imaginable, in order to throw Jason off his guard, "you are excessively
welcome to my kingdom. Judging by your dress, you must have travelled a
long distance; for it is not the fashion to wear leopard skins in this
part of the world. Pray what may I call your name, and where did you
receive your education?"
"My name is Jason," answered the young stranger. "Ever since my
infancy, I have dwelt in the cave of Chiron the Centaur. He was my
instructor, and taught me music, and horsemanship, and how to cure
wounds, and likewise how to inflict wounds with my weapons."
"I have heard of Chiron the schoolmaster," replied King Pelias, "and
how that there is an immense deal of learning and wisdom in his head,
although it happens to be set on a horse's body. It gives me great
delight to see one of his scholars at my court. But, to test how much
you have profited under so excellent a teacher, will you allow me to
ask you a single question?"
"I do not pretend to be very wise," said Jason. "But ask me what you
please, and I will answer to the best of my ability."
Now King Pelias meant cunningly to entrap the young man, and to make
him say something that should be the cause of mischief and destruction
to himself. So, with a crafty and evil smile upon his face, he spoke as
follows:--
"What would you do, brave Jason," asked he, "if there were a man in the
world, by whom, as you had reason to believe, you were doomed to be
ruined and slain--what would you do, I say, if that man stood before
you, and in your power?"
When Jason saw the malice and wickedness which King Pelias could not
prevent from gleaming out of his eyes, he probably guessed that the
king had discovered what he came for, and that he intended to turn his
own words against himself. Still he scorned to tell a falsehood. Like
an upright and honorable prince, as he was, he determined to speak out
the real truth. Since the king had chosen to ask him the question, and
since Jason had promised him an answer, there was no right way, save to
tell him precisely what would be the most prudent thing to do, if he
had his worst enemy in his power.
Therefore, after a moment's consideration, he spoke up, with a firm and
manly voice.
"I would send such a man," said he, "in quest of the Golden Fleece!"
This enterprise, you will understand, was, of all others, the most
difficult and dangerous in the world. In the first place, it would be
necessary to make a long voyage through unknown seas. There was hardly
a hope, or a possibility, that any young man who should undertake this
voyage would either succeed in obtaining the Golden Fleece, or would
survive to return home, and tell of the perils he had run. The eyes of
King Pelias sparkled with joy, therefore, when he heard Jason's reply.
"Well said, wise man with the one sandal!" cried he. "Go, then, and at
the peril of your life, bring me back the Golden Fleece."
"I go," answered Jason, composedly. "If I fail, you need not fear that
I will ever come back to trouble you again. But if I return to Iolchos
with the prize, then, King Pelias, you must hasten down from your lofty
throne, and give me your crown and scepter."
"That I will," said the king, with a sneer. "Meantime, I will keep them
very safely for you."
The first thing that Jason thought of doing, after he left the king's
presence, was to go to Dodona, and inquire of the Talking Oak what
course it was best to pursue. This wonderful tree stood in the center
of an ancient wood. Its stately trunk rose up a hundred feet into the
air, and threw a broad and dense shadow over more than an acre of
ground. Standing beneath it, Jason looked up among the knotted branches
and green leaves, and into the mysterious heart of the old tree, and
spoke aloud, as if he were addressing some person who was hidden in the
depths of the foliage.
[Illustration: "What shall I do?" said he.]
"What shall I do," said he, "in order to win the Golden Fleece?"
At first there was a deep silence, not only within the shadow of the
Talking Oak, but all through the solitary wood. In a moment or two,
however, the leaves of the oak began to stir and rustle, as if a
gentle breeze were wandering amongst them, although the other trees
of the wood were perfectly still. The sound grew louder, and became
like the roar of a high wind. By and by, Jason imagined that he could
distinguish words, but very confusedly, because each separate leaf of
the tree seemed to be a tongue, and the whole myriad of tongues were
babbling at once. But the noise waxed broader and deeper, until it
resembled a tornado sweeping through the oak, and making one great
utterance out of the thousand and thousand of little murmurs which each
leafy tongue had caused by its rustling. And now, though it still had
the tone of a mighty wind roaring among the branches, it was also like
a deep bass voice, speaking, as distinctly as a tree could be expected
to speak, the following words:--
"Go to Argus, the ship builder, and bid him build a galley with fifty
oars."
