serious mishap, leaped onto the bank, and went at once to the king of
Colchis, demanding from him the golden fleece. The Argonauts thought in
the pride of their youth that no one could resist them or refuse them
anything, but the king looked serious over the matter.
"You must earn the fleece, Jason," he said. "Nothing so valuable can be
had for only the asking. Are you brave enough to yoke my bulls to a
plough and plant a field full of dragon's teeth?"
Jason gasped. He knew these bulls of Colchis by reputation, although it
had never occurred to him that he might be called upon to harness and
drive them. They had brazen teeth and breathed fire from their nostrils
that consumed whatever it touched. The sound of their breathing was like
the roar of a furnace, and the smoke of their breath was suffocating.
In spite of his fear, though, Jason had another thought. The king had
said that the fleece must be earned, that nothing so golden could be
had for the asking. That was really true, Jason thought, and he began to
feel a great courage. He was growing into the hero that he always had
been at heart, being a youth of Greece.
"Send out your bulls," he said to the king of Colchis.
Something happened then that is very apt to happen when anyone makes up
his mind to dare a seemingly impossible deed. Help came to Jason. Medea,
the daughter of the king of Colchis, gave Jason a charm that protected
him from fire. The bulls rushed into the field toward Jason, sending
forth their burning breath like dragons, but Jason advanced boldly to
meet them. His friends, the Argonauts, watched him in terror, but he
went straight up to the bulls and his voice seemed to soothe their rage.
He stroked their necks fearlessly, slipped on the yoke and harnessed
them to the plough.
Dragons' teeth were a strange kind of seed to plant. As Jason ploughed
straight furrows and dropped in the teeth, the people of the kingdom and
the Argonauts gathered at the edge of the field to watch, and it came
to his mind that perhaps the king was making a joke of him. There would
have been some sense in having that pair of fiery bulls use their great
strength to plough in corn and wheat, Jason thought, as he plodded up
and down the field. But suddenly a cry from the crowd startled Jason and
he looked back. A strange sight met his eyes.
The clods of earth that covered the teeth of the dragon began to stir,
and the bright points of spears thrust their way up through to the
surface. Helmets with nodding plumes appeared next, and after them came
the shoulders and arms and limbs of men. In a moment the field was alive
with armed warriors advancing upon Jason.
He was only one hero against all of this foe, but the sight put the same
courage that had come to him into the heart of each one of the Argonauts
and they rushed to help their leader. Jason led valiantly against the
warriors, but there would have been no hope for him and the Greeks if
his courage had not been rewarded a second time. Medea sent a charmed
sword to the hero. He threw it into the ranks of the warriors and they
suddenly ceased attacking the Greeks, fell to fighting among
themselves, and were destroyed.
There was still another danger for Jason to face, the dragon who guarded
the fleece with eyes that never closed. His new courage was equal to it.
He entered the grove that sheltered the golden fleece, took the
glittering blanket from the oak tree where it hung, escaped the dragon
and embarked with the Argonauts for the return trip to Greece.
The people proclaimed Jason king when he and the rest of these young
heroes of Greece landed in Thessaly. They chose him for his valor, not
for his spoils, and it seemed to add to his new glory that he had
started out an adventurer and returned a victor in a great fight.
The strangest part of the story is that no one knows what became of the
golden fleece after Jason and the Argonauts brought it home with them.
No one seems to have ever heard of it again. Perhaps even such a
treasure as that was grew dull and lost its value in comparison with the
golden prize of courage in achievement that the Argonauts found and kept
all the rest of their lives.
MEDEA'S CALDRON.
If a boy of to-day could have lived in the days of the ancient Greeks,
learning by means of self restraint and all the arts of soldiery to be a
hero in warfare, it is possible that his captain would have told him a
strange story as part of his training. The boy would have wondered why
he had to hear such a grim tale, and what it all meant, for it was one
of the myths which rivalled almost all the rest in its hidden meaning.
It was the story of Medea, the dark sorceress, and how she worked her
art on Aeson, the father of Jason.
Jason brought Medea home to Thessaly with him at the same time that he
brought the fleece of gold whose capture had been his great adventure.
