VOLUME THREE

Tales from Greece and Rome

P. F. Collier & Son Corporation New York

Copyright, 1912 By P. F. Collier & Son

Copyright, 1918 By P. F. Collier & Son

Acknowledgments of permission given by authors and publishers for the use of copyright material appear in Volume 10

Manufactured in U. S. A.

TC

CONTENTS

PAGE

PREFACE 9

TABLE OF LATIN AND GREEK GODS 12

OLD GREEK TALES

How Theseus Slays the Minotaur _Nathaniel Hawthorne_ 15 Pegasus, the Winged Horse _Nathaniel Hawthorne_ 51 The Heroes Sail Away in Search of the Golden Fleece _Charles Kingsley_ 80 How Jason Lost His Sandal _Charles Kingsley_ 88 How They Built the Ship _Argo_ _Charles Kingsley_ 98 How the Argonauts Sailed to Colchis _Charles Kingsley_ 102 Hunting the Calydonian Boar _Elsie F. Buckley_ 128 The Winning of Atalanta _Elsie F. Buckley_ 148 Turning Everything into Gold _Nathaniel Hawthorne_ 172 The Pomegranate Seeds _Nathaniel Hawthorne_ 193

TALES OF THE TROJAN WAR—From Homer

The Trojan War _Thomas Bulfinch_ 237 The Quarrel of the Chiefs _Alfred J. Church_ 240 The Fight Between Paris and Menelaus _Alfred J. Church_ 251 The Duel Between Hector and Ajax _Alfred J. Church_ 257 The Deeds and Death of Patroclus _Alfred J. Church_ 265 The Death of Hector _Alfred J. Church_ 272 The Ransoming of Hector _Alfred J. Church_ 283 The Wooden Horse _Grace Bigelow Patten_ 295

THE HOMEWARD VOYAGE OF THE GREEK HERO, ULYSSES—From Homer

The Lotus-Eaters _Sir George W. Cox_ 301 Ulysses and the Cyclops _Sir George W. Cox_ 305 Circe’s Palace _Nathaniel Hawthorne_ 315 Ulysses and the Sirens _Sir George W. Cox_ 353 Nausicaa Rescues Ulysses _Alfred J. Church_ 357 Ulysses and the Swineherd _Alfred J. Church_ 368 The Return of Telemachus _Alfred J. Church_ 373 Ulysses in His Home _Alfred J. Church_ 377 The Trial of the Bow _Alfred J. Church_ 384 The Vengeance of Ulysses _Alfred J. Church_ 389

THE WANDERINGS OF ÆNEAS—From Virgil

The Remnant of the Defeated Army _Thomas Bulfinch and Seeks a New Home Alfred J. Church_ 397 The Adventure with the Harpies _H. L. Havell_ 403 Pursued by the Cyclops _H. L. Havell_ 406 Venus Sends Æneas to Queen Dido _Alfred J. Church_ 412 Queen Dido Welcomes Æneas _Alfred J. Church_ 418 The Love and Death of Queen Dido _Alfred J. Church_ 425 The Race of the Four Galleys _H. L. Havell_ 437 The Foot Race _H. L. Havell_ 443 The Boxing Match _H. L. Havell_ 445 The Contest of the Archers _H. L. Havell_ 448 The Sibyl Speaks to Æneas _Alfred J. Church_ 450 The Dwellings of the Dead _Alfred J. Church_ 455 The Oracle Foretells the Coming of Æneas _H. L. Havell_ 467 Æneas and His Companions Eat Their Tables _H. L. Havell_ 469 The Fight Between Æneas and Turnus _H. L. Havell_ 473 The Death of Turnus _H. L. Havell_ 480

STORIES FROM ROMAN HISTORY—From Livy

The Story of Romulus and of Numa _Alfred J. Church_ 489 The Story of Alba _Alfred J. Church_ 500