Then the voice melted again into the indistinct murmur of the rustling
leaves, and died gradually away. When it was quite gone, Jason felt
inclined to doubt whether he had actually heard the words, or whether
his fancy had not shaped them out of the ordinary sound made by a
breeze, while passing through the thick foliage of the tree.
But on inquiry among the people of Iolchos, he found that there was
really a man in the city, by the name of Argus, who was a very skilful
builder of vessels. This showed some intelligence in the oak; else
how should it have known that any such person existed? At Jason's
request, Argus readily consented to build him a galley so big that it
should require fifty strong men to row it; although no vessel of such
a size and burden had heretofore been seen in the world. So the head
carpenter, and all his journeymen and apprentices, began their work and
for a good while afterwards, there they were, busily employed, hewing
out the timbers, and making a great clatter with their hammers; until
the new ship, which was called the _Argo_, seemed to be quite ready
for the sea. And, as the Talking Oak had already given him such good
advice, Jason thought that it would not be amiss to ask for a little
more. He visited it again, therefore, and standing beside its huge,
rough trunk, inquired what he should do next.
This time, there was no such universal quivering of the leaves,
throughout the whole tree, as there had been before. But after a while,
Jason observed that the foliage of a great branch which stretched above
his head had begun to rustle, as if the wind were stirring that one
bough, while all the other boughs of the oak were at rest.
"Cut me off!" said the branch, as soon as it could speak distinctly;
"cut me off! cut me off! and carve me into a figure head for your
galley."
Accordingly, Jason took the branch at its word, and lopped it off the
tree. A carver in the neighborhood engaged to make the figure head. He
was a tolerably good workman, and had already carved several figure
heads, in what he intended for feminine shapes, and looking pretty much
like those which we see nowadays stuck up under a vessel's bowsprit,
with great staring eyes, that never wink at the dash of the spray. But
(what was very strange) the carver found that his hand was guided by
some unseen power, and by a skill beyond his own, and that his tools
shaped out an image which he had never dreamed of. When the work was
finished, it turned out to be the figure of a beautiful woman, with
a helmet on her head, from beneath which the long ringlets fell down
upon her shoulders. On the left arm was a shield, and in its center
appeared a lifelike representation of the head of Medusa with the snaky
locks. The right arm was extended, as if pointing onward. The face of
this wonderful statue, though not angry or forbidding, was so grave
and majestic, that perhaps you might call it severe; and as for the
mouth, it seemed just ready to unclose its lips, and utter words of the
deepest wisdom.
Jason was delighted with the oaken image, and gave the carver no rest
until it was completed, and set up where a figure head has always
stood, from that time to this, in the vessel's prow.
"And now," cried he, as he stood gazing at the calm, majestic face of
the statue, "I must go to the Talking Oak, and inquire what next to do."
"There is no need of that, Jason," said a voice which, though it was
far lower, reminded him of the mighty tones of the great oak. "When you
desire good advice, you can seek it of me."
Jason had been looking straight into the face of the image when these
words were spoken. But he could hardly believe either his ears or his
eyes. The truth was, however, that the oaken lips had moved, and,
to all appearance, the voice had proceeded from the statue's mouth.
Recovering a little from his surprise, Jason bethought himself that the
image had been carved out of the wood of the Talking Oak, and that,
therefore, it was really no great wonder, but, on the contrary, the
most natural thing in the world, that it should possess the faculty
of speech. It would have been very odd, indeed, if it had not. But
certainly it was a great piece of good fortune that he should be able
to carry so wise a block of wood along with him in his perilous voyage.
"Tell me, wonderous image," exclaimed Jason,--"since you inherit the
wisdom of the Speaking Oak of Dodona, whose daughter you are,--tell me,
where shall I find fifty bold youths, who will take each of them an oar
of my galley? They must have sturdy arms to row, and brave hearts to
encounter perils, or we shall never win the Golden Fleece."
"Go," replied the oaken image, "go, summon all the heroes of Greece."