She was the princess who had helped him with her sorcery to brave a fire
breathing dragon, but she was ill suited to the court of Greece, never
having taken any pleasure in the arts that most maidens delighted in,
needlework, weaving and the other crafts needful in making a home.
Instead Medea was wont to flee from the feasts and the games of the
court and sit by herself on a cliff beside the sea, her long black hair
blowing about her pale face and her lips muttering incantations to the
wild accompaniment that the waves sang.
She had a fondness for the hero, Jason, though, in her own strange way,
and pride in the mighty deeds he had dared. She heard him speak one day
of his greatest wish.
"There is only one thing lacking in my triumph and the homage that the
nation is paying me," Jason told Medea, "I would that my father were
able to take part in the rejoicing but he is growing daily more feeble
and helpless. I would willingly give enough years from my life to make
him young and strong again."
Medea replied nothing in answer to this wish, but to herself she said,
"My power has been mighty in the aid of this hero and I will try it
still farther. If my sorcery avails me anything, the life of Jason's
father shall be lengthened without the cost of the sacrifice of any of
the youth's own years."
So, when the moon was next in the full, Medea made her way silently and
alone out of the palace when it was the dead of night and all creatures
slept. She moved swiftly along the fields and groves murmuring strange
words as she went, and addressing an incantation to the moon and to the
stars. There was a goddess, named Hecate, who was supposed to represent
the darkness and terror of the night as Diana represented its beauties.
At dusk she began her wandering over the earth, seen only by dogs who
howled at her approach. Medea followed Hecate, imploring her help, and
she also called to Tellus, that goddess of the earth by whose power
those herbs that could be brewed for enchantment were grown. And Medea
invoked the aid also of the gods of the woods and caverns, of valleys
and mountains, of rivers and lakes, and of the winds and vapors.
As Medea took her enchanted way through the night, the stars shone with
an unusual brilliancy and presently a chariot, drawn by flying serpents
descended to meet her through the air. Medea ascended in it and made her
way to distant regions where the most powerful plants grew and brought
them back before the day's first light for her uses. Nine nights Medea
rode away in the chariot of the flying serpents, and in all that time
she did not go within the doors of her palace or shelter herself under
any roof, or speak to a human being.
Hebe was the goddess of youth and one of the cup bearers of the gods.
When Medea had gathered the herbs which she needed for her potion, she
built a fire in front of a nearby temple to Hebe and over the fire she
hung a very wide and deep caldron. In this caldron she mixed the herbs
with seeds and flowers that gave out a bitter juice, stones from the far
distant east, and sands from the encircling shore of the ocean. There
were other ingredients, also, in this brew; a screech owl's head and
wings, hoar frost gathered by moonlight, fragments of the shells of
tortoises who of all creatures are the most long lived, and the head and
beak of a crow, the birds that outlives nine generations of men.
Medea boiled all these ingredients together to get them ready for the
deed she proposed to do, stirring them with a dried branch from an olive
tree. And, strange to say, the branch did not burn, but when the
sorceress lifted it out it instantly turned as green as it had been in
the spring, and in a short time it was covered with leaves and a
luxuriant growth of olives. The potion in the caldron bubbled and
simmered and sometimes rose so high as it boiled that it spilled over
the edge and down on the ground. But wherever the drops touched the
earth, new green grass shot up and there were flowers as bright and
fragrant as the most prized blossoms of the May.
The sorceress wished to further test her brew, though, and she put an
old sheep, one of the most ancient of the flock, in the seething potion.
Instead of being cooked, the creature was quite unhurt and when Medea
removed the cover, a little new lamb, soft and white, jumped out and ran
frisking away to the meadow.
So Medea knew that her spell was ready and she commanded that Jason
bring his aged father, Aeson, to her.
"I would like to know him," she explained, "and hear from his lips of
the deeds you did in your youth."
Then Jason, all unsuspecting, sent for his father and conducted him to
the spot near the temple of Hebe where Medea waited. And as soon as she
saw Aeson, Medea threw him into a deep sleep by means of a charm and
placed him on a bed of herbs where he lay with no apparent breath or
life in him.
