by Unknown
Then Prometheus bade farewell to his brother, and set out for Olympus, carrying with him the stalk of a fennel plant, as long as a staff and hard as wood, but hollow and filled with a white pith which would burn slowly and steadily like the wick of a candle.
At the foot of Olympus he was met by Athena, the Immortal daughter of Zeus, the Lady of Wisdom, who had helped Prometheus in his labours for mankind. There was a strange story told of her birth, which shows that her father Zeus might have taken after the terrible Titans such as Cronos.
For while Zeus was still at war with the Titans, he married Metis, daughter of the friendly Titan, Ocean, and Prometheus came to him and said:
‘Mighty Zeus, if Metis bears you a child, it will be stronger and wiser than you, its father!’
Then Zeus, who knew that whatever Prometheus prophesied was certain to be true, was much alarmed. Metis had all the terrible powers of the Titans, and at that time Zeus was not yet armed with his thunderbolts; but he thought of a clever plan, or maybe Prometheus thought of it for him.
‘Lady Metis,’ he said, ‘I know that you have the wonderful power of turning yourself into any creature you please. I can well believe that you could become a great and magnificent animal such as a lioness or a she-bear; but surely it is beyond your power to turn yourself into so small and worthless a creature as a fly!’
‘Beyond my power, is it?’ cried Metis, forgetting her usual prudence. ‘I’ll show you!’ And in a moment she had turned herself into a fly. Zeus smiled, caught the fly – and swallowed it.
That was the end of Metis, and by swallowing her Zeus added all her wisdom to his own, also her power of shape-shifting. But some months later a terrible pain shot through his head, and grew worse and worse, until he cried out in agony for Prometheus to help him.
Prometheus took his axe and split open the head of Zeus, knowing that an Immortal cannot die, and being himself the master of the art of healing.
Then a great wonder was seen, for from the head of Zeus sprang Athena the daughter of Metis, fully grown and clad in shining armour. She had the wisdom of Metis also, but had no wish to surpass her father Zeus. Her wisdom was of a gentler kind, so that she became the teacher of such arts as spinning and weaving, and also of good and wise government. But she had some of her mother’s fierceness also, as she proved by joining in the battle at her father’s side, and slaying the Titan Pallas, whose skin she flayed off to make her cloak and whose name she added to her own, so that all who were unjust might fear the terrible voice of Pallas Athena. She could be jealous too, as she proved when the mortal maiden Arachne boasted that her skill in weaving was greater than Athena’s, for, not content with proving her superiority by a contest, Athena turned the foolish girl into a spider – to weave cobwebs and useless gossamer.
But Athena was always friendly to Prometheus, and interested in his work for mankind; and so when she knew that he had decided to give them Fire, she led him by the secret paths to the summit of Olympus.
As day drew to an end, Helios drove up in his shining chariot, and Prometheus, hiding by the gateway, needed but to stretch out his fennel-stalk and touch the golden wheel. Then, the precious spark concealed under his cloak, he hastened down the mountain side, and away into a deep valley of Arcadia where he heaped up a pile of wood and kindled it.
The first people upon earth to see the wonderful new gift of fire were the wild Satyrs who dwelt in the lonely valleys. Slowly and shyly they gathered round the edge of the glade in which Prometheus had lighted the first campfire; and gradually they drew nearer and nearer.
‘Oh the lovely thing!’ they cried as they felt the warmth. ‘How beautifully it dances; how warm, and gentle, and comforting this new creature is!’
‘Oh how I love it!’ cried Silenus. ‘It shall be mine, mine! See, I will kiss the lovely creature, to prove it!’
With that he knelt down and tried to kiss the tallest and brightest tongue of flame. The look on his face was so comical as the flame scorched him and burnt his beard, that Prometheus sat back and roared with laughter.
But he had more serious work in hand, and when day dawned he began to teach men the uses of Fire. He showed them how to cook meat and bake bread; how to make bronze and smelt iron; how to hammer the hot metals into swords and plough-shares, and all the other cunning crafts of the smith and the metal-worker.
