A Book of Myths
strong young palm, and in her blindness one of the three placed the
eye within it.
Then the Grey Women gave a piteous cry, fierce and angry as the cry of
old grey wolves that have been robbed of their prey, and gnashed upon
him with their toothless jaws.
And Perseus said: "Wicked ye are and cruel at heart, and blind shall
ye remain forever unless ye tell me where I may find the Gorgons. But
tell me that, and I give back the eye."
Then they whimpered and begged of him, and when they found that all
their beseeching was in vain, at length they told him.
"Go south," they said, "so far south that at length thou comest to the
uttermost limits of the sea, to the place where the day and night
meet. There is the Garden of the Hesperides, and of them must thou
ask the way." And "Give us back our eye!" they wailed again most
piteously, and Perseus gave back the eye into a greedy trembling old
hand, and flew south like a swallow that is glad to leave the gloomy
frozen lands behind.
To the garden of the Hesperides he came at last, and amongst the
myrtles and roses and sunny fountains he came on the nymphs who there
guard the golden fruit, and begged them to tell him whither he must
wing his way in order to find the Gorgons. But the nymphs could not
tell.
"We must ask Atlas," they said, "the giant who sits high up on the
mountain and with his strong shoulders keeps the heavens and earth
apart."
And with the nymphs Perseus went up the mountain and asked the patient
giant to guide him to the place of his quest.
"Far away I can see them," said Atlas, "on an island in the great
ocean. But unless thou wert to wear the helmet of Pluto himself, thy
going must be in vain."
"What is this helmet?" asked Perseus, "and how can I gain it?"
"Didst thou wear the helmet of the ruler of Dark Places, thou wouldst
be as invisible as a shadow in the blackness of night," answered
Atlas; "but no mortal can obtain it, for only the Immortals can brave
the terrors of the Shadowy Land and yet return; yet if thou wilt
promise me one thing, the helmet shall be thine."
"What wouldst thou?" asked Perseus.
And Atlas said, "For many a long year have I borne this earth, and I
grow aweary of my burden. When thou hast slain Medusa, let me gaze
upon her face, that I may be turned into stone and suffer no more
forever."
And Perseus promised, and at the bidding of Atlas one of the nymphs
sped down to the land of the Shades, and for seven days Perseus and
her sisters awaited her return. Her face was as the face of a white
lily and her eyes were dark with sadness when she came, but with her
she bore the helmet of Pluto, and when she and her sisters had kissed
Perseus and bidden him a sorrowful farewell, he put on the helmet and
vanished away.
Soon the gentle light of day had gone, and he found himself in a place
where clammy fog blotted out all things, and where the sea was black
as the water of that stream that runs through the Cocytus valley. And
in that silent land where there is "neither night nor day, nor cloud
nor breeze nor storm," he found the cave of horrors in which the
Gorgons dwelt.
Two of them, like monstrous swine, lay asleep,
"But a third woman paced about the hall,
And ever turned her head from wall to wall,
And moaned aloud and shrieked in her despair,
Because the golden tresses of her hair
Were moved by writhing snakes from side to side,
That in their writhing oftentimes would glide
On to her breast or shuddering shoulders white;
Or, falling down, the hideous things would light
Upon her feet, and, crawling thence, would twine
Their slimy folds upon her ankles fine."
William Morris.
In the shield of Pallas Athene the picture was mirrored, and as
Perseus gazed on it his soul grew heavy for the beauty and the horror
of Medusa. And "Oh that it had been her foul sisters that I must
slay!" he thought at first, but then--"To slay her will be kind
indeed," he said. "Her beauty has become corruption, and all the joy
of life for her has passed into the agony of remembrance, the torture
of unending remorse."
And when he saw her brazen claws that still were greedy and lustful to
strike and to slay, his face grew stern, and he paused no longer, but
with his sword he smote her neck with all his might and main. And to
the rocky floor the body of Medusa fell with brazen clang, but her
head he wrapped in the goatskin, while he turned his eyes away. Aloft
then he sprang, and flew swifter than an arrow from the bow of Diana.
With hideous outcry the two other Gorgons found the body of Medusa,
and, like foul vultures that hunt a little song-bird, they flew in
pursuit of Perseus. For many a league they kept up the chase, and
their howling was grim to hear. Across the seas they flew, and over
the yellow sand of the Libyan desert, and as Perseus flew before them,
some blood-drops fell from the severed head of Medusa, and from them
bred the vipers that are found in the desert to this day. But bravely
did the winged shoes of Hermes bear Perseus on, and by nightfall the
Gorgon sisters had passed from sight, and Perseus found himself once
more in the garden of the Hesperides. Ere he sought the nymphs, he
knelt by the sea to cleanse from his hands Medusa's blood, and still
does the seaweed that we find on sea-beaches after a storm bear the
crimson stains.
And when Perseus had received glad welcome from the fair dwellers in
the garden of the Hesperides, he sought Atlas, that to him he might
fulfil his promise; and eagerly Atlas beheld him, for he was aweary of
his long toil.
So Perseus uncovered the face of Medusa and held it up for the Titan
to gaze upon.
