grow up, just like any other boy except that his limbs were stronger and
his muscles harder than those of the average boy of Greece. There were
still those who admired him and those who hated him, knowing that he
was, really, the son of a god. So his enemies put Hercules in charge of
a kind of tutor named Eurystheus who was under orders to give him the
most impossible tasks to try and perform.
"The lad will fail and then we shall be well rid of him," the goddess
Juno, who particularly disliked Hercules, said.
Hercules began life in a part of Greece that was known as the valley of
Nemea. It was a place of olive orchards and fruit trees and fields of
grain, but the terror of the place was the Nemean lion who lived close
by in the fastness of the hills. There had never been known so huge a
lion, with such wide, blood thirsty jaws. Eurystheus ordered Hercules to
bring him the tawny hide of this monster.
"How shall I slay the Nemean lion?" Hercules asked.
"With your arrows and your club," Eurystheus replied carelessly, but he
knew that no arrows in all Greece could pierce the lion's skin and that
Hercules' club, made of a stout young tree, would also be powerless
against the beast.
"Hercules will never return," the people of the valley said to each
other as they watched the young hero start out boldly toward the hills.
But he returned the next day, as fresh and untroubled as when he had
started, with the hide of the Nemean lion slung over his shoulder.
"Are yours magic arrows, and is your club charmed as well?" the youths
who were Hercules' friends asked, crowding around him.
"I killed the lion with my hands alone, grasping him about his throat,"
Hercules explained to them.
Eurystheus, listening on the edge of the crowd, frowned at these words.
"I must plan a greater labor for him," he thought.
There was a rich and beautiful city of Greece named Argos, but a fearful
monster called the Hydra infested a swamp just outside it and one never
knew when it would descend upon the well that supplied the people with
pure water. It had nine heads and one of these was immortal, so the
rumor went.
"Go to Argos and kill the Hydra," Eurystheus commanded Hercules.
Hercules was ready to dare this adventure. He started out again with no
other arms than he had carried before and when he came to the well of
Argos which kept the country from drought, he found the Hydra stationed
there. Going up to it, Hercules struck off one of its heads with his
club. What was his surprise to see two heads grow in the place of this
one! It was going to be a task to destroy this creature, Hercules
understood, as he laid on with his club against the menacing and
increasing heads, hitting right and left and with no time between his
telling blows. He struck off all of the Hydra's heads at last except the
undying one. Finally Hercules thought of a plan for destroying this. He
wrenched it off with his mighty hands and buried it deeply underneath a
rock.
"Hercules shall be put to a task he will not like so well as
encountering wild beasts," Eurystheus decided then. "He shall clean the
Augean stables. We will see if a son of the gods has the will to
accomplish that labor."
This was indeed a labor with very little of the spirit of adventure in
it. Old King Augeus, of Elis in Greece had a herd of three thousand
cattle and their stalls in his many stables had not been cleaned for
thirty years. The cattle, all of them of blooded stock, were dying off
because they were not properly cared for, and there was no hero of the
king's train but felt the work of cleaning the stables to be too menial
for him.
Hercules had no such thought as this, however. He was ready to attempt
the labor; his only idea was how to accomplish it, and thoroughly. At
last he had a very novel idea.
There were scarcely any of the lesser gods of outdoors who had not, by
this time, felt the strength of Hercules. There had been the river god
who took delight in leading the waters of the streams over their banks
and inundating the farms in the spring when the fields had just been
planted. Hercules had wrestled with this river god and had broken off
one of his horns, on account of which he had to keep the streams between
their banks. Hercules made up his mind that he would take advantage of
his power over the river god in his present need.
So what did Hercules do but lead the courses of two streams, the Alpheus
and the Peneus, right through the Augean stables cleansing them
thoroughly. When he finished this labor, the result was so fine that he
had quite as much reason to be proud of it as he had over his other
prowess. It was as splendid to use one's strength in cleaning as in any
other way, Hercules discovered.
He went on from one adventure to another with the years, always
successful although everyone prophesied that some day his strength would
fail and he would have to give up. Eurystheus wanted a new yoke of
oxen, and none would do except those who lived in the land of the
setting sun, in the western part of Greece and were guarded by a giant
who had three bodies. Hercules set out for the place and when he reached
it he discovered that not only the giant, but a huge dog that had two
heads guarded the oxen. Hercules killed the giant and his dog and drove
the oxen home to Eurystheus.