Now that Fire had come upon the Earth, fire could be kindled there whenever it was needed. So Prometheus, with the help of Hermes, invented rubbing-sticks and taught men which woods to use and how to twirl the hard piece in the soft until fire was kindled by the friction.
So mankind came into his true inheritance: cities began to grow up, and men to practise all the arts and crafts for which Greece was soon to become famous.
But Zeus, as soon as he became aware that his command had been disobeyed and the gift which he withheld had been stolen and given to men, summoned Prometheus before him.
‘Titan!’ he cried fiercely. ‘You have disobeyed me! What is there to prevent me from casting you down into Tartarus with your brethren, and destroying these vile insects, these men, to whom you have given gifts reserved for the Immortals alone?’
‘Lord Zeus,’ answered Prometheus quietly, ‘I know what is to come, and how cruelly you will punish me for all I have done. But there are two things you cannot do: no Immortal may take away the gift an Immortal has once given – so you will not deprive men of fire now that I have made it theirs. And I am certain that you will not destroy mankind, when I tell you that a man – your son, born of a mortal woman – will save you and all of you who dwell in Olympus on that future day when Earth will bring forth the Giants meaning to be revenged for the overthrow of the Titans. This I tell you, and you know that my words are true: no Immortal can slay a Giant, but a Man can slay them, if he be strong and brave enough. And I will tell you this also: at a certain time in the future you will fall as your father fell.’
Then the wrath of Zeus was terrible. In a voice of thunder he bade his son Hephaestus, the Immortal whose skill was in the working of metals, take Prometheus and bind him with fetters of brass to the great mountain of Caucasus on the eastern edge of the world.
‘There you shall lie,’ he cried in his cruel rage, ‘for ever and ever as a punishment for your daring and disobedience. The snows of winter will freeze you, and the summer sun will burn you: and your fate shall be a warning to all who would disobey!’
Then sorrowfully Hephaestus took Prometheus, and at his command his two servants, the demons Might and Force, chained him to the rock with fetters that he could not break.
But as Hephaestus was about to leave him there, Prometheus said:
‘Zeus, that cruel tyrant, will fall as Cronos fell, unless he can find out how to avert his doom. And how to do that, I alone know!’
Hephaestus reported these words, and Hermes was sent to offer Prometheus his freedom if he would tell the secret.
‘If you do not at once disclose what you know,’ said Hermes, ‘Zeus will torture you until you do so. He will send a fierce eagle who will visit you every day and devour your liver: and every night your liver will grow again so that next day your agonies may be repeated.’
Still Prometheus would not say how Zeus could avoid the fate which hung over him, and, though the eagle did as Zeus had threatened, still he would not tell. But at times his screams echoed over the haunted cliffs and chasms of Caucasus, so that none dared to approach.
Meanwhile Zeus, a prey to fears for the future, and still made cruel by terror, sought how he might plague mankind so that the gift of fire might not make them too happy.
Now at first men had full knowledge of their own future, and Zeus, not knowing that Prometheus, with his great foresight, had taken this power from them, decided to make them immortal also, so that when he had worked his will on them and set free sin and care in the world, they might go mad with terror knowing the sorrows and sufferings which lay in store for them.
He went cunni
ngly to work, visiting men in disguise and asking who had given them the gift of Fire.
And men betrayed their benefactor, Prometheus, with cruel thoughtlessness. This gave Zeus his excuse: ‘I will reward you,’ he said, ‘for telling me what I wanted to know, by giving you a jar of nectar, the drink of the Immortals, which keeps them for ever young.’
The men who received this precious gift were overjoyed; but with the usual folly and laziness of mankind, they put it on the back of a donkey and drove it before them towards a place where they meant to keep it in safety. Presently they came to a spring of clear water bubbling from the rock, and when they had refreshed themselves, they sat down to eat at a little distance, leaving the donkey to graze near by.