And when Atlas looked upon her whose beauty had once been pure and
living as that of a flower in spring, and saw only anguish and
cruelty, foul wickedness, and hideous despair, his heart grew like
stone within him. To stone, too, turned his great, patient face, and
into stone grew his vast limbs and strong, crouching back. So did
Atlas the Titan become Atlas the Mountain, and still his head,
white-crowned with snow, and his great shoulder far up in misty
clouds, would seem to hold apart the earth and the sky.
Then Perseus again took flight, and in his flight he passed over many
lands and suffered weariness and want, and sometimes felt his faith
growing low. Yet ever he sped on, hoping ever, enduring ever. In Egypt
he had rest and was fed and honoured by the people of the land, who
were fain to keep him to be one of their gods. And in a place called
Chemmis they built a statue of him when he had gone, and for many
hundreds of years it stood there. And the Egyptians said that ever and
again Perseus returned, and that when he came the Nile rose high and
the season was fruitful because he had blessed their land.
Far down below him as he flew one day he saw something white on a
purple rock in the sea. It seemed too large to be a snowy-plumaged
bird, and he darted swiftly downward that he might see more clearly.
The spray lashed against the steep rocks of the desolate island, and
showered itself upon a figure that at first he took to be a statue of
white marble. The figure was but that of a girl, slight and very
youthful, yet more fair even than any of the nymphs of the Hesperides.
Invisible in his Helmet of Darkness, Perseus drew near, and saw that
the fragile white figure was shaken by shivering sobs. The waves,
every few moments, lapped up on her little cold white feet, and he saw
that heavy chains held her imprisoned to that chilly rock in the sea.
A great anger stirred the heart of Perseus, and swiftly he took the
helmet from his head and stood beside her. The maid gave a cry of
terror, but there was no evil thing in the face of Perseus. Naught but
strength and kindness and purity shone out of his steady eyes.
Thus when, very gently, he asked her what was the meaning of her cruel
imprisonment, she told him the piteous story, as a little child tells
the story of its grief to the mother who comforts it. Her mother was
queen of Ethiopia, she said, and very, very beautiful. But when the
queen had boasted that no nymph who played amongst the snow-crested
billows of the sea was as fair as she, a terrible punishment was sent
to her. All along the coast of her father's kingdom a loathsome
sea-monster came to hold its sway, and hideous were its ravages. Men
and women, children and animals, all were equally desirable food for
its insatiate maw, and the whole land of Ethiopia lay in mourning
because of it. At last her father, the king, had consulted an oracle
that he might find help to rid the land of the monster. And the oracle
had told him that only when his fair daughter, Andromeda, had been
sacrificed to the creature that scourged the sea-coast would the
country go free. Thus had she been brought there by her parents that
one life might be given for many, and that her mother's broken heart
might expiate her sin of vanity. Even as Andromeda spoke, the sea was
broken by the track of a creature that cleft the water as does the
forerunning gale of a mighty storm. And Andromeda gave a piteous cry.
"Lo! he comes!" she cried. "Save me! ah, save me! I am so young to
die."
Then Perseus darted high above her and for an instant hung poised like
a hawk that is about to strike. Then, like the hawk that cannot miss
its prey, swiftly did he swoop down and smote with his sword the
devouring monster of the ocean. Not once, but again and again he
smote, until all the water round the rock was churned into slime and
blood-stained froth, and until his loathsome combatant floated on its
back, mere carrion for the scavengers of the sea.
Then Perseus hewed off the chains that held Andromeda, and in his arms
he held her tenderly as he flew with her to her father's land.
Who so grateful then as the king and queen of Ethiopia? and who so
happy as Andromeda? for Perseus, her deliverer, dearest and greatest
hero to her in all the world, not only had given her her freedom, but
had given her his heart.
Willingly and joyfully her father agreed to give her to Perseus for
his wife. No marriage feast so splendid had ever been held in Ethiopia
in the memory of man, but as it went on, an angry man with a band of
sullen-faced followers strode into the banqueting-hall. It was
Phineus, he who had been betrothed to Andromeda, yet who had not dared
to strike a blow for her rescue. Straight at Perseus they rushed, and
fierce was the fight that then began. But of a sudden, from the
goatskin where it lay hid, Perseus drew forth the head of Medusa, and
Phineus and his warriors were turned into stone.
For seven days the marriage feast lasted, but on the eighth night
Pallas Athene came to Perseus in a dream.
"Nobly and well hast thou played the hero, O son of Zeus!" she said;
"but now that thy toil is near an end and thy sorrows have ended in
joy, I come to claim the shoes of Hermes, the helmet of Pluto, the
sword, and the shield that is mine own. Yet the head of the Gorgon
must thou yet guard awhile, for I would have it laid in my temple at
Seriphos that I may wear it on my shield for evermore."
As she ceased to speak, Perseus awoke, and lo, the shield and helmet
and the sword and winged shoes were gone, so that he knew that his
dream was no false vision.
Then did Perseus and Andromeda, in a red-prowed galley made by cunning
craftsmen from Phoenicia, sail away westward, until at length they
came to the blue water of the AEgean Sea, and saw rising out of the
waves before them the rocks of Seriphos. And when the rowers rested on
their long oars, and the red-prowed ship ground on the pebbles of the
beach, Perseus and his bride sought Danae, the fair mother of Perseus.