Alcmene had recognized the child at first glance, and joyfully she laid him in the cradle. But Hera too became aware who the child was that had lain at her breast and how carelessly she had let the moment for revenge slip by. Immediately she sent two horrible serpents, which crawled through the open doors of Alcmene’s bedchamber and, before the sleeping mother and her handmaids knew what was happening, writhed into the cradle and wound their coils around the boy’s throat. He woke screaming and lifted his head. The unaccustomed necklace was irksome to him. It was then he first proved his superhuman powers. With each hand he seized a serpent by the neck and strangled them both with a single clenching of his fists. His nurses had only just seen the serpents, but they were too frightened to go to the child’s aid. Alcmene had wakened at his scream. She leaped from her bed and ran toward him, calling for help, but found the serpents already dead in the boy’s hands. Startled by her cries, the lords of Thebes armed themselves and hastened to the bedchamber, and King Amphitryon, who loved his stepson and regarded him as a gift from Zeus, came brandishing his naked sword. When he saw and heard what had happened, he shuddered with terror and delight at the miraculous strength of his newborn son. This deed seemed to him a portent, and so he summoned Tiresias, whom Zeus had lent the gift of prophecy. The seer forecast the boy’s future to the king and queen and all those present: how he would slay many monsters on earth and in the sea; how he would strive with giants and defeat them; and how, when his toils in the world were over, he would share in the everlasting life of the gods and be given Hebe, the goddess of eternal youth, in marriage.
THE REARING OF HERACLES
When Amphitryon heard of the noble destiny in store for the boy, he resolved to give him an education worthy of a hero and called upon great men from many lands to teach young Heracles all he should know. Amphitryon himself instructed him in the art of driving the chariot; Eurytus showed him how to bend the bow and aim his arrows. Harpalycus trained him in wrestling and boxing; Castor, one of the twin sons of Zeus, in fighting, fully armed, in field formation. And Linus, the aged son of Apollo, taught him to sing and pluck the strings of the lyre with sureness and grace. Heracles was an apt pupil, but he could not endure harshness, and old Linus was a fault-finding teacher. Once, when he struck the boy—unjustly it seemed to him—Heracles snatched up his instrument, flung it at his teacher’s head, and killed him on the instant, an act which filled him with remorse. He was summoned to court for murder. But the just and famous judge Rhadamanthys acquitted him and made a new law to the effect that if death occurred as a result of self-defense, blood-vengeance should not be sought.
But now Amphitryon feared that this over-strong son of his might become guilty of other similar offenses, and so he sent him to the country to tend his cattle. Here Heracles grew up, surpassing all men in strength and size. This offspring of Zeus was marvellous to behold. He was four ells tall, and fire flashed from his eyes. He never missed the mark, whether he shot with arrows or threw the javelin. At eighteen he was the handsomest and strongest man in Greece, and now the time had come when it was to be seen whether he would use his gifts for good or for evil.
HERACLES AT THE CROSSROADS
Heracles left the shepherds and their beasts and went to a solitary region to consider what his course in life should be. Once, as he sat pondering, he saw two women of tall stature coming toward him. One was beautiful and noble, with modest mien, and her robe fell about her in folds of stainless white. The other was full-bosomed and seductive, and the whiteness of her skin was stressed by powder and tinctures. She carried herself so arrogantly that she seemed taller than she was, and her gown revealed as much of her charms as possible. Now she complacently regarded her own person with bright, vacant eyes, then again she looked around to see if others were watching her, and often she gazed admiringly at her own shadow. As they approached, the first did not quicken her step, but the other crowded past her and ran toward the youth, whom she at once addressed.
“Heracles, I see that you are undecided what course to take in life. If you choose me for your friend, I shall guide you along a path most smooth and easy. There is no pleasure you will not taste, no discomfort you shall not avoid! You will not be concerned with war or other hardship. You shall think of nothing but the enjoyment of exquisite foods and wines, of indulging your eyes, your ears, and your whole body with pleasant sensations, of sleeping on a soft couch—and all these joys will be yours without labor or effort. Should you ever run short of the means for leading this manner of life, do not fear I might urge you to bodily or mental toil. Quite the contrary! You will reap the fruits of another’s labors and refuse nothing that could bring you profit. For I accord my friends the right to use everyone and everything to their own advantage.”
