  “Unto this thy son it shall be given, With his broad heart to win his way to heaven; Twelve labors shall he work; and all accurst And brutal things o’erthrow, brute men the worst; And in Trachinia shall the funeral pyre Purge his mortalities away with fire; And he shall mount amid the stars, and be Acknowledg’d kin to those who envied thee, And sent these den-born shapes to crush his destiny.” Theocritus (Hunt’s tr.). The ancients were not content to worship the gods only, but also offered up sacrifices to a few mortals, who, by their heroic deeds and virtuous lives, had won both admiration and respect. Foremost among these heroes—generally designated by the title of demigods—is Hercules (Heracles, Alcides), son of Jupiter and Alcmene, a mortal princess. Juno persecutes Hercules. As soon as the tidings of Hercules’ birth reached Olympus, Juno began to plot how to destroy her rival’s child. Two colossal serpents with poisonous fangs were therefore dispatched by her orders to attack the babe in its cradle. The monsters crept along noiselessly, entered the palace unseen, twined themselves around the cradle, and were about to crush the child to death in their folds, when, to the utter astonishment of the helpless attendants, little Hercules caught them fast by the neck in each tiny hand and strangled them, thus giving the first proof of the marvelous strength which was to make him famous. HERCULES AN INFANT. (Louvre, Paris.) Climb’d round the cradle of the sleeping God; Waked by the shrilling hiss, and rustling sound, And shrieks of fair attendants trembling round, Their gasping throats with clenching hands he holds; And Death untwists their convoluted folds.” Darwin. When Juno perceived how easily Hercules had escaped from the danger which threatened him, she deemed it useless to make another attempt to take his life, but decided to vex his proud spirit by inflicting many petty annoyances, and to prevent his enjoying any lasting peace or happiness. To achieve this purpose, she first extorted from Jupiter a decree that condemned Hercules to serve his cousin Eurystheus—a mean and cowardly prince who ruled over the kingdom of Argos—for a certain number of years. Hercules’ education was carefully attended to by Chiron, a learned Centaur, who taught him how to use all the different weapons, and trained him in all kinds of athletic sports. The years passed by happily and swiftly, until at last the time came when Hercules’ education was completed, and the whole world lay before him, full of pleasant possibilities, and rich with many attractions. Hercules’ choice. The youthful hero, dismissed by his instructor, now set out to seek his fortunes. He had not gone very far, however, before he met two beautiful women, who immediately entered into conversation with him, and drew from him a confession that he was in search of adventures. The women, Arete (Virtue) and Kakia (Vice), each offered to be his guide, but bade him choose which he preferred to follow. Kakia, to induce him to follow her guidance, promised riches, ease, consideration, and love; while Arete, a modest maiden, warned him that in her wake he would be obliged to wage incessant war against evil, to endure hardships without number, and spend his days in toil and poverty. “Young Hercules with firm disdain Braved the soft smiles of Pleasure’s harlot train; To valiant toils his forceful limbs assign’d, And gave to Virtue all his mighty mind.” Darwin. Courageously he then trod along the rough and thorny path she pointed out, and patiently performed the various tasks she assigned him, delivering the oppressed, defending the weak, and redressing all wrongs. Hercules’ madness. In reward for these good actions he received the hand of Megara, daughter of Creon, King of Thebes, in marriage, and by her had three children, whom he tenderly loved. But Juno was not at all satisfied to see him leading such a peaceful and prosperous life, and to interrupt its even course drove the hero mad. In a fit of delirium he threw his offspring into the fire, and, we are told, slew his dearly beloved wife. Then only he recovered his senses, and suffered agonies of sorrow and remorse for the terrible crimes he had unwittingly committed. In his grief he withdrew to the mountain solitudes, where he would probably have lingered all the remainder of his life, had not Mercury come to get him, and announced that he was to serve Eurystheus, King of Argos, for a twelvemonth. Hercules in servitude. The messenger god then offered to lead him to his appointed taskmaster. But when Hercules learned he was doomed to be a slave, he fell into such a passion, that he nearly lost his reason again; and instead of killing noxious beasts, and winning the people’s blessings by his deeds of kindness, he wandered about stupidly and aimlessly, until he finally perceived how vain was his attempt to struggle against Nemean lion. Eager to begin the appointed tasks, Hercules set out first to find and destroy a monstrous lion, whose