Soon the donkey felt thirsty too, and went over to the spring for a drink. But now there was a cunning snake guarding it, who spoke to the donkey with crafty words.
‘If you touch my spring, I will bite you, and you will die in agony from the poison.’
‘I am dying already – of thirst’ – protested the donkey. ‘So please let me drink a little of the cool spring water.’
‘Well,’ said the guileful Serpent, ‘I’ll make a bargain with you. Give me the wine in the jar on your back. It’s warm, and nasty, and donkeys don’t like wine, anyway. If you give it to me, I’ll let you drink as much water from my cool, refreshing spring as you please.’
‘Agreed,’ cried the donkey eagerly, and the exchange was made – and that is why snakes renew their youth every year, casting off the old skin and appearing as young and shining as ever.
When Zeus discovered that men could no longer foresee the future, he was rather pleased that the snake had cheated the donkey: for he knew that in the days to come many serpents would bite both men and asses, and that snakebite produces a worse fever of thirst than anything.
Meanwhile he was busy on a surer punishment for Man: he was making the first Woman. Her name was Pandora, which means ‘all-gifted’, for all of the Immortals helped to endow her. Clever Hephaestus shaped her out of clay, and lovely Aphrodite gave her beauty, while Hermes taught her cunning and boldness, and Athena dressed her in lovely clothes. Zeus breathed life into her, and then Hermes led her down to earth and brought her to Epimetheus, the thoughtless brother of Prometheus, who lived now more or less as a man among men.
When Epimetheus saw the beauty of Pandora he forgot his brother’s warning against accepting any gift from Zeus, and fell in love with her at once. Very soon they were married, and they had a daughter called Pyrrha, who married Deucalion, the wisest and most virtuous of all the First Men whom Prometheus had fashioned out of clay.
But meanwhile Pandora brought all the evil upon mankind which Zeus had planned.
In the house of Epimetheus stood a golden box which Prometheus had left there with strict orders that no one was to open it. Epimetheus told his wife this, but she was so curious and inquisitive that life did not seem worth living until she knew what treasure it was that her husband was hiding from her.
So one day when he was out, Pandora crept quietly to the golden casket and lifted the lid. Then with a rush and a cry out came all the ills which beset mankind – diseases, and sorrows, hate, jealousy, lies, theft, cheating, and a hundred others.
Terrified at what she had done, Pandora slammed down the lid. But a little voice cried: ‘Let me out too! I am Hope!’
For Prometheus had placed Hope there when he shut up the evil things, so that mankind might not suffer quite so much if Zeus had his way.
CHAPTER FOUR
HOW ZEUS AND HERMES WENT
VISITING
The gods are angry: we shall never be
Now as of old, when far from all men we
Dwelt in a lonely land and languorous,
Circled and sundered by the sleeping sea.
Yea, the Olympians then were wont to go
Among us, visible godheads, to and fro.
J.W. MACKAIL
In Scheria
4
Time went by and men settled down all over the earth as if it had always been theirs. And Zeus was pleased with what he saw as he looked down from Olympus, and busied himself setting the rest of the world to rights after the desolation made by the Titans.
Of course it was to Greece that he gave most of his attention, though he did not neglect the islands of the Aegean Sea which separates Greece from Asia Minor, nor that part of the mainland beyond which is called Troy.
When he was tired with his labours, Zeus would go southwards to the land of the Blessed Ethiopians, men of the Silver Age who had not learnt the wickedness of the Titans, and who often entertained the Immortals at their banquets.
But the evils which Pandora had let loose from the golden casket found their way surely enough into the hearts of men, and some even in Greece became almost as wicked as those of the Silver Age whom Zeus had destroyed before Prometheus made Man as we know him out of clay.
Rumours of wickedness beyond belief came to Zeus, and he began to wonder whether he could destroy the people of the Bronze Age and make yet another race of men: but without Prometheus to help him, he hesitated. At last he decided to see for himself, and so he called to him his son Hermes and said:
‘Let us take upon ourselves the form and likeness of men and go down into the land of Greece and seek entertainment as if we were poor travellers. And if we find that men are not fit to live upon the beautiful earth, I will destroy them utterly.’