When Heracles heard these seductive promises, he asked in astonishment: “What is your name?” Whereupon she replied: “My friends call me Happiness, but my foes, to humiliate me, have given me the name of Idle Pleasure.”
In the meantime the other woman had approached. “I too have come to you,” she said. “I know your parents, your gifts, and your upbringing. All this leads me to hope that, if you choose the path I show you, you will become a master in all that is good and great. But I have no slothful joys to bribe you with. I shall tell you the will of the gods for those on earth. Know then that the immortals grant nothing to men without effort and toil. If you would have the gods look upon you kindly, you must honor them. If you would have your friends love you, you must aid them. If you would be held in esteem by a city, you must render it services. Would you have all Greece admire you for your virtue, you must become the benefactor of all Greece. If you would harvest, you must sow, if you would wage war and win, you must learn the art of warfare. If you would have control of your body, you must work and sweat to harden it.”
Here Pleasure interrupted her. “Now you see, dear Heracles,” she said, “what a long and hard way to satisfaction this woman proposes, while I will guide you to happiness by the shortest and easiest of paths.”
“Miserable creature!” said Virtue to her. “You have nothing that is really good. How could you? You do not know true pleasures, for you are sated before you even approach them. You eat before you are hungry and drink before you thirst. To prick your desire for food, you seek out resourceful cooks; to sharpen your urge to drink, you purchase costly wines. In summer your whim is for snow. No bed is soft enough for you. You let your friends spend the night in carousing and the day in sleep. That is why in youth they go adorned on nimble carefree feet, but drag themselves through a sordid and painful old age, ashamed of what they have done and faltering under the load of what they have still to do. And you yourself, though you are immortal, are an outcast among gods and an object of derision among good men. You have never heard what sounds sweetest to the ear: true praise! You have never seen what gladdens the eyes more than all else: good works of your own! I, however, am welcome among the gods and all virtuous men. Artists hail me as their helper, fathers as a faithful watch, servingmen as kindly aid. I am an honest sharer in the pursuits of peace, a faithful ally in war, and a loyal companion in friendship. Food and drink and sleep have more savor for my friends than for idlers. The young are glad when the old commend them, the old when they are honored by the young. To recall what they have done is sweet, and they rejoice in what they are doing. Because of me, the gods cherish them, their friends love them, and their country respects them. And when the end has come, they do not fade into oblivion; their glory lives after them in the world, in the memory of times to come. Resolve, O Heracles, to choose this life, and yours will be a blessed lot.”
THE FIRST ADVENTURES OF HERACLES
The apparitions vanished, and Heracles was alone. He determined to walk in the path of Virtue, and soon found an opportunity to do a good deed. At that time Greece was still covered with forests and swamps inhabited by savage lions, raging boars, and other dangerous beasts. To clear the country of these monsters and to free it from th
e robbers who lay in wait for the traveller in lonely places was one of the great goals of the heroes of old. Heracles was destined to continue this work.
When he returned to his people, he learned that a fierce lion had his lair on Mount Cithaeron, at whose foot the herds of King Amphitryon were pastured. The young hero—Virtue’s words still ringing in his ears—made a quick decision. He armed himself, scaled the wild wooded mountain, overcame the lion, flung the skin over his shoulder, and set the gaping jaws on his head as a helmet.