ILLUSTRATIONS

THE WINE WAS MINGLED WITH THE MOST POTENT ENCHANTMENTS

Circe’s Palace

_Frontispiece illustration in color from the painting by Maxfield Parrish_

THE QUEST OF THE GOLDEN FLEECE

The Heroes Sail Away in Search of the Golden Fleece

_From the painting by Maxfield Parrish_

ON THE BANK OF ANAUROS SAT A WOMAN, ALL WRINKLED, GRAY, AND OLD

How Jason Lost His Sandal

_From the painting by T. H. Robinson_

JASON AND THE TALKING OAK

How They Built the Ship Argo

_From the painting by Maxfield Parrish_

CHIRON, THE CENTAUR

How the Argonauts Sailed to Colchis

_From the painting by Maxfield Parrish_

PARIS CARRIED HER TO TROY

The Trojan War

_From the painting by R. von Deutsch_

THEN AUTOMEDON YOKED THE HORSES TO THE CHARIOT

The Deeds and Death of Patroclus

_From the painting by H. Regnault_

PREFACE

Homer, that king of story-tellers, traveller and well-loved school teacher, is supposed to have lived in Greece about three thousand years ago.

Trained story-tellers or bards, with extraordinary memories, were not rare in that simple age. Many argue that writing for literary purposes was not used by the Greeks at that time, and that Homer recited his tales to groups of friends, to his school children, and at the great yearly festivals. It is amazing what memories people had in the days when there were no books, when there were not a thousand and one things to distract them; yet we have proof that such memories are possible in our time. About fifty years ago, poor, uneducated Blind Jamie was a well-known character in the town of Stirling, in Scotland. He could recite the Bible from beginning to end, without mistake, and could even repeat any verse from any part of the Bible.

From the mass of old folk tales that he gathered on his travels, Homer, the inspired minstrel, wove one continuous story, the greatest epic poems of all time, The Iliad and The Odyssey. Later, one of the Greek chroniclers tells us, Pisistratus edited them with taste and care, “in the order in which we have them.”

Although the world we visit in Homer’s pages is a Greek world, it is singularly like our own in many respects. His men and women face the same problems of war and peace, of triumph and defeat, of pleasure and pain, as we do. His soldiers and sailors in the spirit-stirring war might be men of to-day. And best of all, he makes us see, feel, hope, fear, laugh and cry through these marvellous pages, over which, for hundreds of years, boys and girls of all countries have lingered, entranced.

The Iliad is the account of the Trojan War. The Odyssey tells of the Grecian hero, Ulysses, and of his years of wandering and adventure, after the fall of Troy, before he finally reaches his home and wife and son, in Ithaca.

Later, Virgil, greatest of Roman poets, in his desire to do for the Latin nation what Homer did for the Greeks, wrote the Æneid. In this he describes the adventures of the Trojan hero, Æneas. As you will see, his book is modelled after Homer’s, even in small details.

Homer and Sir Thomas Malory may be said to have each performed for his native country a somewhat similar task, each, of course, in his own way. Each retold the current folk tales in such a superior manner that his became the accepted version, to the practical exclusion of all others, and it is thus in a very real sense that we are indebted to Homer for Ulysses and to Malory for King Arthur.

The old Greek tales at the beginning of the book are from Ovid (43 B. C.), Apollodorus (140 B. C.) and Pindar (522 B. C.), and they have been retold in delightful fashion by Nathaniel Hawthorne, Charles Kingsley and Miss Buckley.

As the stories from Homer and Virgil, in the versions here given, can only be looked upon as introductory to more extended reading, and are, consequently, something with which scholarship can have little if any quarrel, it has seemed desirable to make them as simple and clear as possible. For this reason the Latin names for the gods and goddesses of the Greek mythology have been used throughout. These names have been handed down to us in the works of Shakespeare, Milton, Keats, and many others, and usage has made them familiar. Jupiter, Juno, Mars, Diana and Neptune, are old friends whose attributes are recognized at once, while to many the Grecian Zeus, Hera, Ares, Artemis and Poseidon are strangers whose names might have to be looked up in the classical dictionary. With the exception of a word here and there, there has been no editing of the stories, but occasional passages that delayed the movement of a story have been omitted.

WILLIAM PATTEN.

THE PRINCIPAL GODS AND GODDESSES MENTIONED IN THESE PAGES WITH THEIR LATIN AND GREEK NAMES

_Latin_ _Greek_ CYBELE The Great Mother of the Gods, Mother RHEA of Jupiter and Juno.

SATURN Father of Jupiter (the greatest Olympian CRONUS God), of Pluto, and of Neptune. The world was divided between the three brothers; Pluto was given the lower world, Neptune the sea, and Jupiter the heavens and upper regions of the air.

PLUTO Son of Saturn and Cybele, king of the AÏDONEUS lower world. Metals and all the OR HADES productions of the earth are his gifts.

PROSERPINA Daughter of Jupiter and Ceres, wife of PERSEPHONE Pluto and queen of the lower world.

THE TWELVE OLYMPIAN GODS

JUPITER The greatest of all, king of heaven. ZEUS

JUNO Wife of Jupiter and queen of heaven, HERA goddess of love, marriage, and births.

MARS Son of Jupiter and Juno, god of war. ARES

VULCAN Son of Jupiter and Juno, god of fire. HEPHAESTUS

MERCURY Son of Jupiter and Maia (daughter of HERMES Atlas), the messenger of the gods.

NEPTUNE Son of Saturn and Cybele, god of the sea. POSEIDON

MINERVA Daughter of Jupiter and Metis, protectress ATHENE of the state, and of all useful arts. A friend of the Greeks in the Trojan War.

DIANA Daughter of Jupiter and Latona, sister ARTEMIS of Apollo, generally represented as a huntress.

APOLLO Twin brother of Diana, god of prophecy, APOLLO of song and music; the god who gives help and turns away evil.

VESTA Daughter of Saturn and Rhea, goddess of HESTIA the hearth.

CERES Daughter of Saturn and Rhea, goddess DEMETER of the earth.

VENUS Daughter of Jupiter and Diöne, though APHRODITE some say she sprang from the foam of the sea; the goddess of love.

OLD GREEK TALES

HOW THESEUS SLAYS THE MINOTAUR

By Nathaniel Hawthorne

In the old city of Trœzene, at the foot of a lofty mountain, there lived, a very long time ago, a little boy named Theseus. His grandfather, King Pittheus, was the sovereign of that country, and was reckoned a very wise man; so that Theseus, being brought up in the royal palace, and being naturally a bright lad, could hardly fail of profiting by the old king’s instructions. His mother’s name was Æthra. As for his father, the boy had never seen him. But, from his earliest remembrance, Æthra used to go with little Theseus into a wood, and sit down upon a moss-grown rock, which was deeply sunken into the earth. Here she often talked with her son about his father, and said that he was called Ægeus, and that he was a great king, and ruled over Attica, and dwelt at Athens, which was as famous a city as any in the world. Theseus was very fond of hearing about King Ægeus, and often asked his good mother Æthra why he did not come and live with them at Trœzene.

“Ah, my dear son,” answered Æthra, with a sigh, “a monarch has his people to take care of. The men and women over whom he rules are in the place of children to him; and he can seldom spare time to love his own children as other parents do. Your father will never be able to leave his kingdom for the sake of seeing his little boy.”

“Well, but, dear mother,” asked the boy, “why cannot I go to this famous city of Athens, and tell King Ægeus that I am his son?”

“That may happen by-and-by,” said Æthra. “Be patient, and we shall see. You are not yet big and strong enough to set out on such an errand.”

“And how soon shall I be strong enough?” Theseus persisted in inquiring.

“You are but a tiny boy as yet,” replied his mother. “See if you can lift this rock on which we are sitting.”