"Wicked sorceress, you have killed my father whom I so greatly loved,"
Jason cried.
Then, even as he spoke, Medea advanced toward the old man and wounded
him deeply, so that all his blood poured out. After this she dipped into
her caldron and poured the charmed brew into Aeson's mouth and bathed
his wound with it.
As soon as he had imbibed it and felt its wonderful power, Aeson's hair
and beard lost their whiteness and became as black as they had been in
his youth. His paleness and emaciation disappeared, for his veins were
full of new blood and his limbs were vigorous and robust. Aeson was
amazed at himself as he ran toward Jason, for he was as he remembered
himself to have been two score years before. The sorceress Medea had
made his years drop away from him.
It would be very pleasant to end this story by saying that Medea always
used her art for a good purpose as she did in this case, but that was
not what happened. She did all manner of things that were wrong, such
as riding her serpent-drawn chariot in the pursuit of revenge, sending a
poisoned dress to a bride, and setting fire to a palace. What a strange,
unusual kind of a story is this one of Medea!
What did it mean to the young Greeks who heard it?
It meant for them just what it means for us to-day. Medea and her
caldron signified those times of cruel war and change that come to every
nation. They may result in evil. But sometimes, when the world has
become old and feeble, it may be made young and strong again through
bitter pains, as Aeson was made young through Medea's caldron of such
bitter brewing.
HOW A GOLDEN APPLE CAUSED A WAR.
No one, as far as could be found out, had invited Eris to the party.
Indeed everyone would have desired to keep her away, for it was a very
great wedding feast attended by both the immortals and men, and Eris was
the goddess of discontent.
There was a beautiful nymph of the sea named Thetis whom even Jupiter
had looked upon with favor, and she was given in marriage to a mortal,
Peleus. The gathering was being held on Mount Olympus and just when the
merrymaking was at its height and Ganymede, that comely Trojan youth
whom Jupiter in the guise of an eagle had borne away to be the cupbearer
of the gods, was offering his nectar to all, a golden apple fell in
their midst.
It was very large and shone and glittered as if it had been made from
skin to core of precious gold. Even the gods scrambled to grasp it, and
for a moment they did not see who had thrown it. As Jupiter held the
apple, though, and read an inscription on its cheek, "For the Fairest,"
the guests had a flying vision of Discord, riding away in her dark
chariot from the feast she had chosen to make bitter. For that apple was
to be the beginning of a war so long and so terrible that there had
never been any other to equal it through all the centuries.
At once the goddesses began to quarrel among themselves as to which was
fair enough to merit the gilded fruit. Juno, being the queen of the
gods, demanded the golden apple as only her just due, and Minerva wanted
it in addition to her treasure of wisdom. They appealed to the mighty
Jupiter, but neither he or any of the other gods dared to decide this
question and so a judge had to be found among the mortals upon earth.
[Illustration: Paris and the Golden Apple.]
Near the city of Troy, on a high mountain named Ida, there lived a young
shepherd, Paris. No one but the gods knew the secret of Paris' royal
birth. He had been left on Mount Ida when he was only a child because it
had been told to his parents in prophecy that he would be the
destruction of the kingdom and the ruin of his family. So Paris, all
unknowing that he was a prince, had grown up among his flocks, as good
to look upon as a young god and greatly beloved by all the hamadryads
and nymphs of the woods and streams. It was at last decided that the
shepherd Paris should be the judge as to which of the three goddesses,
Juno, Minerva or Venus merited the apple of gold, and they descended in
clouds of glory to Mount Ida and stood before him for his judgment.
They seemed to have forgotten their heavenly birth in their jealousy,
for each offered the young shepherd a bribe if he would declare her the
most fair. Juno offered Paris great wealth and one of the kingdoms of
the earth. Minerva said that she would grant Paris as her boon a share
of her wisdom and invincible power in war. But Venus, her unmatched
beauty dazzling the youth as the bright rays of the noontide sun, and
wearing her enchanted girdle, a spell that no one had ever been able to
resist, laid her hand that was as light as sea-foam on Paris' fast
beating heart.
"I will give you the loveliest woman in the world to be your wife," she
said.