And, in fact, considering what a great deed was to be done, could any
advice be wiser than this which Jason received from the figure head of
his vessel? He lost no time in sending messages to all the cities, and
making known to the whole people of Greece, that Prince Jason, the son
of King Æson, was going in quest of the Fleece of Gold, and that he
desired the help of forty-nine of the bravest and strongest young men
alive, to row his vessel and share his dangers. And Jason himself would
be the fiftieth.
At this news, the adventurous youths, all over the country, began to
bestir themselves. Some of them had already fought with giants, and
slain dragons; and the younger ones, who had not yet met with such
good fortune, thought it a shame to have lived so long without getting
astride of a flying serpent, or sticking their spears into a Chimæra,
or, at least, thrusting their right arms down a monstrous lion's
throat. There was a fair prospect that they would meet with plenty of
such adventures before finding the Golden Fleece. As soon as they could
furbish up their helmets and shields, therefore, and gird on their
trusty swords, they came thronging to Iolchos, and clambered on board
the new galley. Shaking hands with Jason, they assured him that they
did not care a pin for their lives, but would help row the vessel to
the remotest edge of the world, and as much farther as he might think
it best to go.
Many of these brave fellows had been educated by Chiron, the
four-footed pedagogue, and were therefore old schoolmates of Jason,
and knew him to be a lad of spirit. The mighty Hercules, whose
shoulders afterwards held up the sky, was one of them. And there
were Castor and Pollux, the twin brothers, who were never accused
of being chicken-hearted, although they had been hatched out of an
egg; and Theseus, who was so renowned for killing the Minotaur; and
Lynceus, with his wonderfully sharp eyes, which could see through
a millstone, or look right down into the depths of the earth, and
discover the treasures that were there; and Orpheus, the very best of
harpers, who sang and played upon his lyre so sweetly, that the brute
beasts stood upon their hind legs, and capered merrily to the music.
Yes, and at some of his more moving tunes, the rocks bestirred their
moss-grown bulk out of the ground, and a grove of forest trees uprooted
themselves, and, nodding their tops to one another, performed a country
dance.
One of the rowers was a beautiful young woman, named Atalanta, who had
been nursed among the mountains by a bear. So light of foot was this
fair damsel, that she could step from one foamy crest of a wave to
the foamy crest of another, without wetting more than the sole of her
sandal. She had grown up in a very wild way, and talked much about the
rights of women, and loved hunting and war far better than her needle.
But, in my opinion, the most remarkable of this famous company were two
sons of the North Wind, (airy youngsters, and of rather a blustering
disposition,) who had wings on their shoulders, and, in case of a
calm, could puff out their cheeks, and blow almost as fresh a breeze
as their father. I ought not to forget the prophets and conjurers, of
whom there were several in the crew, and who could foretell what would
happen to-morrow, or the next day, or a hundred years hence, but were
generally quite unconscious of what was passing at the moment.
Jason appointed Tiphys to be helmsman, because he was a star-gazer, and
knew the points of the compass. Lynceus, on account of his sharp sight,
was stationed as a lookout in the prow, where he saw a whole day's
sail ahead, but was rather apt to overlook things that lay directly
under his nose. If the sea only happened to be deep enough, however,
Lynceus could tell you exactly what kind of rocks or sand were at the
bottom of it; and he often cried out to his companions, that they were
sailing over heaps of sunken treasure, which he was none the richer for
beholding. To confess the truth, few people believed him when he said
it.
Well! But when the Argonauts, as these fifty brave adventurers
were called, had prepared everything for the voyage, an unforeseen
difficulty threatened to end it before it was begun. The vessel, you
must understand, was so long, and broad, and ponderous, that the united
force of all the fifty was insufficient to shove her into the water.
Hercules, I suppose, had not grown to his full strength, else he might
have set her afloat as easily as a little boy launches his boat upon
a puddle. But here were these fifty heroes, pushing, and straining,
and growing red in the face, without making the _Argo_ start an inch.
At last, quite wearied out, they sat themselves down on the shore,
exceedingly disconsolate, and thinking that the vessel must be left to
rot and fall in pieces, and that they must either swim across the sea
or lose the Golden Fleece.