Victor over wild beasts and giants, and able to accomplish any work
which he attempted! What labor was there left for this son of Mount
Olympus? Eurystheus knew. He sent Hercules on what seemed indeed a wild
goose search. He commanded him to bring back to Greece the golden apples
of the Hesperides without telling him where they were to be found.
They were very plump and beautiful apples made altogether of solid gold.
It is said that they were the first oranges the world had ever known.
However that may be the Greeks wanted them very much. Juno had received
them for a wedding present from the goddess of Earth, and had hung some
on a golden tree in the fair garden of the daughters of Hesperis who
kept a dragon to guard them. It would have been a task to pick them even
if one had known where to go for them. Hercules started out, though,
without route or chart and it was the most difficult of all his
adventures.
He met Antaeus, a son of the Earth, who was a mighty giant and wrestler.
Hercules encountered this son of the Earth and threw him countless
times, but each time the giant rose from the ground with renewed
strength. It was like magic, but Hercules found out at last the secret
of Antaeus' strength, as you, also, will in the next story, and did
battle with him. Then, on went Hercules, for the Earth could no longer
stop him, and after awhile he found himself at Mount Atlas in Africa.
The bent old giant, Atlas, stood on the top of this, holding up the sky
on his shoulders. He was as ancient as the mountain itself and doomed by
the gods to stand there through the seasons and never go home to the
garden of the Hesperides where his daughters lived.
"If you will but bring me the golden apples of the Hesperides, old
Atlas, I will take your place on the mountain top for a space,"
Hercules said to the giant.
"The sky is heavier than you imagine, my son," Atlas replied. "I doubt
if you can bear it."
"Let me but try," Hercules urged him.
So Atlas shifted the burden of the heavens from his shoulders to those
of Hercules and the hero held them securely. When Atlas returned, his
arms full of the precious golden balls, Hercules still held the sky as
if he scarcely felt its weight. Atlas wanted to have him hold it always,
but Hercules was of no mind to do that. He gave back his load to Atlas
and took the apples of the Hesperides home to Greece.
Hercules had conquered the earth even in this last adventure, and it
seemed as if there was no great deed left for this hero. But he
continued using his mighty strength, even to descending to Pluto's realm
of darkness and bringing back the heroic Theseus who was a prisoner
there. At last even his enemies on Mount Olympus were forced to grant
him a place of honor in their midst and Jupiter wrapped him in a cloud
and sent a four horse chariot to bring him home along the road of the
stars. When Hercules reached the Olympian Heights it is said that old
Atlas bent still lower with the weight on his shoulders, for this hero
had added new strength to the heavens.
But how about those two goddesses, you ask, who presided like fairy
godmothers over the destiny of Hercules? The ancients asked that same
question, and Hercules answered it just before Jupiter called him away
from Greece.
One of these goddesses was named Virtue, and the other Pleasure, but it
was the first whom Hercules followed all his life.
[2]THE PYGMIES.
A great while ago, in the days of the myths, there lived an earth-born
Giant named Antaeus, and a race of little earth-born people who were
called Pygmies. This Giant and these Pygmies, being children of the same
Mother Earth, lived together in a very friendly way far off in the
middle of hot Africa.
It must have been very curious to behold the Pygmies' little cities with
streets two or three feet wide paved with the smallest pebbles and
bordered by habitations about as big as a squirrel's cage. If one of the
Pygmies grew to the height of six or eight inches he was reckoned a
prodigiously tall man and there were so many sandy deserts and high
mountains between them and the rest of mankind that nobody could get a
peep at them oftener than once in a hundred years.
The king's palace was about as tall as a dolls' house and this and the
rest of their houses were built neither of stone or wood. They were
neatly plastered together by the Pygmy workmen, pretty much like birds'
nests, out of straw, feathers, egg shells, and other bits of small stuff
with stiff clay instead of mortar. And when the sun had dried them they
were just as snug and comfortable as a Pygmy could desire.