At Venus' words, Paris pronounced his judgment, which has never been
forgotten through all the ages, ringing from singer to singer and from
nation to nation in the great strife which it started. He put the apple
of gold into the outstretched hands of Venus, not noticing that the
cloud which carried the angry Juno and Minerva back to the sky was as
black as when Jupiter was preparing to throw his thunderbolts.
Paris saw little after that except his own desires and ambitions, and
Venus began at once feeding his vanity. She told him of his royal birth.
He was the son of King Priam of Troy. So Paris set out for his father's
kingdom to find his fortune, and his flocks never saw him again.
Just at that time King Priam declared a contest of wrestling among the
princes of his court and those of the neighboring kingdoms. On his way
to Troy, Paris heard of this, and he also saw the prize being led toward
Troy by one of the king's herdsmen. It was the finest bull to be found
on all the grazing plains of Mount Ida, and Paris decided to enter the
contest and see if he could not win it for himself. So Paris presented
himself to the court at Troy and wrestled in the sight of the king and
his brothers and his sister, Cassandra, who did not know him. And he
threw all his opponents, and was proclaimed the victor.
He was greeted with joy, as King Priam recognized him, and was crowned
with laurel. Only Cassandra, that sorrowful princess to whom the gods
had given the fatal power of seeing coming events, wept as Paris was
welcomed at the throne of his father. For Cassandra saw Paris as the
destruction of Troy, and her gift of prophecy was her sadness, because
she was doomed never to be believed.
Then Venus told Paris to demand a ship of King Priam and set sail for
Sparta, in Greece, that her promise to him might be fulfilled. Paris set
out, a wondrous appearing youth and a glorious victor, and he was well
received by King Menelaus and his fair wife, Helen.
If Venus' beauty cast a spell among the gods, so did the loveliness of
Helen blind the eyes of men to everything save her lovely face. There
was a story told that Helen was the child of an enchanted swan and that
this was the reason for the enchantment which she wrought in the hearts
of the heroes. All the great princes of Greece had sued for Helen's
hand, and when she left her home to be the wife of Menelaus, her father
made the heroes bind themselves by oath to go to the aid of Menelaus if
it should chance that she was ever stolen away from him. Helen's father
was fearful for her peace, because of the perilous gift of charm which
was hers. In all of Greece, and indeed in the entire world there was
nothing so beautiful as Helen's fair face.
For a long time Paris remained at the court of Sparta treated with a
courtesy and respect which he did not deserve, because during all that
time Venus was enchanting Helen until she was able to think of no one
save the comely youth, Paris. After awhile King Menelaus was obliged to
take a long journey and in his absence Paris persuaded Helen to forsake
Sparta and set sail with him for Troy.
When these two were discovered in their treachery, the heroes were fired
with anger and remembered their pledge to go to King Menelaus' aid if
any deep wrong was done to him. Their wrath was not so much directed
against Helen, whom they believed to be under the dread spell which
Venus had cast upon her, as against Paris who had so violated their
hospitality. It was decided that preparations for war must be
immediately begun and men were pressed into service everywhere gathering
supplies and building ships. Agamemnon, who was a brother of King
Menelaus and mighty in battle, was appointed to be the leader of the
Greek army, and then began the work of finding the best men to help him
in carrying on the great enterprise that was to be directed against
Troy.
The heroes were as true and of as high courage then as they are to-day,
but the adventure of the war was to be directed against a foreign shore
and certain of the Greeks found that it tore their hearts to leave their
own country, and in the cause of a wilful youth and a fair woman. One
among these was Ulysses, the king of Ithaca.
Ulysses was content and happy in his peaceful kingdom and the love of
his industrious queen, Penelope, and his baby son, Telemachus. We must
not commit Ulysses to the sin of cowardice because he did not want to
enlist for the Trojan war. There have been heroes like him in all time,
destined to be the greatest warriors of all, when they overcame their
fears and took swords in their hands in the cause of right. But at first
Ulysses pretended that he had lost his reason. He borrowed a plough from
a farmer and drove it up and down the seashore, sowing salt in the
furrows that he made. Ulysses was pursuing this mad occupation when a
messenger of Agamemnon came to demand his services in the army of the
Greeks. The messenger could not believe his eyes, and to test Ulysses he
grasped the king's little son and laid him on the sand in the direct
path of the plough-share. Ulysses dropped the plough handles and lifted
the baby Telemachus to his heart, so his game of madness was over. He
bade his kingdom and Penelope farewell, and set out to join the heroes.