The little fellow had a great opinion of his own strength. So, grasping the rough protuberances of the rock, he tugged and toiled amain, and got himself quite out of breath, without being able to stir the heavy stone. It seemed to be rooted into the ground. No wonder he could not move it; for it would have taken all the force of a very strong man to lift it out of its earthy bed.

His mother stood looking on, with a sad kind of a smile on her lips and in her eyes, to see the zealous and yet puny efforts of her little boy. She could not help being sorrowful at finding him already so impatient to begin his adventures in the world.

“You see how it is, my dear Theseus,” said she, “you must possess far more strength than now before I can trust you to go to Athens, and tell King Ægeus that you are his son. But when you can lift this rock, and show me what is hidden beneath it, I promise you my permission to depart.”

Often and often, after this, did Theseus ask his mother, whether it was yet time for him to go to Athens; and still his mother pointed to the rock, and told him that, for years to come, he could not be strong enough to move it. And again and again the rosy-cheeked and curly-headed boy would tug and strain at the huge mass of stone, striving, child as he was, to do what a giant could hardly have done without taking both of his great hands to the task. Meanwhile the rock seemed to be sinking farther and farther into the ground. The moss grew over it thicker and thicker, until at last it looked almost like a soft green seat, with only a few gray knobs of granite peeping out. The overhanging trees, also, shed their brown leaves upon it, as often as the autumn came; and at its base grew ferns and wild flowers, some of which crept quite over its surface. To all appearance, the rock was as firmly fastened as any other portion of the earth’s substance.

But, difficult as the matter looked, Theseus was now growing up to be such a vigorous youth, that, in his own opinion, the time would quickly come when he might hope to get the upper hand of this ponderous lump of stone.

“Mother, I do believe it has started!” cried he, after one of his attempts. “The earth around it is certainly a little cracked!”

“No, no, child!” his mother hastily answered. “It is not possible you can have moved it, such a boy as you still are.”

Nor would she be convinced, although Theseus showed her the place where he fancied that the stem of a flower had been partly uprooted by the movement of the rock. But Æthra sighed and looked disquieted; for, no doubt, she began to be conscious that her son was no longer a child, and that, in a little while hence, she must send him forth among the perils and troubles of the world.

It was not more than a year afterwards when they were again sitting on the moss-covered stone. Æthra had once more told him the oft-repeated story of his father, and how gladly he would receive Theseus at his stately palace, and how he would present him to his courtiers and the people, and tell them that here was the heir of his dominions. The eyes of Theseus glowed with enthusiasm, and he would hardly sit still to hear his mother speak.

“Dear mother Æthra,” he exclaimed, “I never felt half so strong as now! I am no longer a child, nor a boy, nor a mere youth! I feel myself a man! It is now time to make one earnest trial to remove the stone.”

“Ah, my dearest Theseus,” replied his mother, “not yet! not yet!”

“Yes, mother,” said he, resolutely, “the time has come!”

Then Theseus bent himself in good earnest to the task, and strained every sinew, with manly strength and resolution. He put his whole brave heart into the effort. He wrestled with the big and sluggish stone, as if it had been a living enemy. He heaved, he lifted, he resolved now to succeed, or else to perish there, and let the rock be his monument for ever! Æthra stood gazing at him, and clasped her hands, partly with a mother’s pride, and partly with a mother’s sorrow. The great rock stirred! Yes, it was raised slowly from the bedded moss and earth, uprooting the shrubs and flowers along with it, and was turned upon its side. Theseus had conquered!

While taking breath, he looked joyfully at his mother, and she smiled upon him through her tears.

“Yes, Theseus,” she said, “the time has come, and you must stay no longer at my side! See what King Ægeus, your royal father, left for you, beneath the stone, when he lifted it in his mighty arms, and laid it on the spot whence you have now removed it.”

Theseus looked, and saw that the rock had been placed over another slab of stone, containing a cavity within it; so that it somewhat resembled a roughly-made chest or coffer, of which the upper mass had served as the