As he was returning from this quest, he met the herald of Erginus, king of the Minyans, who had come for the shameful and unjust yearly tribute exacted from the Thebans. Heracles, who now regarded himself as the champion of all the oppressed, made short work of the messengers, who were already guilty of many abuses, and sent them back to their king mutilated and with ropes around their necks. Erginus demanded that the culprit be delivered up to him, and Creon, king of Thebes, was inclined to obey for fear of his great power. But Heracles persuaded a number of brave youths to go against the enemy with him. In no dwelling, however, were arms to be found, for the Minyans had removed all weapons, lest the Thebans revolt. Then Athene summoned Heracles to her temple and fitted him out with armor of her own, while the youths took from the temples the weapons their fathers had won in conquest and dedicated to the gods. Thus equipped, the hero and his little group of men marched toward the Minyans until they reached a narrow pass, where the vast army of the foe was of no avail. Erginus himself fell in the fight, and his entire host was beaten and dispersed. But in the fray, valiant Amphitryon, the stepfather of Heracles, died of a fatal wound. After the battle was over, Heracles swiftly advanced toward Orchomenus, the capital of the Minyans, forced his way through the gates, burned the king’s palace, and destroyed the city.
All Greece admired his extraordinary courage, and Creon, king of Thebes, rewarded him by giving him his daughter Megara to wife, who later bore him three sons. His mother Alcmene married again, taking for her second husband the judge Rhadamanthys. Even the immortals showered gifts upon the victorious demigod: Hermes gave him a sword, Apollo arrows, Hephaestus a golden quiver, and Athene a brazen cuirass.
HERACLES FIGHTS THE GIANTS
The hero soon had an opportunity to make the gods generous return for the precious gifts they had given him. The giants, creatures with frightful faces, long hair and beards, and scaly dragon tails instead of feet, were monsters whom Gaea, the Earth, had borne Uranus, the sky-god. Now their mother stirred them up against Zeus, the new ruler of the world, because he had banished her elder sons, the Titans, to Tartarus. And so they rushed forth from Erebus, the underworld, to the broad fields of Phlegra, in Thessaly. The very stars paled at sight of them, and Phoebus Apollo turned his sun-chariot in the other direction.
“Go and avenge me and the children of the older gods,” said Mother Earth. “An eagle is tearing at Prometheus, a vulture at Tityus; Atlas is sentenced to carry the sky, and the Titans languish in chains. Avenge them! Come to their rescue! Use my own limbs, the mountains, for rungs and weapons! Ascend to those starry halls! You, Typhoeus, snatch scepter and thunderbolt from the hands of Zeus. Enceladus, you shall conquer the sea and drive Poseidon from his stronghold. Rhoetus shall tear the reins from the hands of the sun-god, and Porphyrion take over the oracle of Delphi.”
At her words the giants burst into deafening applause, as though they had already won the victory and were leading Poseidon or Ares in the triumphal procession, or dragging Apollo away by his beautiful locks. One spoke as though Aphrodite were even now his wife, another planned to woo Artemis, a third Athene. Confident and rejoicing they went toward the mountains of Thessaly, from whence they intended to storm Olympus.
In the meantime, Iris, the messenger of the gods, called together all those in high heaven and those who dwell in rivers and springs. She even summoned the Fates from the underworld. Persephone left her realm of shadowy shapes, and her husband, the king of the silent dead, yoked his steeds that shun the light and drove them up to shining Olympus. As in a besieged city whose dwellers stream from all sides to defend the citadel, so the throng of immortals assembled at their father’s hearth.
“You, who have come together here,” so Zeus addressed them, “see how Gaea is conspiring against us with that new brood of hers. On with you, and see to it that for every one of her sons she sends against us, you send her back a dead body.”
When the father of the gods had ended, a great clap of thunder rang out from the sky, and Gaea answered with a mighty earthquake from below. Nature lapsed into chaos, and all things were as confused as when they were first created. For the giants tore one mountain after another out by the roots. They piled Ossa and Pelion, Oeta and Athos one on top of the other, plucked out Rhodope with half the source of the Hebrus, and when they had climbed this ponderous ladder to the very seat of the gods, they set out to storm Olympus with huge boulders and whole oaks for fire-brands.
An oracle had told the gods that they would not slay a single giant unless a mortal fought on their side. Gaea knew this, and so she cast about for a way to make her sons invulnerable to mortal men. And there was an herb which could have accomplished this, but Zeus stole a march on her. He forbade the dawn, the moon, and the sun to shine, and while Gaea groped about in darkness, he himself quickly cut the herbs and had Athene summon his son Heracles to take part in the fight.
