Various - Myths That Every Child Should Know

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The Gorgons were more like an awful, gigantic kind of insect--immense,
golden-winged beetles, or dragon-flies, or things of that sort--at once
ugly and beautiful--than like anything else; only that they were a
thousand and a million times as big. And, with all this, there was
something partly human about them, too. Luckily for Perseus, their faces
were completely hidden from him by the posture in which they lay; for,
had he but looked one instant at them, he would have fallen heavily out
of the air, an image of senseless stone.

"Now," whispered Quicksilver, as he hovered by the side of Perseus--"now
is your time to do the deed! Be quick; for, if one of the Gorgons should
awake, you are too late!"

"Which shall I strike at?" asked Perseus, drawing his sword and
descending a little lower. "They all three look alike. All three have
snaky locks. Which of the three is Medusa?"

It must be understood that Medusa was the only one of these dragon
monsters whose head Perseus could possibly cut off. As for the other
two, let him have the sharpest sword that ever was forged, and he might
have hacked away by the hour together, without doing them the least
harm.

"Be cautious," said the calm voice which had before spoken to him. "One
of the Gorgons is stirring in her sleep, and is just about to turn over.
That is Medusa. Do not look at her! The sight would turn you to stone!
Look at the reflection of her face and figure in the bright mirror of
your shield."

Perseus now understood Quicksilver's motive for so earnestly exhorting
him to polish his shield. In its surface he could safely look at the
reflection of the Gorgon's face. And there it was--that terrible
countenance--mirrored in the brightness of the shield, with the
moonlight falling over it, and displaying all its horror. The snakes,
whose venomous natures could not altogether sleep, kept twisting
themselves over the forehead. It was the fiercest and most horrible face
that ever was seen or imagined, and yet with a strange, fearful, and
savage kind of beauty in it. The eyes were closed, and the Gorgon was
still in a deep slumber; but there was an unquiet expression disturbing
her features, as if the monster was troubled with an ugly dream. She
gnashed her white tusks, and dug into the sand with her brazen claws.

The snakes, too, seemed to feel Medusa's dream, and to be made more
restless by it. They twined themselves into tumultuous knots, writhed
fiercely, and uplifted a hundred hissing heads, without opening their
eyes.

"Now, now!" whispered Quicksilver, who was growing impatient. "Make a
dash at the monster!"

"But be calm," said the grave, melodious voice at the young man's side.
"Look in your shield, as you fly downward, and take care that you do not
miss your first stroke."

Perseus flew cautiously downward, still keeping his eyes on Medusa's
face, as reflected in his shield. The nearer he came, the more terrible
did the snaky visage and metallic body of the monster grow. At last,
when he found himself hovering over her within arm's length, Perseus
uplifted his sword, while, at the same instant, each separate snake upon
the Gorgon's head stretched threateningly upward, and Medusa unclosed
her eyes. But she awoke too late. The sword was sharp; the stroke fell
like a lightning flash; and the head of the wicked Medusa tumbled from
her body!

"Admirably done!" cried Quicksilver. "Make haste, and clap the head into
your magic wallet."

To the astonishment of Perseus, the small, embroidered wallet, which he
had hung about his neck, and which had hitherto been no bigger than a
purse, grew all at once large enough to contain Medusa's head. As quick
as thought, he snatched it up, with the snakes still writhing upon it,
and thrust it in.

"Your task is done," said the calm voice. "Now fly; for the other
Gorgons will do their utmost to take vengeance for Medusa's death."

It was, indeed, necessary to take flight; for Perseus had not done the
deed so quietly but that the clash of his sword, and the hissing of the
snakes, and the thump of Medusa's head as it tumbled upon the sea-beaten
sand, awoke the other two monsters. There they sat, for an instant,
sleepily rubbing their eyes with their brazen fingers, while all the
snakes on their heads reared themselves on end with surprise, and with
venomous malice against they knew not what. But when the Gorgons saw the
scaly carcass of Medusa, headless, and her golden wings all ruffled and
half spread out on the sand, it was really awful to hear what yells and
screeches they set up. And then the snakes! They sent forth a
hundredfold hiss, with one consent, and Medusa's snakes answered them
out of the magic wallet.

No sooner were the Gorgons broad awake than they hurtled upward into the
air, brandishing their brass talons, gnashing their horrible tusks, and
flapping their huge wings so wildly, that some of the golden feathers
were shaken out, and floated down upon the shore. And there, perhaps,
those very feathers lie scattered till this day. Up rose the Gorgons, as
I tell you, staring horribly about, in hopes of turning somebody to
stone. Had Perseus looked them in the face, or had he fallen into their
clutches, his poor mother would never have kissed her boy again! But he
took good care to turn his eyes another way; and, as he wore the helmet
of invisibility, the Gorgons knew not in what direction to follow him;
nor did he fail to make the best use of the winged slippers, by soaring
upward a perpendicular mile or so. At that height, when the screams of
those abominable creatures sounded faintly beneath him, he made a
straight course for the island of Seriphus, in order to carry Medusa's
head to King Polydectes.

I have no time to tell you of several marvellous things that befell
Perseus on his way homeward; such as his killing a hideous sea monster,
just as it was on the point of devouring a beautiful maiden; nor how he
changed an enormous giant into a mountain of stone, merely by showing
him the head of the Gorgon. If you doubt this latter story, you may make
a voyage to Africa, some day or other, and see the very mountain, which
is still known by the ancient giant's name.

Finally, our brave Perseus arrived at the island, where he expected to
see his dear mother. But, during his absence, the wicked king had
treated Danae so very ill that she was compelled to make her escape, and
had taken refuge in a temple, where some good old priests were extremely
kind to her. These praiseworthy priests, and the kind-hearted fisherman,
who had first shown hospitality to Danae and little Perseus when he
found them afloat in the chest, seem to have been the only persons on
the island who cared about doing right. All the rest of the people, as
well as King Polydectes himself, were remarkably ill behaved, and
deserved no better destiny than that which was now to happen.

Not finding his mother at home, Perseus went straight to the palace, and
was immediately ushered into the presence of the king. Polydectes was by
no means rejoiced to see him; for he had felt almost certain, in his own
evil mind, that the Gorgons would have torn the poor young man to
pieces, and have eaten him up, out of the way. However, seeing him
safely returned, he put the best face he could upon the matter and asked
Perseus how he had succeeded.

"Have you performed your promise?" inquired he. "Have you brought me the
head of Medusa with the snaky locks? If not, young man, it will cost you
dear; for I must have a bridal present for the beautiful Princess
Hippodamia, and there is nothing else that she would admire so much."

"Yes, please Your Majesty," answered Perseus, in a quiet way, as if it
were no very wonderful deed for such a young man as he to perform. "I
have brought you the Gorgon's head, snaky locks and all!"

"Indeed! Pray let me see it," quoth King Polydectes. "It must be a very
curious spectacle, if all that travellers tell about it be true!"

"Your Majesty is in the right," replied Perseus. "It is really an object
that will be pretty certain to fix the regards of all who look at it.
And, if Your Majesty think fit, I would suggest that a holiday be
proclaimed, and that all Your Majesty's subjects be summoned to behold
this wonderful curiosity. Few of them, I imagine, have seen a Gorgon's
head before, and perhaps never may again!"

The king well knew that his subjects were an idle set of reprobates, and
very fond of sightseeing, as idle persons usually are. So he took the
young man's advice, and sent out heralds and messengers, in all
directions, to blow the trumpet at the street corners, and in the market
places, and wherever two roads met, and summon everybody to court.
Thither, accordingly, came a great multitude of good-for-nothing
vagabonds, all of whom, out of pure love of mischief, would have been
glad if Perseus had met with some ill-hap in his encounter with the
Gorgons. If there were any better people in the island (as I really hope
there may have been, although the story tells nothing about any such),
they stayed quietly at home, minding their business, and taking care of
their little children. Most of the inhabitants, at all events, ran as
fast as they could to the palace, and shoved, and pushed, and elbowed
one another in their eagerness to get near a balcony, on which Perseus
showed himself, holding the embroidered wallet in his hand.

On a platform, within full view of the balcony, sat the mighty King
Polydectes, amid his evil counsellors, and with his flattering courtiers
in a semi-circle round about him. Monarch, counsellors, courtiers, and
subjects, all gazed eagerly toward Perseus.

"Show us the head! Show us the head!" shouted the people; and there was
a fierceness in their cry as if they would tear Perseus to pieces,
unless he should satisfy them with what he had to show. "Show us the
head of Medusa with the snaky locks!"

A feeling of sorrow and pity came over the youthful Perseus.

"O King Polydectes," cried he, "and ye many people, I am very loath to
show you the Gorgon's head!"

"Ah, the villain and coward!" yelled the people, more fiercely than
before. "He is making game of us! He has no Gorgon's head! Show us the
head if you have it, or we will take your own head for a football!"

The evil counsellors whispered bad advice in the king's ear; the
courtiers murmured, with one consent, that Perseus had shown disrespect
to their royal lord and master; and the great King Polydectes himself
waved his hand, and ordered him, with the stern, deep voice of
authority, on his peril, to produce the head.

"Show me the Gorgon's head, or I will cut off your own!"

And Perseus sighed.

"This instant," repeated Polydectes, "or you die!"

"Behold it then!" cried Perseus, in a voice like the blast of a trumpet.

And, suddenly holding up the head, not an eyelid had time to wink before
the wicked King Polydectes, his evil counsellors, and all his fierce
subjects were no longer anything but the mere images of a monarch and
his people. They were all fixed, forever, in the look and attitude of
that moment! At the first glimpse of the terrible head of Medusa, they
whitened into marble! And Perseus thrust the head back into his wallet,
and went to tell his dear mother that she need no longer be afraid of
the wicked King Polydectes.

CHAPTER VI

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 seashore, 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 neighbouring hills.

"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
snowdrift, wafted along by the wind. Once he 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 recognised 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
seashore, 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 toward 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 seafaring person in the neighbourhood; he had
been brought up with the young princess, 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 labours 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 waded, had
not washed it all away. When they had been gone a year, Telephassa threw
away her crown, because it chafed her forehead.

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