Hermes, who loved mankind and had helped Prometheus, replied:
‘Father Zeus, let us not be over hasty. If we visit three households, and find that two out of the three merit destruction, then let mankind perish. But if we find virtue and kindness in even two, however wicked the third may be, then spare the good. But bring whatever doom you like upon the wicked.’
This pleased Zeus, who had grown less cruel than in the days when he sent Prometheus to his terrible doom and made Pandora to be a plague to all mankind.
He agreed to what Hermes suggested, and the two Immortals began their wanderings in the land of Arcadia, Zeus disguised as an old man and Hermes as his grandson.
Now at that time the King of Arcadia was Lycaon, a fierce, savage man given to all manner of evil. He had fifty sons, and most of them were as bad as he was, and like him they were cannibals.
Zeus and Hermes entered King Lycaon’s palace, and at first he refused to give them food, and even threatened to kill them. Hermes so young and handsome would make him an excellent feast; perhaps it was this which made him change his mind.
Certainly he bade Zeus sit down at his table: perhaps he considered Hermes already a prisoner being fattened up for a future banquet. Suddenly Lycaon realized that there was no fresh meat ready for that day; but this did not trouble him over much, since he had one son, Nyctimus, who was not as wicked as the rest, and always refused to eat human flesh. On this day he had dared to tell his father that to eat one of his guests was the wickedest thing a man could do.
‘You’re only fit for stewing!’ snarled Lycaon; and so Nyctimus was killed, jointed, and put in the pot.
When this hideous meal was placed on the table, Zeus the all-seeing knew at once what the dish was which was set before him. Filled with rage he sprang to his feet, and a great light shone round him as Lycaon cowered away, realizing in a moment of terror that his guest was none other than the King of the Immortals.
‘Wretch!’ cried Zeus. ‘All that I have heard of you is true! You are not fit to be a man! Go forth into the wilderness and haunt the lonely mountains and dangerous valleys: be a wolf, and your impious sons with you!’
Then Lycaon tried to answer, but all he could utter was the howl of a wolf. He tried to fall upon his knees, only to find that he was already on all fours. So he fled away into the forests of Arcadia with his sons behind him, a wolf at the head of his pack.
Zeus restored Nyctimus to life and bade him rule justly and well. Then he and Hermes, once more in disguise, continued on their way.
/> ‘You see,’ said Zeus presently. ‘Men are as wicked as I thought. Is there need of further search?’
‘Remember your promise,’ answered Hermes. ‘And this time, let us seek hospitality of a poor man: perhaps we may find a virtue among the humble which is lacking to a king such as Lycaon.’
So they went on across the world, passing at will over sea and land, and came in the evening to a mountain top near Tyana in Phrygia. Here stood a little cottage thatched with straw, and the walls made of reeds and clay. There were no servants in this house, indeed its only inhabitants were an old man and his wife whose names were Philemon and Baucis.
Poor though they were, these two welcomed the travellers kindly, made up the fire with their last dry faggot, put on the pot to boil, and cut up their only joint of smoked bacon which hung from the beam.
They prepared a bed for their guests, the only bed in the house, and heaped all the rugs they possessed upon it. Then they laid the table and set the supper before the two strangers.
Besides the meat there were olives and cheese; eggs roasted in the warm embers, and what little store they had of dried figs, dates, and nuts. Old Baucis, her hands trembling with age, served the meal, while Philemon placed two wooden cups upon the table and poured into them wine from the only jar that remained to him.
All this they did with simple kindness, talking to their guests and making them welcome, without the slightest idea that they were anything but human travellers as poor as themselves.
But when Philemon came to re-fill the cups which he had seen his guests drain to the dregs, he found them both still full of wine – and of wine so sweet and fragrant that the delicious scent of it filled the whole cottage. Then he fell on his knees before the guests: