Books: Classic Myths
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Retold by Mary Catherine Judd >> Classic Myths
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No beast will attack mankind when protected by a blazing torch. The gift
of Prometheus shows the wisdom of Minerva.
BEYOND THE FIRE ISLAND
_Russian_
Once there was a man who decided to take a journey to the uttermost end
of the world where it touches the sky. He thought he could reach that
point only by sea, but being tired of the water decided to travel on the
wings of an eagle. A raven told him better, however, for the nights are
months long in the far Northland and the eagle loves the sunlight.
Then this man, who was a king, gave orders to fell the greatest oak tree
in his three kingdoms. Olaf the Brave undertook this task. The oak tree
was very large and neither sun, moon, nor stars could shine between its
leaves, they were so close together. The king commanded that deep-sea
sailing ships should be made from its trunk, warships from its crown,
merchant ships from its branches, children's boats from the splinters,
and maidens' rowing boats from the chips.
But the wise men of Norway and Finland assembled and gave the king
advice. They told him that it was no use building a wooden ship, for the
spirits of the Northern Lights would set it on fire. Then the king made
a ship of silver. The whole of the ship--planking, deck, masts, and
chains--was of silver, and he named his vessel "The Flyer."
Then--for this was ages ago--he provided golden armor for himself,
silver armor for his nobles, iron for the crew, copper for the old men,
and steel for the wise men.
When everything was ready, he and his sailors set out for Finland. But
they soon turned and headed "The Flyer" to the far north. The Great Bear
in the sky guided them.
At the helm of the ship was a wise pilot who knew all languages and
the speech of birds and beasts. The winds of Finland were angry
because he slighted their country, and a great storm arose and blew
the ship out of her course. The birds sang to the helmsman and told
him by their song that his ship was being driven on the bleak and
desolate coast of Lapland.
The king and his bold comrades succeeded in landing in Lapland, but
could find no people. At last a sailor discovered a house. In it
dwelt a wise man and his daughter. The king asked the wise man the
way to the end of the world. The wise man answered that he had asked
a vain question.
"The sea has no end, and those who go westward have found their death in
the Fire Island. Turn homeward and live," said the wise man.
The king only answered by asking the wise Lapp if he would be their
guide to the Fire Island. He consented and went aboard the ship. His
name was Varrak.
He steered the boat due north for thirty days and thirty nights. The
first danger they met was a great whirlpool, whose center was a vast
hole into which had been drawn many a brave ship. Varrak threw overboard
a small barrel wrapped in red cloth and trimmed with many red streamers,
but with a rope attached to it. A whale swallowed this bait and then
tried to escape as he felt the rope pulling him. In his flight he towed
the ship to a safe place in the open sea.
This brought them far westward and at last they came within sight of the
Island of Fire. Iceland, men call it now, but surely it has as much fire
as ice. From the middle of this Iceland they could see great pillars of
flame and vast clouds of smoke ascending into the air.
Varrak warned the king of his danger, but was commanded to run the boat
ashore. Those who explored the land found a vast mountain casting up
flames and another mountain pouring out smoke. Soon the party came
across great spouting fountains of boiling water, and they found the
ground beneath their feet to be burning lava.
The son of Sulev, who was leading this exploring party, wandered through
snow-fields covered with ashes. A shower of red-hot stones warned him
that he was near the volcano. Going too close to this burning mountain,
his hair and eyebrows were singed and his clothing took fire. He rolled
in the snow and saved himself.
Then the son of Sulev thought it best to go back to the ship. Calling
his party together, he found that the youngest, the yellow-haired boy
who was cupbearer to the king, was gone. The birds told the helmsman,
the wise Lapp, that the lad had made friends with the water-sprites
beyond the snow mountains and would never return.
The winds drove the ship about for many days till she grounded again on
a strange shore.
Another party of nobles and sailors went to search this country. Being
tired, they lay down under an ash tree and fell asleep. The people in
this land were giants, and a giant's daughter found them. They were so
very small to the giant child that she picked them up and put them in
her apron, and carried them home to her father.
"Look at these strange creatures, father," she said. "I found them
asleep under a head of cabbage in our garden. What are they?"
The giant knew them to be men from the east. Now the east has always
been noted for its wisdom, so he questioned these men with riddles.
"What walks along the grass, steps on the edge of the fence, and walks
along the sides of the reeds?" he asked.
"The bee," answered the wise man of the party.
"What drinks from the brooks and wells, and from the stones on
the bank?"
"The rainbow," replied the wise man.
Then the giant told his little daughter to put the strangers back
exactly where she had found them. But the wise man asked her to carry
them to the ship just for fun. She leaned over the vessel like a vast
cloud and shook them out of her white apron upon the deck. Then with one
long breath she blew the ship four miles out to sea. The king shouted
back his thanks.
But that wind blew northwest instead of north. The cold was intense and
they watched from midnight to midnight the combats in the air between
the spirits of the Northern Lights. The sailors were frightened, but the
king was pleased. He was farther north than ever before.
The helmsman warned them that they were approaching another shore. No
birds welcomed them or sang them the name of the country. Men dressed in
the skins of dogs and bears met them as they landed, and took them to
their homes on sledges of ice drawn by dogs. Their houses were of blocks
of ice and snow, and their talk sounded like dogs barking.
The king did not like these people, for their land was cold. The wise
man told him again that his search was an idle one. The end of the world
was not for mortal eyes to see. At last the king believed him and sailed
homeward. No man to this day has been able to find the far north, the
end of the world.
A LEGEND OF THE NORTH WIND
_Norse_
North Wind likes a bit of fun as dearly as a boy does, and it is with
boys he likes best to romp and play.
One day North Wind saw a brave little fellow eating his lunch under a
tree. Just as he went to bite his bread, North Wind blew it out of his
hand and swept away everything else that he had brought for his lunch.
"You hateful North Wind!" cried the little fellow. "Give me back my
supper. I'm so hungry."
[Illustration: BOREAS, THE GOD OF THE NORTH WIND]
Now North Wind, like all brave beings, is noble, and so he tried to make
up for the mischief he had done.
"Here, take this tablecloth," said North Wind, "and, in whatever house
you stay, spread it on the table; then wish, and you shall have
everything you wish for to eat."
"All right!" said the boy, and he took the tablecloth and ran as fast as
he could to the first house, which proved to be an inn.
"I have enough to pay for lodging, so I'll stay all night," he said
to himself.
"Bring me a table," he ordered the innkeeper, as he went to his room.
"Ha! ha!" laughed the innkeeper. "You mean bring me a supper."
"No, I don't. I want only a table and that right quick. I'm hungry."
The innkeeper brought the table, but, after the door was shut, he
watched through the keyhole to see what would happen.
"Beans, bread, and bacon," ordered the boy, as he spread out his
tablecloth. On came beans, bread, and bacon through the open window,
whirled in by North Wind. Smoking hot they all were, too, for the dishes
were tightly covered. After supper was over, the boy went sound asleep.
North Wind did not waken him as the innkeeper took the table and the
table-cloth and carried them down-stairs. Next morning the boy was
hungry again, but there was no tablecloth and so no breakfast.
"You are a cheat, North Wind; you have taken back your tablecloth."
[Illustration: TOWER OF THE WINDS AT ATHENS]
"No," said North Wind, "that is not the way I do." But the boy did not
get his tablecloth.
After a time North Wind met him again out under the trees.
"This time I will give you a sheep," he said. "Each time that you rub
his wool, out will drop a gold piece. Take care of him."
The boy ran back and found the sheep at the door of the stable, behind
the inn. He caught the sheep by a strap which was around its neck, and
led it slowly up the stairs of the inn, to the room from which the
tablecloth had disappeared the night before.
As the boy was hungry for his breakfast, he obeyed North Wind's command
and patted the sheep upon its back. A gold piece fell out of its fleece
upon the floor.
"Good old North Wind!" said the boy. "Here's my breakfast and some
hay for my sheep. Come breakfast, come hay," and through the open
window came first a bundle of hay, and then a fine breakfast for the
hungry boy. After breakfast the boy paid for a week's lodging with
the gold piece.
He slept soundly that night with his sheep for his pillow, and the next
night also, but the third morning when the boy awoke, his head lay upon
the floor and the sheep was gone.
Perhaps too many gold pieces had been seen in the boy's hand, for he had
patted his sheep very often.
He accused North Wind again. "You have taken back your sheep. I don't
like you. You are as cold-hearted as you can be."
But North Wind said nothing. He put a queer stick into a bag and
gave it to the boy and told him to go back and lock his door as
tightly as before.
"Talk to the bag," he said, "and guard it as carefully as if there was a
jewel in it."
That night the boy was wakened out of his soundest sleep by screams for
help in his room. There was the innkeeper running about, and that queer
stick was pounding him, first on the head, then on the feet, then on his
back, then in his face.
"Help! help!" he cried.
"Give me back my sheep," said the boy.
"Get it; it is hidden in the barn," said the innkeeper.
The boy went out and found his sheep in the barn and drove it away as
fast as he could, but he forgot about the innkeeper, and, maybe, that
stick is pounding him to this day.
ORPHEUS, THE SOUTH WIND
_Greek_
In the land of Thrace there lived, years ago, one who was called
Orpheus. He was the sweetest singer ever known. His voice was low and
soft.
When men heard this voice all anger ceased, and their thoughts were
thoughts of peace. Even wild animals were tamed.
Orpheus went into the woods one day and took nothing but his harp with
him.
No quiver of arrows was on his back, nor hunting spear at his side.
He sang and sang till the birds flew down on the ground about him, and
seemed to think that a creature with such a voice must be merely another
kind of bird.
[Illustration: ORPHEUS. Showing his broken harp]
A wild cat came creeping slyly between the trees, trying to catch the
little feathered listeners. Orpheus took his lute and played upon it,
and the wild cat became as tame as the birds. They all followed Orpheus
farther into the forest.
Soon, from behind a rock, a tiger sprang to attack the wild cat. The
birds and the wild cat called to Orpheus. When he saw the trouble he
took his harp again, and while he sang the tiger came trembling and
purring to his feet and the birds, the wild cat, and the tiger followed
Orpheus still farther into the forest.
He sat down by a tree to rest and the bees came and showed him where
their honey was hidden in the tree. He fed his friends, and then he and
the tiger led the way to a river where there was the purest water.
Tall trees bent low before him, and young trees tore themselves from the
ground and followed in his train.
Foul waters parted so that Orpheus and his band might pass through
unharmed; they knew no longer any evil thing.
Before they reached the river of pure water, to which the tiger was
leading them, a lion, fierce with anger, sprang madly at his old enemy.
Orpheus took his harp and played so wonderfully that the pine trees
sighed with sorrow, and the lion, loosing his hold on the tiger,
followed the sweet singer of Thrace. At the river the birds, the wild
cat, the tiger, and the lion drank together with Orpheus, with not one
thought of hurting one another.
"We are tired," said the birds. "Let us stay here by this river," and
Orpheus agreed. The birds flew to the trees, while the others tried to
rest on the huge rocks by the shore, but these were jagged and rough.
They would give no rest to any one.
Then Orpheus began to play, and the hardest rocks were stirred. They
rolled over and over into the river, and in their places the softest
beds of white sand were ready for all. Orpheus rested, with the lion and
the tiger for his night-watchers, and the wild cat asleep in the tree
with the birds.
In the morning the harp sounded again, and the strange company wandered
away, happy to be near the music. The three wild beasts fed together on
the river grasses and forgot that they had been life-long enemies.
Orpheus had said, before he came into the wood, that he was tired of men
and their quarrels; that wild beasts were easier to tame than angry men;
and so he found it during these two days in the forest.
He took his harp and played and sang a sweet, wild song of love and
peace, and overhead the leaves and branches of the oaks danced for joy
of living. Not one growl, not one quarrel was heard where even the
echoes of the music went. The very rocks answered the voice of Orpheus,
and everything was at peace.
Then came the sound of the hunting dogs. The lion raised his shaggy
head, but put it down again. Savage light came again into the eyes of
the tiger and of the wild cat. The dogs came nearer. Orpheus played on
his lute and the dogs came and lay down at his feet, and the hunters
went home without their prey.
That night Orpheus led the birds and beasts all back to the places
where he had found them, and went home to live once more in his cave
in Thrace.
For years hunters told, over their camp-fires, strange stories of a
tiger and a lion who lived together in the deep forest; of a wild cat
with eyes like a pet fawn; and of birds whose songs were so sweet that
wild beasts grew tame as they listened.
Sometimes, even in these days, it seems as if Orpheus were
singing again.
When the wind stirs, there comes sweet music. The pine trees sigh, the
leaves and branches of the forest trees dance as in the days when
Orpheus first went into the woods of Thrace.
When the south wind blows, earth's voices become low and sweet, and the
birds sing soft melodies to greet its coming.
Old books tell us that Orpheus was really the south wind itself.
THE LITTLE WIND-GOD
_Greek_
"What is it in the thermometer that shines so, mother?"
"Oh, that is quicksilver, Ethel. See the line of silver run up the tube
while I hold it in my hand."
"Quicksilver? I should think it was quick! See it run back, now the
tube is cool. But father called it something else the other night.
What was it?"
"Oh, yes; he called it mercury, my dear. It is named after one of the
gods the Greeks used to worship, their swift wind-god, Mercury. We read
of him in many old stories. He was so quick that he became a messenger
boy for the other gods."
"Oh, I like those old myths. Tell me about Mercury. I am going to
name my dove after him, for it takes messages for me. Tell me a long
one, please."
"Well, my dear, Mercury is also the name of the planet that will soon be
our evening star. And, Ethel, if I tell you this story now, you must
tell it to me sometime when we watch his beautiful namesake in the sky.
Will you try to remember it?"
"Oh, yes, indeed, I'll remember. I love the stories about the stars. It
makes them seem so real. I know Venus and Jupiter, and Mars with his red
eye, and now I am going to have another friend among them. Oh, I am glad
I asked about that quicksilver," and Ethel settled down on a footstool
at her mother's feet.
This is the story Mrs. Brown told Ethel:
"In the days when the earth was young, a little baby lay alone in its
cradle in a beautiful cave in a mountain side. This baby was Mercury.
His mother had left him because someone had called her away for a
moment, but for some reason she stayed an hour.
"As soon as she had gone, this wee baby turned over, lifted his head,
and, seeing the door of the cave ajar, put out his hand. Touching the
sides of the cradle, he sprang out like a boy ten years old. Slipping
through the doorway, Mercury ran quickly down to the river bank near his
home. A river tortoise was in his way. His tiny toes tripped over it and
he fell. Vexed to be stopped by such a slow, clumsy creature, Mercury
dashed it on a rock and killed it. Then he threw it into the river and
watched the fish feed on its flesh. It seemed but a minute before the
empty shell drifted to his feet. Mercury picked it up and felt sorry for
what he had done.
"'I will make this shell live forever,' he said. 'I do not mean to be
cruel to earth's creatures.'
"Quick as a thought he bored nine holes in each side, and taking the
lacings from his tiny sandals, he split them and strung them into the
holes in the shell.
"Drawing his little hand across the strings, there came the sweetest
sounds, and the first harp on earth was made. He was so pleased that he
hid it under his white dress until he came to some thick reeds by the
river, and there he laid it safely away.
"Running swiftly homeward, he came softly through the narrow opening,
back into his own room, and, creeping into his cradle, he cuddled down
and went to sleep."
"Why, mother, he was so little! Only a baby; how could he?"
"The old myth says he was only three days old when he did this, but
remember, this is like a fairy story, and Mercury was the son of the
great Jupiter. But let me tell the rest. When his mother came back,
she was frightened to think he had been alone an hour, but he was
sleeping so sweetly when she looked at him that she felt he had not
been harmed. The mother never dreamed when she saw the open sandals
that he had been away."
"But the harp, mother; didn't she ever find that?"
"No, you know the little rogue had hidden the harp in the reeds by the
river. Another day he ran away and got into worse trouble than he
expected, for he dared to steal some of Apollo's cattle. They were
beautiful snow-white creatures, feeding in the violet meadows of the
sky. As he saw them drifting slowly toward him, the mischief in him made
him drive these gentle creatures into the sea, and, being tired and
hungry, he tore the last one to pieces and fed on it.
"Though this mischief-maker walked backward to his home, trying to
deceive any who would hunt for him, Apollo found him out. When the
sun-god saw him lying there, a helpless baby in a cradle, Mercury almost
made him think that he had not done the wrong. But at last even
Mercury's mother believed him guilty, for the proofs brought were many,
and Apollo came to take him away. Then the little wind-god took from
under his cradle-clothes the harp which he had hidden there, and
breathed upon it. Apollo was charmed by the melody and could only say:
"'Give me that, and I will not ask for my stolen cattle.'
[Illustration: MERCURY. From a statue in Florence, Italy.]
"That was just what Mercury wished. He quickly handed him the tortoise
shell. In Apollo's hands it made still sweeter music, for everything
Apollo did was best.
"So nimble Mercury was free. When the child was a few months older,
Apollo chose him for his messenger. He gave him a cap with wings at
either side, and winged sandals. In his hands he always carried a winged
wand with two serpents crossed and recrossed upon it. You have surely
seen his picture, Ethel?"
"Oh, yes. Down at the art store there is a little statue of him. I can
remember, this story always."
THE VOICES OF NATURE
_Finnish_
Vanemuine, the god of song, dwelt on the Hill of Taara. But he grew
tired of living in Finland and of his beautiful hill, so he sent word
for all things to come to him to receive the language they were to speak
before he went away to his palace in the sky. As they gathered around
him, he opened his lips and sang so sweetly, so softly, that the murmur
of his harp strings seemed almost harsh as compared with the music of
his rich voice.
The wandering winds who listened afar off caught and remembered only the
loudest tones. The sacred stream that flows so softly around the Hill of
Taara chose for its language the rustling of the silken garments which
moved upon his shoulders as he played.
The listening trees of the forest heard the rushing of his flowing
mantle as he descended from his throne on the crest of the hill; and
ever since, this has been the language of the tree-tops. If one will sit
on the mossy bank of a little brook near by a full-leaved forest, he may
even now fancy that Vanemuine is come again to earth.
Some of the larger creatures took up the deeper tones of the heavy harp
strings, and their language is now full of these sounds. Others loved
the melody of the lighter strings, and this softer music is ever in
their voices.
In his great joy Vanemuine sang songs never before heard on the earth,
and the listening nightingale caught their meaning, never to forget.
When you hear the nightingale pour out its song in the dusk of evening
hours, you hear an echo of the song the nightingale heard upon the
Hill of Taara.
Vanemuine sang of love and of the beautiful springtime. The happy lark
heard and understood, and the sweetest tones of the song she sings over
and over with each returning morning. As she soars higher and higher
into the clear air, she sings her song, trying to tell the whole world
of the love and beauty of which she heard so long ago.
While everything else was being made so happy, the poor fishes were
having a sad time. They could not leave the water to go to the Hill of
Taara, but they stretched their heads out of the brooks and rivers to
their very eyes, yet kept their ears under. So they saw Vanemuine, the
song-god, move his lips, but heard nothing, and they did as he did and
made no sound. To this day the poor, dumb fishes move their lips, but
speak no language.
Only the men and women who stood close around the Hill of Taara
understood everything that was sung. That is why human voices more than
any others can thrill us and make us see the beautiful and true.
Vanemuine sang of the glory of heaven and of the beauty of earth. He
sang of the flowing waters and of the rustling leaves. He sang of the
joys and the sorrows that come to all people, to children and parents,
to the rich and to the poor. If we listen to the songs sung to-day, with
open ears and expectant hearts, we may hear all that Vanemuine sang so
long ago upon the Hill of Taara.
When Vanemuine's songs had been heard by all the world, he rose on the
wings of the winds and went far into cloudland to his golden palace in
the sky. There he still sings his wonderful songs for those who are
greater than mankind.
To this very day the people of Finland think they can sometimes hear
Vanemuine's voice when the forest trees sigh in the wind, or the water
in the river softly laps against its rocky shore. Perhaps--who
knows?--we may hear him, too, if we listen well!
A BAG OF WINDS
_Greek_
"Oh, Grace, do see that man with all those little balloons! Don't they
look like a bunch of big cherries?"
"Yes, they do, Carrie, but cherries are all of one color, and some of
his balloons are red and some are blue. Oh, here is one that has burst.
See, it is only a little rubber sack that was once full of air."
"That makes me think, Carrie, of a story I read the other day about a
bag of winds. It was about the King of the Winds and his kindness. It
was this way:
"Once a man named Ulysses was sailing over a great sea, and he came to
an island. He and his sailors were so tired and hungry that they
stopped for food and rest. The King of the Winds--his name was
Aeolus--was very kind to them, and they feasted for fifteen days; then
they had to go forward on their journey again. King Aeolus thought so
much of Ulysses that he told him that he would see that he had good
sailing weather all the way home, if Ulysses would promise to take
charge of what he would give him.
[Illustration: ULYSSES. Making an offering of wine.]
"King Aeolus went alone to the great cave in the mountains where he kept
the four strong winds and some of the weaker ones. He pounded on the
door with his heavy key to let them know he was there, and that they
must wait his call. Then he unlocked the door and let out the strong
East Wind, but caught the others in a great bag made of a whole ox-hide.
This he tied with a stout cord, and the East Wind took it on his
shoulders and carried it to the boat that was about to sail.
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