Their giant friend, Antaeus, was so very tall that he carried a pine
tree for a walking stick. It took a far-sighted Pygmy to see the top of
his head on a cloudy day. But at noonday, when the sun shone brightly
over him, Antaeus presented a very grand spectacle. There he used to
stand, a perfect mountain of a man, with his great countenance smiling
down on his little brothers and his one eye, which was as big as a cart
wheel and placed right in the centre of his forehead, giving a friendly
wink to the whole nation at once. In spite of the difference in their
size, it seemed as if Antaeus needed the Pygmies for his friend as much
as they did him for the protection he was to them. No creature of his
own size had ever talked with him. When he stood with his head among the
clouds, he was quite alone and had been so for hundreds of years and
would be forever. Even if he had met one of the other Giants, Antaeus
would have fancied the earth not large enough for them both and would
have fought with him. But with the Pygmies he was the most merry and
sweet tempered old Giant who ever washed his face in a cloud.
The Pygmies had but one thing to trouble them in the world. They were
constantly at war with the cranes. From time to time very terrible
battles had been fought in which sometimes the little men were
victorious and sometimes the cranes. When the two armies joined battle,
the cranes would rush forward, flapping their wings, and would perhaps
snatch up some of the Pygmies crosswise in their beaks. It was truly an
awful spectacle to see the little men kicking and sprawling in the air
and then disappearing down the crane's crooked throat, swallowed alive.
If Antaeus observed that the battle was going hard with his little
allies, he ran with mile-long strides to their rescue, flourishing his
club and shouting at the cranes who quacked and croaked and retreated as
fast as they could.
One day the mighty Antaeus was lolling at full length among his
friends. His head was in one part of the kingdom and his feet in another
and he was taking what comfort he could while the Pygmies scrambled over
him and played in his hair. Sometimes, for a minute or two, the Giant
dropped to sleep and snored like the rush of a whirlwind. During one of
these naps a Pygmy climbed upon his shoulder and took a view around the
horizon as from the summit of a hill. Suddenly he saw something, a long
way off, that made him rub his eyes and looked sharper than before. At
first he mistook it for a mountain and then he saw the mountain move. As
it came nearer, what should it turn out to be but a human shape, not so
large as Antaeus, but an enormous figure when compared with the Pygmies.
The Pygmy scampered as fast as his legs would carry him to the Giant's
ear and, stooping over, shouted in it,
"Brother Antaeus, get up this minute! Take your walking stick in your
hand for here comes another Giant to do battle with you!"
"Pooh, pooh!" grumbled Antaeus, only half awake. "None of your
nonsense, my little fellow. Don't you see that I am sleepy? There is not
another Giant on earth for whom I would take the trouble to get up."
But the Pygmy looked again and now perceived that the stranger was
coming directly toward the prostrate form of Antaeus. There he was, with
the sun flaming on his golden helmet and flashing from his polished
breastplate. He had a sword by his side, and a lion's skin over his
back, and on his right shoulder he carried a club which looked bulkier
and heavier than the pine-tree walking stick of Antaeus.
By this time the whole nation of Pygmies had seen the new wonder and a
million of them set up a shout all together,
"Get up, Antaeus! Bestir yourself, you lazy old Giant. Here comes
another Giant, as strong as you are, to fight with you."
"Nonsense," growled the sleepy Giant. "I'll have my nap out, come who
may."
Still the stranger drew nearer, and now the Pygmies could plainly
discern that, if his stature were less lofty than the Giant's, yet his
shoulders were even broader. What a pair of shoulders they must have
been, for they were, later, to uphold the sky! So the Pygmies kept
shouting at Antaeus, and even went so far as to prick him with their
swords. Antaeus sat up, gave a yawn that was several yards wide, and
finally turned his stupid head in the direction in which the little
people pointed.
No sooner did he set eye on the stranger than, leaping to his feet and
seizing his walking stick, he strode a mile or two to meet him, all the
while brandishing the sturdy pine-tree so that it whistled through the
air.
"Who are you?" thundered the Giant, "and what do you want in my domain?
Speak, you vagabond, or I'll try the thickness of your skull with my
walking-stick."