den was in the Nemean Forest. Far and wide, throughout the whole neighborhood, this monster committed his depredations, carrying off cattle and sheep, men, women, and children, to devour at his ease. All warned Hercules of the danger and difficulty of the undertaking, described the failure of countless previous attempts to slay the monster, and prophesied that he would never return alive. The hero would not be dissuaded, but entered the forest, tracked the lion to his den, grasped him by the throat, and strangled him as he had strangled the snakes in his infancy. He then skinned the monster, whose shaggy pelt became his favorite covering. “So from Nemea’s den Alcides strode, The lion’s yellow spoil around his shoulders flow’d.” Flaccus (Elton’s tr.). Hydra of Lerna. On his return to Argos to report the successful termination of his first task, Hercules was told to repair to the marshes of Lerna, where lurked a seven-headed serpent, the Hydra, and put an end to its career of rapacity, for this snake devoured man and beast. Armed with a great sword, Hercules succeeded in cutting off one of the seven heads; but he had no sooner done so, than, to his dismay, he saw seven other heads suddenly spring from the bleeding stump. To prevent a repetition of this unpleasant miracle, Hercules bade his friend Iolaus, who had accompanied him thither to view his prowess, take a lighted brand and sear the wounds as soon as inflicted. Thanks to this wise plan, the monster was finally slain, although a friendly crab sent by Juno to defend Hydra continually pinched Hercules’ feet. The hero, angry at this intervention, crushed the crab, which, however, received its Stag of Cerynea. The third task appointed by Eurystheus was the capture of the golden-horned, brazen-footed stag of Cerynea, whose fleetness was such that he seemed scarcely to touch the ground. Hercules was obliged to pursue this animal for many a weary mile before he could overtake him; and he only managed the capture by driving him into a deep snowdrift, in a distant northern land, from which he extricated him, and carried him home in triumph. Erymanthian boar. The same success crowned his fourth labor, the capture of the wild boar of Erymanthus in Arcadia. Attacked by the Centaurs during the performance of this labor, Hercules turned his deadly arrows upon them, and accidentally wounded his beloved tutor Chiron, who was coming to settle the dispute. Vainly the hero applied every healing herb. The wound was mortal, and Chiron died; but in reward for his good offices the gods transferred him to the sky, where he is known as the constellation Sagittarius. Augean stables. Hercules was next sent to Augeas, King of Elis, who had immense droves of cattle. The stables usually occupied by these animals were in an incredibly filthy state, as they had not been cleaned in years; and now Hercules was given the task to remove the accumulated filth, and make a complete purification of the premises. Close by these stables rushed a torrent, or rather a river, the Alpheus. Hercules, with one glance, saw the use he could make of this rushing stream, which he dammed and turned aside from its course, so that the waters passed directly through the stables, carrying away all impurities, and finally washing them perfectly clean. HERCULES AND CENTAUR.—Bologna. (Florence.) Could clean the Augean stables.” Wordsworth. When Hercules saw that the work of purification was thoroughly accomplished, he guided the stream back to its original bed, and returned home to announce that the fifth labor was accomplished. The fabulous filth of the Augean stables, and the radical methods employed for their cleansing, have given rise to proverbial expressions still in current use. Cretan bull. Hercules next journeyed off to Crete to accomplish his sixth task, the capture of a mad bull given by Neptune to Minos, king of the island. The god had sent the animal with directions that he should be offered up in sacrifice; but Minos, charmed with his unusual size and beauty, resolved to keep him, and substituted a bull from his own herds for the religious ceremony. Angry at seeing his express command so wantonly disobeyed, Neptune maddened the bull, which rushed wildly all over the island, causing great damage. This was the animal that Hercules, with his usual strength and skill, caught and bound fast, thus finishing the sixth task. Diomedes’ steeds. He then hastened on to Thrace, where Diomedes, the king, kept some fine coursers, which were fed on human flesh. In order to obtain a sufficient supply of fresh meat for his horses, Diomedes had decreed that all strangers who ventured into his kingdom should be seized, and, when sufficiently fat, executed, and served up in his horses’ mangers. To punish Diomedes for this long-continued barbarity, Hercules fed him to his own horses, which were then led off to Eurystheus, as a token that the seventh labor was done. Hippolyte’s girdle. Now, at the court of Eurystheus was his beautiful