became gods, since these
Greeks of old felt that "we are also His offspring."
Here is a story of one of these heroes. His mother was the daughter of
an Argive king, and was named Danae. He was named Perseus, and had
bright eyes and golden hair like the morning. When he was a little babe,
he and his mother were out at sea, and were cast on the isle of Seriphos,
where a fisherman named Dictys took care of them. A cruel tyrant named
Polydectes wanted Danae to be his wife, and, as she would not consent, he
shut her up in prison, saying that she should never come out till her son
Perseus had brought him the head of the Gorgon Medusa, thinking he must
be lost by the way. For the Gorgons were three terrible sisters, who
lived in the far west beyond the setting sun. Two of them were immortal,
and had dragon's wings and brazen claws and serpent hair, but their
sister Medusa was mortal, and so beautiful in the face that she had
boasted of being fairer than Pallas. To punish her presumption, her hair
was turned to serpents, and whosoever looked on her face, sad and lovely
as it was, would instantly be turned into stone.
But, for his mother's sake, young Perseus was resolved to dare this
terrible adventure, and his bravery brought help from the gods. The last
night before he was to set out Pallas came and showed him the images of
the three Gorgons, and bade him not concern himself about the two he
could not kill; but she gave him a mirror of polished brass, and told him
only to look at Medusa's reflection on it, for he would become a stone if
he beheld her real self. Then Mercury came and gave Perseus a sword of
light that would cleave all on whom it might fall, lent him his own
winged sandals, and told him to go first to the nymphs of the Graiae, the
Gorgons' sisters, and make them tell him the way.
So the young hero went by land and sea, still westwards, to the very
borders of the world, where stands the giant of the west, Atlas, holding
up the great vault of the skies on his broad shoulders. Beyond lay the
dreary land of twilight, on the shores of the great ocean that goes round
the world, and on the rocks on the shores sat the three old, old nymphs,
the Graiae, who had been born with grey hair, and had but one eye and one
tooth among them, which they passed to one another in turn. When the
first had seen the noble-looking youth speeding to them, she handed her
eye on, that the next sister might look at him; but Perseus was too
quick--he caught the one eye out of her hand, and then told the three
poor old nymphs that he did not want to hurt them, but that he must keep
their eye till they had told him the way to Medusa the Gorgon.
They told him the way, and, moreover, they gave him a mist-cap helmet
from Tartarus, which would make him invisible whenever he put it on, and
also a bag, which he slung on his back; and, thus armed, he went further
to the very bounds of the world, and he took his mirror in his hand, and
looked into it. There he saw the three Gorgon sisters, their necks
covered with scales like those of snakes (at least those of two), their
teeth like boar's tusks, their hands like brass, and their wings of gold;
but they were all fast asleep, and Perseus, still looking into his
mirror, cleft Medusa's neck with his all-cutting sword, and put her head
into the bag on his back without ever seeing her face. Her sisters awoke
and darted after him; but he put on his helmet of mist, and they lost
him, while he fled away on Mercury's swift-winged sandals. As he sped
eastward, he heard a voice asking whether he had really killed the
Gorgon. It was Atlas, the old heaven-supporting giant; and when Perseus
answered that he had, Atlas declared that he must see the head to
convince him. So Perseus put a hand over his shoulder, and drew it up by
its snaky hair; but no sooner had Atlas cast his eyes on it than he
turned into a mountain, his white beard and hair becoming the snowy peak,
and his garments the woods and forests. And there he still stands on the
west coast of Africa, and all our modern map-books are named after him.
[Picture: Perseus and Andromeda]
But Perseus' adventures were not over. As he flew on by the Lybian coast
he heard a sound of wailing, and beheld a beautiful maiden chained by her
hands and feet to a rock. He asked what had led her to this sad plight,
and she answered that she was Andromeda, the daughter of Cepheus and
Cassiopeia, king and queen of Ethiopia, and that her mother had foolishly
boasted that she was fairer than the Nereids, the fifty nymphs who are
the spirits of the waves. Neptune was so much displeased that he sent a
flood to overflow the land, and a sea-monster to devour the people and
cattle. In an oasis or isle of fertility in the middle of the Lybian
desert was a temple of Jupiter, there called Ammon, and the Ethiopians
had sent there to ask what to do. The oracle replied that the evil
should cease if Andromeda were given up to the monster. Cepheus had been
obliged to yield her up because of the outcries of the people, and here
she was waiting to be devoured. Perseus, of course, was ready. He heard
the monster coming, bade Andromeda close her eyes, and then held up the
Gorgon's head. In an instant her foe had become a rock, and he cleft the
maiden's chains, brought her back to her father and mother, who gave her
to him in marriage, and made a great feast; but here a former lover of
hers insulted them both so much, that Perseus was forced to show him the
Gorgon's face, and turn him into stone.
Then Perseus, with Andromeda, took his way to Seriphos. Indeed it was
high time that he should come back, for Polydectes, thinking that he must
long ago have been turned into a rock at the sight of Medusa, had tried
to take Danae by force to be his wife, and she had fled into a temple,
where no one dared to touch her, since it was always believed that the
gods punished such as dragged suppliants away from their temples. So
Perseus went to Polydectes, who was in the midst of a feast, and, telling
him that his bidding was done, held up the head of Medusa, and of course
the king and his whole court turned at once into stone. Now that the
work of the Gorgon's head was done, Perseus offered it to Pallas, who
placed it upon her shield, or, as it is always called, her aegis; and he
gave back the sword of light, cap of mist, and winged sandals to Mercury.
After this he returned to Argos, and there, at a game of quoits, he had
the misfortune to throw the quoit the wrong way, and hit his grandfather,
the king, so as to kill him. Perseus reigned afterwards, and, like all
the nobler Greek heroes, kept out the worship of Bacchus and its foul
orgies from his dominions; but he afterwards exchanged kingdoms with
another king, and built the city of Tiryas. He lived happily with
Andromeda, and had a great many children, whose descendants viewed him as
a demi-god, and had shrines to him, where they offered incense and
sacrifice; for they thought that he and all the family were commemorated
in the stars, and named the groups after them. You may find them all in
the North. Andromeda is a great square, as if large stars marked the
rivets of her chains on the rock; Perseus, a long curved cluster of
bright stars, as if climbing up to deliver her; her mother Cassiopeia
like a bright W, in which the Greeks traced a chair, where she sat with
her back to the rest to punish her for her boast. Cepheus is there too,
but he is smaller, and less easy to find. They are all in the North,
round the Great Bear, who was said by the Greeks to be a poor lady whom
Juno had turned into a bear, and who was almost killed unknowingly by her
own son when out hunting. He is the Little Bear, with the pole star in
his tail, and she is the Great Bear, always circling round him, and, as
the Greeks used to say, never dipping her muzzle into the ocean, because
she is so far north that she never sets.
This story of Perseus is a very old one, which all nations have loved to
tell, though with different names. You will be amused to think that the
old Cornish way of telling it is found in "Jack the Giant-Killer," who
had seven-leagued boots and a cap of mist, and delivered fair ladies from
their cruel foes.
[Picture: Cyclopean Wall]