"You are a very discourteous Giant," answered the stranger quietly, "and
I shall probably have to teach you a little civility before we part. As
for my name, it is Hercules. I have come hither because this is my most
convenient road to the garden of the Hesperides, where I am going to get
some of the golden apples for King Eurystheus."
"Then you shall go no farther!" bellowed Antaeus, for he had heard of
the mighty Hercules and hated him because he was said to be so strong.
"I will hit you a slight rap with this pine-tree, for I would be ashamed
to kill such a puny dwarf as you appear. I will make a slave of you, and
you shall likewise be the slave of my brothers here, the Pygmies. So
throw down your club. As for that lion's skin you wear, I intend to have
a pair of gloves made of it."
"Come and take it off my shoulders then," answered Hercules, lifting his
club.
At that Antaeus, scowling with rage, strode, towerlike, toward the
stranger and gave a mighty blow at him with his pine-tree, which
Hercules caught upon his club; and, being more skilful than the Giant,
he paid him back such a rap that down tumbled the poor man-mountain flat
upon the ground. But no sooner was the Giant down than up he bounded,
aiming another blow at Hercules. But he was blinded with his wrath and
only hit his poor, innocent Mother Earth, who groaned and trembled at
the stroke. His pine tree went so deep into the ground that before
Antaeus could get it out, Hercules brought his club down over his
shoulders with a mighty whack which made the Giant let out a terrible
roar. Away it echoed, over mountains and valleys. As for the Pygmies,
their capital city was laid in ruins by the vibration it made in the
air.
But Antaeus scrambled to his feet again and succeeded in pulling his
pine-tree out of the earth. He ran at Hercules, and brought down another
blow.
"This time, rascal!" he shouted, "you shall not escape me."
But once more Hercules warded off the stroke with his club, and the
Giant's pine-tree was shattered to a thousand splinters. Before Antaeus
could get out of the way, Hercules let drive again, and gave him another
knock-down blow. Then, watching his opportunity as the Giant rose again,
Hercules caught him round the middle with both hands, lifted him high
into the air, and held him aloft.
But the most wonderful thing was that, as soon as Antaeus was off the
earth, he began to lose the vigor that it now appeared he had gained by
touching it. Hercules soon discovered that his enemy was growing
weaker, both because he kicked and struggled with less violence, and
because the thunder of his big voice subsided to a grumble. The truth
was that, unless the Giant touched Mother Earth as often as once in five
minutes, not only his overgrown strength, but the very breath of his
life would depart from him. Hercules had guessed this secret; it may be
well for us all to remember it in case we should ever have to fight with
a fellow like Antaeus. For these earth-born Giants are not only
difficult to conquer on their own ground but may easily be managed if we
can contrive to lift them into a loftier and purer region.
When Antaeus' strength and breath were gone, Hercules gave his huge body
a toss and flung it a mile off where it lay heavily with no more motion
than a sand hill. His ponderous form may be lying in the same spot
to-day, and might be mistaken for those of an uncommonly large elephant.
What a wailing the poor little Pygmies set up when they saw their
enormous brother treated in this terrible way! As soon as they saw
Hercules preparing for a nap, they nodded their little heads at one
another and winked their little eyes. And when he had closed his eyes
the whole Pygmy nation set out to destroy the hero.
A body of twenty thousand archers marched in front with their little
bows all ready and their arrows on the string. The same number were
ordered to clamber on Hercules, some with spades to dig his eyes out,
and others with bundles of hay to plug up his mouth and nostrils. These
last could not harm him at all, for as soon as he snored he blew out the
hay and sent the Pygmies flying before the hurricane of his breath. It
was found necessary to hit upon some other way of carrying on the war.
After holding a council, the captains ordered their troops to collect
sticks, straws and dry weeds and heap them around the head of Hercules.
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 Hercules. A Pygmy, you know,
though so very small, might set the world on fire just as easily as a
Giant could.
But no sooner did Hercules begin to be scorched than up he started.
"What's all this?" he cried, and staring about him as if he expected
another Giant.
At that moment the twenty thousand archers twanged their bow strings and
the arrows came whizzing like so many mosquitoes. Hercules gazed around,
for he hardly felt the arrows. At last, looking narrowly at the ground,
he espied the 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 looked at him.
"Who in the world, my little fellow, are you?" Hercules asked.
"I am your enemy," answered the Pygmy. "You have slain the Giant,
Antaeus, our brother by our mother's side, and we are determined to put
you to death."
Hercules was so amused by the Pygmy's big words and warlike gestures
that he burst into laughter and almost dropped the poor little mite of a
creature off his hand.
"Upon my word," he said, "I thought I had seen wonders before to-day,
hydras with many heads, three headed dogs, and giants with furnaces in
their stomachs, but you outdo 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 amazed at the little man's courage, and so he left the
Pygmies, one and all, in their own country, building their little
houses, waging their little warfare with the cranes, and doing their
little business whatever it might have been.
FOOTNOTE:
[2] By permission of and special arrangement with the Houghton
Mifflin Co.
THE HORN OF PLENTY.
Dejanira was one of the most beautiful of princesses who lived in the
long ago days of the Greek gods and goddesses. It seemed as if all the
charm of the world in this, its myth time, was hers. Her hair was bright
with the yellow of the first spring sunshine, and her eyes were as blue
as the skies of spring. Summer had touched Dejanira's cheeks with the
pink of rose petals, and the colors of the autumn fruits shone in her
jewels, crimson and purple and gold. Her robes were as white and soft as
the snows of winter, and all the music of soft winds and bird songs and
rippling brooks was in this princess' voice.
Because of her beauty and her goodness, which even surpassed it, princes
came from all over the world to ask Dejanira's father, Aeneus, if she
might go home to their kingdoms to be their queen. But to all these
Aeneus replied that to none but the strongest would he give the
princess.
So there were many tests of these strangers' skill and strength in
games and wrestling, but one by one they failed. At last there were only
two left, Hercules who was strong enough to hold the sky on his broad
shoulders, and Achelous, the river-god, who twisted and twined through
the fields making them fertile with the brooks and the streams. Each
thought himself the greater of the two, and it lay between them which by
his prowess should gain the princess to be his wife.
Hercules was massive of limb and of powerful strength. Beneath his
shaggy eyebrows, his eyes gleamed like balls of fire. His garment was of
lions' skins and his staff was a young tree. But the clever Achelous was
able to slip between the huge fingers of Hercules. He was as slender and
graceful as a willow tree and his garment was of the green of foliage.
He wore a crown of water lilies on his fair hair, and carried a staff
made of twined reeds. When Achelous spoke, his voice was like the
rippling of a stream.
"The Princess Dejanira shall be mine!" said Achelous. "I will make her
the queen of the river lands. The music of the waters shall be always
in her ears, and the plenty that follows wherever I go shall make her
rich."
"No!" shouted Hercules. "I am the strength of the earth. Dejanira is
mine. You shall not have her."
Then the river-god grew very angry. His green robe changed its color to
that of the black of the sea in a storm, and his voice was as loud as
that of a mountain cataract. Achelous could be almost as powerful as
Hercules when he was angered.
"How do you dare claim this royal maiden?" he roared, "you, who have
mortal blood in your veins! I am a god and the king of the waters.
Wherever I take my way over the earth grains and fruits ripen and
flowers bud and bloom. The Princess Dejanira is mine by right."
Hercules frowned as he advanced toward the river-god. "Your strength is
only in words," he said scornfully. "My strength is in my arm. If you
would win Dejanira, it must be by hand-to-hand combat." So the river-god
threw off his garments and Hercules his lion's skin, and the two fought
for the hand of the princess.
It was a brave and valorous battle. Neither yielded; both stood their
ground. Achelous slipped in and out of Hercules' mighty grasp a dozen
times, but at last the hero's powerful strength was too much for this
god who had to depend upon adroitness only. Hercules gripped the
river-god fast by his neck and held him, panting for breath.
Then Achelous resorted to the trickery that he knew. He suddenly changed
his form through the magic arts he could practise to that of a long,
slimy serpent. He twisted out of Hercules' grasp and darted a forked
tongue out at him, showing his fangs. Hercules was not yet undone. He
only laughed scornfully at the serpent and grasped the creature by the
back of its neck, ready to strangle it.