daughter, Admete, a vain princess, who delighted in dress and jewels, and who was never happier than when she obtained some new ornament or article of apparel. One day Admete heard a traveler describe a girdle worn by Hippolyte, She imparted this wish to Eurystheus, who, delighted to gratify her as long as he could do so without taking any personal risk or trouble, sent Hercules in quest of the coveted jewel. The journey to the land of the Amazons—a fierce, warlike nation of women—was long and dangerous; but Hercules traveled on undaunted, nor paused, except when his services were needed in furthering some good work for mortals, until he reached their land, presented himself before their queen, and boldly explained the cause of his presence. Hippolyte listened to his explanation and request with queenly condescension, promised to consider the matter, and in the mean while bade him feast and rest in her palace. Hercules would have succeeded in this undertaking without any trouble, had not Juno suddenly remembered his existence, and resolved to continue her never entirely forgotten persecutions. In the guise of an Amazon, she mingled among the women, and artfully spread the report that Hercules had really come to kidnap their queen, and that the pretended quest of the girdle was a mere excuse, and only intended to distract their attention from his real purpose. The Amazons yielded implicit belief to these rumors, flew to arms, and surrounded their queen. “The Amazons array their ranks, In painted arms of radiant sheen Around Hippolyte the queen.” Virgil (Conington’s tr.). The assembled force then attacked Hercules, who met their onslaught single-handed, defeated them, and finally bore away the prize he had risked so much to obtain. It was on his homeward journey from this expedition that he saved Hesione, Laomedon’s daughter, from the jaws of the sea monster who was about to devour her, as he had devoured many a fair Trojan maid before her (p. MOUNTED AMAZON GOING TO THE CHASE.—Thorwaldsen. (Copenhagen.) Stymphalian birds. “His arrows slew The monsters hov’ring fell Stymphalus round.” Catullus. Cattle of Geryones. Hercules was next told to capture the divine cattle of Geryones, a giant of Erythea. On his way home with this marvelous herd, Hercules paused on Mount Aventine, where, during the night, the loathsome giant Cacus stole some of his cows. To punish him for this theft, Hercules forced his way into his cave, attacked him, and, after a memorable encounter, slew him. The animals were soon after delivered into the hands of Eurystheus, who then sent Hercules in search of the Golden Apples of the Hesperides. Hesperian apples. This commission sadly perplexed Hercules, for he did not know in what portion of the world he would find these apples, which had been given to Juno as a wedding present, and which she had intrusted to the care of the Hesperides, daughters of Hesperus, god of the West. After numerous journeys and many inquiries, Hercules discovered that these maidens had carried these apples off to Africa, hung them on a tree in their garden, and placed the dragon Ladon at its foot to guard their treasures night and day. Unfortunately, no one could tell Hercules in what part of Africa the garden of the Hesperides might be situated: so he set out at a venture, determined to travel about until he gained some information. On his way he met with many adventures, and saw many strange sights. For instance, he first met the nymphs of the Eridanus River, and, questioning them about the golden apples, was told to consult old Nereus, god of the sea, who would probably be able to give him some information on the subject. In obedience to this advice, Hercules went to the Caucasian Mountains, where, on the brink of a mighty precipice, he found Prometheus, still bound with adamantine chains, and still a prey to the ravenous vulture (p. Pygmies. Hercules wended his way to Africa, where Atlas dwelt, and on his way passed through the land of a diminutive race of men, called Pygmies, who were so small that they lived in constant dread of their neighbors, so much larger and stronger than they, and of the cranes, which passed over their country in great flocks, and sometimes alighted to devour their harvests. To guard against these constant inroads, the Pygmies finally accepted the services of AntÆus, a giant son of GÆa, who generously offered to defend them against all their enemies. When these little people, therefore, saw Hercules’ mighty form looming up in the dim distance, they called aloud for fear, and bade AntÆus go forth and kill the new invader, who, they wrongly fancied, had evil designs against them. Proud of his strength, AntÆus went to meet Hercules, and defied him. A fierce struggle was the immediate result of this challenge, and, as the combatants were of equal size and strength, the victory seemed very uncertain. At last Hercules felt his great strength begin to fail, and noticed that every time his The giant struggled with all his might to get free; but Hercules held him fast, and felt him grow weaker and weaker, now that he was no longer sustained by his mother Earth, from whom he derived all his strength, until at last his struggles ceased, and he hung limp and lifeless in Hercules’ crushing embrace. “Lifts proud AntÆus from his mother-plains, And with strong grasp the struggling giant strains; Back falls his fainting head and clammy hair, Writhe his weak limbs, and flits his life in air.” Darwin. Atlas. Now that the gigantic defender of the Pygmies no longer blocked his way, Hercules traveled onward in search of Atlas, whom he finally found supporting the heavens on his broad shoulders. Atlas listened attentively to all Hercules had to say, declared he knew where the apples could be found, and promised to get them if the hero would only relieve him of his burden for a little while. Glad to accomplish his purpose so easily, Hercules allowed the burden of the heavens to be transferred to his shoulders, and Atlas hastened off to fulfill his part of the agreement. From afar the giant saw the golden fruit glittering in the sunshine. Stealthily he drew near, entered the gardens, slew the dragon in his sleep, plucked the apples, and returned unmolested to the place where he had left Hercules. But his steps became slower and slower; and as he neared the hero, he could not help thinking with horror of the burden he must so soon resume, and bear for centuries, perhaps, without relief. This thought oppressed him. Freedom was so sweet, that he resolved to keep it, and, coolly stepping up to Hercules, announced that he would carry the golden apples to Eurystheus, and leave him to support the heavens in his stead. Feigning “There Atlas, son of great Iapetus, With head inclined and ever-during arms, Sustains the spacious heavens.” Hesiod. It was during the course of one of his mighty labors, that Hercules, with one wrench of his powerful arm, tore a cleft in the mountains, and allowed the waters of the Sea to flow into Oceanus; and ever since, the rocks on either side of the Strait of Gibraltar have borne the name of Hercules’ Pillars. The twelfth and last task appointed by Eurystheus was the most difficult of all to perform. Hercules was commanded to descend into Hades and bring up the dog Cerberus, securely bound. “But for the last, to Pluto’s drear abode Through the dark jaws of TÆnarus he went, To drag the triple-headed dog to light.” Euripides (Potter’s tr.). This command, like all the others, was speedily obeyed; but Eurystheus was so terrified at the aspect of the triple-headed dog, from the foam of whose dripping jaws the nightshade sprang, that he took refuge in a huge jar, and refused to come out until Hercules had carried the monster back to his cave. Olympian Games. The twelve appointed labors were finished; the time of bondage was ended; and Hercules, a free man, could wander at his own sweet will, and enjoy the happiness of freedom. A roaming existence had, from force of habit, become a necessity: so His sympathetic inquiries soon brought forth a full account of Alcestis’ sacrifice of her own life to insure the immortality of her husband (p. Hercules took a prominent part in many heroic enterprises. Among others, he joined in the Argonautic expedition (p. Hercules and Omphale. But the hero, although so lately escaped from servitude, was soon obliged to return into bondage; for in a fit of anger he slew a man, and was condemned by the assembled gods to serve Omphale, Queen of Lydia, for a certain lapse of time. No great deeds were now required of Hercules, whose strength was derided by his new mistress, and who, governing him easily by his admiration for her, made him submit to occupations unworthy of a man, and, while he was busy spinning, decked herself in his lion’s skin, and brandished his renowned club. “His lion spoils the laughing Fair demands, And gives the distaff to his awkward hands.” Darwin. HERCULES AT THE FEET OF OMPHALE.—Gleyre. However unworthy these effeminate tasks may seem for such a hero, they proved very agreeable indeed to Hercules, who, having fallen in love with his new mistress, seemed to wish nothing better than to remain her slave forever, and end his days in idleness and pleasure. Great labors were awaiting his mighty arm, Hercules and Deianeira In the course of his wanderings, Hercules next met Deianeira, daughter of Œneus, and, having fallen in love with her, expressed a desire to marry her. But unfortunately another suitor, the river god Achelous, had already won the father’s consent. “Achelous came, The river god, to ask a father’s voice, And snatched me to his arms.” Sophocles (Francklin’s tr.). So sure was this suitor of his attractions, that he did not even deem it necessary to secure the maiden’s good graces; and when Hercules made known his love, she immediately promised to marry him, if he would only free her from the lover her father would fain force upon her. Delighted to be able to win his bride and punish