On Olympus, the gods were already in the midst of the struggle. Ares had guided his war-chariot with its snorting steeds into the very thick of the onrushing foe. His golden shield burned brighter than flame, and the crest on his helmet streamed in the wind. He slew the giant Pelorus, whose feet were live serpents, and drove his wheels over the writhing limbs of his fallen adversary. But not until he beheld mortal Heracles, who had just mounted the last step to Olympus, did the monster yield up his three souls. Heracles glanced about the field and selected a mark for his bow. His arrow felled Alcyoneus, who plunged down from that great height but rose with fresh vigor the moment he touched the ground. At Athene’s advice, Heracles too descended and lifted the giant from the earth which had borne him. The instant he was suspended in an alien element he breathed his last.
Now the giant Porphyrion took a threatening step toward Heracles and Hera at once, in order to fight them one by one. But swiftly Zeus roused his desire to look upon the divine face of the goddess, and while he was still tugging at the veil with which she had covered herself, the father of the gods struck him with a thunderbolt, and Heracles finished the work with one of his arrows. Soon after this, the giant Ephialtes stepped out from the ranks of his brothers and looked ahead with enormous flashing eyes.
“What glittering goals for our arrows!” said Heracles to Phoebus Apollo, who was fighting at his side, and shot the right eye from the giant’s head, while the sun-god struck the left. Dionysus felled Eurytus with his thyrsus. A hailstorm of glowing iron from the hand of Hephaestus threw Clytius to the ground. Pallas Athene hurled the island of Sicily upon fleeing Enceladus. The giant Polybotes, whom Poseidon pursued across the sea, fled to Cos, but the sea-god tore off a piece of the island and covered him with it. Hermes, who wore Pluto’s helmet on his head, slew Hippolytus, and the Fates destroyed two others with their brazen clubs. The rest Zeus mowed down with lightning or Heracles shot with his arrows.
For these deeds, the immortals held the demigod in high favor. Those among the gods who had helped in the fight Zeus called Olympians, a term meant to distinguish the brave from the cowards. Two of his sons born of mortal women were also considered worthy to bear this name of honor: Dionysus and Heracles.
HERACLES AND EURYSTHEUS
Before Heracles was born, Zeus had once declared in the council of the gods that the first grandson of Perseus should rule over all of Perseus’ other descendants. This distinction he intended for his and Alcmene’s son. But Hera, who begrudged the son of her rival this honor, had recourse to trickery and saw to it that Eurystheus, who was likewise a grandso
n of Perseus, was born sooner, although he was supposed to come into the world after Heracles. This made Eurystheus king of Mycenae in the land of the Argives, and the later-born Heracles his subject. With growing concern the ruler watched his young kinsman’s rise to fame and summoned him, as a king summons his subject, to impose various labors upon him. Since Heracles would not obey, Zeus himself, who did not wish to oppose his own decree, commanded his son to serve the king of the Argives. And still the demigod was reluctant to become the servant of a mortal. He went to Delphi to consult the oracle, which gave answer that the gods would make amends for the supremacy Eurystheus had got through Hera’s wiles: that Heracles would, indeed, have to perform twelve labors the king imposed upon him, but that thereafter he would become immortal.
This reply weighed on Heracles. To serve one beneath himself offended his pride and wounded his dignity, but he felt that it was unwise and not even possible to disobey Zeus, his father. Hera, who still hated Heracles in spite of the aid he had given the gods, took advantage of this moment and changed his sullen-ness to savage frenzy. He became so utterly mad that he tried to murder his cherished nephew Iolaus, and when the boy managed to escape, shot the children Megara had borne him, imagining that he was aiming his arrows at the giants. It was a long time before his madness left him. But when he realized his terrible mistake, he was bowed down with grief, locked himself into his house, and refused to have anything to do with his fellow men. When time at last lessened his sorrow, he resolved to accept the labors of Eurystheus, and went to him at Tiryns, which was part of his kingdom.
Gods and Heroes of Ancient Greece Page 17