All at once, Jason bethought himself of the galley's miraculous figure
head.
"O, daughter of the Talking Oak," cried he, "how shall we set to work
to get our vessel into the water?"
"Seat yourselves," answered the image, (for it had known what had ought
to be done from the very first, and was only waiting for the question
to be put,)--"seat yourselves, and handle your oars, and let Orpheus
play upon his harp."
Immediately the fifty heroes got on board, and seizing their oars, held
them perpendicularly in the air, while Orpheus (who liked such a task
far better than rowing) swept his fingers across the harp. At the first
ringing note of the music, they felt the vessel stir. Orpheus thrummed
away briskly, and the galley slid at once into the sea, dipping her
prow so deeply that the figure head drank the wave with its marvellous
lips, and rising again as buoyant as a swan. The rowers plied their
fifty oars; the white foam boiled up before the prow; the water gurgled
and bubbled in their wake; while Orpheus continued to play so lively
a strain of music, that the vessel seemed to dance over the billows
by way of keeping time to it. Thus triumphantly did the Argo sail out
of the harbor, amidst the huzzahs and good wishes of everybody except
the wicked old Pelias, who stood on a promontory, scowling at her, and
wishing that he could blow out of his lungs the tempest of wrath that
was in his heart, and so sink the galley with all on board. When they
had sailed above fifty miles over the sea, Lynceus happened to cast his
sharp eyes behind, and said that there was this bad-hearted king, still
perched upon the promontory, and scowling so gloomily that it looked
like a black thunder cloud in that quarter of the horizon.
In order to make the time pass away more pleasantly during the voyage,
the heroes talked about the Golden Fleece. It originally belonged, it
appears, to a Bœotian ram, who had taken on his back two children, when
in danger of their lives, and fled with them over land and sea, as far
as Colchis. One of the children, whose name was Helle, fell into the
sea and was drowned. But the other, (a little boy, named Phrixus) was
brought safe ashore by the faithful ram, who, however, was so exhausted
that he immediately lay down and died. In memory of this good deed,
and as a token of his true heart, the fleece of the poor dead ram was
miraculously changed to gold, and became one of the most beautiful
objects ever seen on earth. It was hung upon a tree in a sacred grove,
where it had now been kept I know not how many years, and was the envy
of mighty kings, who had nothing so magnificent in any of their palaces.
If I were to tell you all the adventures of the Argonauts, it would
take me till nightfall, and perhaps a great deal longer. There was
no lack of wonderful events, as you may judge from what you have
already heard. At a certain island they were hospitably received by
King Cyzicus, its sovereign, who made a feast for them, and treated
them like brothers. But the Argonauts saw that this good king looked
downcast and very much troubled, and they therefore inquired of him
what was the matter. King Cyzicus hereupon informed them that he and
his subjects were greatly abused and incommoded by the inhabitants of a
neighboring mountain, who made war upon them, and killed many people,
and ravaged the country. And while they were talking about it, Cyzicus
pointed to the mountain, and asked Jason and his companions what they
saw there.
"I see some very tall objects," answered Jason; "but they are at such
a distance that I cannot distinctly make out what they are. To tell
your majesty the truth, they look so very strangely that I am inclined
to think them clouds, which have chanced to take something like human
shapes."
"I see them very plainly," remarked Lynceus, whose eyes, you know, were
as far sighted as a telescope. "They are a band of enormous giants, all
of whom have six arms apiece, and a club, a sword, or some other weapon
in each of their hands."
"You have excellent eyes," said King Cyzicus. "Yes, they are six armed
giants, as you say, and these are the enemies whom I and my subjects
have to contend with."
The next day, when the Argonauts were about setting sail, down
came these terrible giants, stepping a hundred yards at a stride,
brandishing their six arms apiece and looking very formidable, so far
aloft in the air. Each of these monsters was able to carry on a whole
war by himself, for with one of his arms he could fling immense stones,
and wield a club with another, and a sword with a third, while the
fourth was poking a long spear at the enemy, and the fifth and sixth
were shooting him with a bow and arrow. But, luckily, though the giants
were so huge, and had so many arms, they had each but one heart, and
that no bigger nor braver than the heart of an ordinary man. Besides,
if they had been like the hundred-armed Briareus, the brave Argonauts
would have given them their hands full of fight. Jason and his friends
went boldly to meet them, slew a great many, and made the rest take to
their heels, so that, if the giants had had six legs apiece instead of
six arms, it would have served them better to run away with.