He was to be one of the bravest of them all, and doomed not to see his
own land again for twenty years.
There was also a hero, a wonder of strength, who was detained from the
war because of the very great love that his mother had for him. This was
Achilles, who was destined to be the noblest hero of Greece in the
contest with the Trojans. When he was a baby, Achilles' mother had taken
him to the river Styx and, holding him by one little heel, had plunged
him in its sacred waters. This made him safe from any harm that might
come to him in battle, although she forgot the heel which she had
covered with her hand. Then the mother of Achilles sent him to friends
in a far kingdom in the dress of a girl and he was brought up there
among women so that he could not be called to arms.
At this time, when the Greeks were polishing their shields and fastening
on their swords for the advance upon Troy, news of Achilles' cowardly
hiding came to Ulysses. He who had overcome his own fear could not bear
to have any other hero fall a victim of cowardice. So Ulysses disguised
himself as a vendor of fine wares, scents and embroidered silks, carved
ivory ornaments and jewels, and he went to the kingdom where Achilles,
now a youth, sojourned in the disguise of a maiden. The women of the
court seized with the greatest delight the fine fabrics and necklaces
from Ulysses' store, but Achilles delved in the packet of goods until
his eyes lighted upon some strange and beautifully wrought weapons which
Ulysses had brought also. These alone pleased him. So the destiny of
Achilles was disclosed and he put on armor and went with Ulysses to join
the army.
In the meantime King Priam had welcomed the erring Paris and Helen, so
great was the charm that her fair face wrought everywhere, and had given
them the shelter of his court. It was a sore trial to the heroes of Troy
that this should have happened, for they were as bold and upright men in
their way as the Greeks were, and had not deserved this shame that had
come upon them. But they, too, were banded together to protect their
king and so they made all the needful preparations to meet the forces of
the enemy when the Greeks should cross the sea.
Since this great war had begun in the jealousy of the gods, the gods
themselves took part in the struggle. Neptune carried the ships of the
Greeks safely over to the plains of Troy where Ulysses accompanied King
Menelaus into the city to demand the return of Helen. When King Priam
refused, Venus endeavored to keep Helen in her power and she enlisted
Mars on the side of the Trojans. Juno favored the Greeks, as did also
Minerva, the goddess of just warfare, and Apollo and Jupiter watched
over the fate of those of the heroes whom they loved, no matter on which
side they fought.
So the Trojan war began, but how it ended is a story of a strange horse
made all of wood.
HOW A WOODEN HORSE WON A CITY.
Ten years the siege of Troy lasted, that mighty struggle that had been
kindled by the flame of jealousy of gods and men, and ten years the
Trojans resisted the Greeks. On both sides the brave fell in battle and
the plain outside of the city of Troy became a waste place, full of
dread and death.
The hero Achilles, while offering up a sacrifice in the temple of
Apollo, was treacherously slain by a poisoned arrow from Paris' bow that
pierced his heel. The Greeks made use of the arrows of Hercules in their
struggle, but even these proved useless against the strong
fortifications of the Trojans. There was a statue of Minerva in the city
of Troy called the Palladium. It was said to have fallen from heaven and
that as long as it remained in the city Troy could not be taken. So the
hero, Ulysses, with a few men, entered Troy in disguise and captured
this statute at the risk of their lives, carrying it back to the camp of
the Greeks, but Troy still held out and the tenth year of the war drew
near a close full of wretchedness and famine.
It seemed as if the spell of Helen's beauty, as she leaned from one of
the towers of King Priam's castle to cheer the Trojans or descended to
pass among their ranks, was their safety. No one, looking on her fair
face, remembered hardship or felt fear, although the fated Cassandra
wept alone, and was deemed mad because she saw, in her prophetic vision,
the fall of the strong battlements of Troy.