Another strange adventure happened when the voyagers came to Thrace,
where they found a poor blind king, named Phineus, deserted by
his subjects, and living in a very sorrowful way, all by himself.
On Jason's inquiring whether they could do him any service, the
king answered that he was terribly tormented by three great winged
creatures, called Harpies, which had the faces of women, and the wings,
bodies, and claws of vultures. These ugly wretches were in the habit of
snatching away his dinner, and allowed him no peace of his life. Upon
hearing this, the Argonauts spread a plentiful feast on the sea shore,
well knowing, from what the blind king said of their greediness, that
the Harpies would snuff up the scent of the victuals, and quickly come
to steal them away. And so it turned out; for, hardly was the table
set, before the three hideous vulture women came flapping their wings,
seized the food in their talons, and flew off as fast as they could.
But the two sons of the North Wind drew their swords, spread their
pinions, and set off through the air in pursuit of the thieves, whom
they at last overtook among some islands, after a chase of hundreds of
miles. The two winged youths blustered terribly at the Harpies, (for
they had the rough temper of their father,) and so frightened them with
their drawn swords, that they solemnly promised never to trouble King
Phineus again.
Then the Argonauts sailed onward, and met with many other marvellous
incidents, any one of which would make a story by itself. At one
time, they landed on an island, and were reposing on the grass, when
they suddenly found themselves assailed by what seemed a shower of
steel-headed arrows. Some of them stuck in the ground, while others
hit against their shields, and several penetrated their flesh. The
fifty heroes started up, and looked about them for the hidden enemy,
but could find none, nor see any spot, on the whole island, where even
a single archer could lie concealed. Still, however, the steel-headed
arrows came whizzing among them, and, at last, happening to look
upward, they beheld a large flock of birds, hovering and wheeling
aloft, and shooting their feathers down upon the Argonauts. These
feathers were the steel-headed arrows that had so tormented them.
There was no possibility of making any resistance; and the fifty
heroic Argonauts might all have been killed or wounded by a flock of
troublesome birds, without ever setting eyes on the Golden Fleece, if
Jason had not thought of asking the advice of the oaken image.
So he ran to the galley as fast as his legs would carry him.
"O, daughter of the Speaking Oak," cried he, all out of breath, "we
need your wisdom more than ever before! We are in great peril from a
flock of birds, who are shooting us with their steel-pointed feathers.
What can we do to drive them away?"
"Make a clatter on your shields," said the image.
On receiving this excellent counsel, Jason hurried back to his
companions, (who were far more dismayed than when they fought with
the six-armed giants,) and bade them strike with their swords upon
their brazen shields. Forthwith the fifty heroes set heartily to work,
banging with might and main, and raised such a terrible clatter, that
the birds made what haste they could to get away; and though they had
shot half the feathers out of their wings, they were soon seen skimming
among the clouds, a long distance off, and looking like a flock of wild
geese. Orpheus celebrated this victory by playing a triumphant anthem
on his harp, and sang so melodiously that Jason begged him to desist,
lest, as the steel-feathered birds had been driven away by an ugly
sound, they might be enticed back again by a sweet one.
While the Argonauts remained on this island, they saw a small vessel
approaching the shore, in which were two young men of princely
demeanor, and exceedingly handsome, as young princes generally were,
in those days. Now, who do you imagine these two voyagers turned out
to be? Why, if you will believe me, they were the sons of that very
Phrixus, who, in his childhood, had been carried to Colchis on the back
of the golden-fleeced ram. Since that time, Phrixus had married the
king's daughter; and the two young princes had been born and brought
up at Colchis, and had spent their play days in the outskirts of the
grove, in the center of which the Golden Fleece was hanging upon a
tree. They were now on their way to Greece, in hopes of getting back a
kingdom that had been wrongfully taken from their father.