his rival at the same time, Hercules challenged Achelous; and now began a wrestling match, the fame of which has come down to us through all the intervening centuries. Achelous was an opponent worthy of Hercules, and, besides, took advantage of his power to change his form at will, further to perplex and harass the sturdy hero. At last he assumed the shape of a bull, and with lowered horns rushed toward Hercules, intending to toss him aside. The hero, skillfully avoiding his first onset, seized him by one of his great thickset horns, and held it so firmly that all the bull’s efforts to free himself from his powerful grasp were vain, until the horn broke. The Goddess of Plenty, the Attican Fortuna, a witness of this strange combat, appropriated the broken horn, stuffed her treasures in its hollow, and was so well pleased with the effect, that she decreed it should henceforth be one of her attributes. The fight, only temporarily suspended, was now resumed with redoubled ardor, for each of the lovers was intent upon winning the hand of the fair Deianeira. FORTUNA. (Vatican, Rome.) Dire was the noise of rattling bows, Of front to front opposed, and hand to hand: Deep was the animated strife For love, for conquest, and for life.” Sophocles (Francklin’s tr.). The victory, though long uncertain, finally rested with Hercules, who triumphantly departed with his hard-won bride, for his destiny would not permit him to tarry long in any place. Instead of wandering alone now, with none to cheer or sympathize, Hercules had Deianeira ever at his side; and after many days they came to the river Evenus, whose usually shallow and peaceful waters were swollen and turbid, for violent rainstorms had recently swept over that portion of the country. Story of Nessus. Hercules paused for a moment to contemplate the stream, and glanced about for some safe mode to transport Deianeira across. While he was thus considering, a Centaur by the name of Nessus came to his assistance, and proposed to carry the fair young bride to the other shore in complete safety, if she would but consent to mount upon his broad back. “The hoary centaur, who was wont for hire To bear the traveler o’er the rapid flood Of deep Evenus: not with oars or sail He stemm’d the torrent, but with nervous arm Opposed and pass’d it; me, when first a bride, I left my father’s hospitable roof With my Alcides, in his arms he bore Athwart the current.” Sophocles (Francklin’s tr.). Hercules, only too glad to avail himself of the Centaur’s kind offer of assistance, quickly helped Deianeira to mount, saw them descend into the water, and prepared to follow, holding his bow and arrows aloft in one hand, and breasting the waves with the other. Now, the Centaur Nessus did not often have the good fortune Nessus’ robe. A loud shriek from Deianeira attracted Hercules’ attention, and a second later one of his poisoned arrows had brought the would-be ravisher to the ground, pierced through the heart. With dying accents the Centaur Nessus professed repentance, and bade Deianeira take his robe,—but slightly stained with the blood which gushed from the wound inflicted by the poisoned arrow,—and keep it carefully, for it had magic power; and if she ever found her husband’s love waning, he assured her, that, could she but induce him to put it on, all his early affection would revive, as pure and fervent as during their honeymoon. “‘Take This white robe. It is costly. See, my blood Has stained it but a little. I did wrong: I know it, and repent me. If there come A time when he grows cold—for all the race Of heroes wander, nor can any love Fix theirs for long—take it and wrap him in it, And he shall love again.’” Lewis Morris. Deianeira gratefully accepted the proffered gift, and promised to treasure it up carefully, although she sincerely hoped she would never be called upon to make use of it. Years passed by. Hercules often left Deianeira to deliver the oppressed and relieve the suffering, for people came from great distances to ask for his aid; and although his absences were sometimes prolonged, he always returned to her side, as loving as ever, and she had no cause for complaint. Finally duty took him back to the court of Eurytus, where he beheld Iole, whom he had seen and loved in the beginning of his career, but whom he had been obliged to Deianeira’s jealousy. Finally she heard that Hercules was wending his way homeward again, and her heart bounded with joy, but only to sink more heavily when told that he was accompanied by Iole and a numerous train. Then she remembered the long-forgotten gift of the Centaur. With trembling hands she sought the glittering robe, gave it to a messenger, and bade him hasten to meet Hercules, and prevail upon him to wear it for his triumphant return. The messenger, Lichas, hastened to do her bidding, and Deianeira waited with fast-beating heart for the success of her venture. “I only wish the charm may be of power To win Alcides from this virgin’s love, And bring him back to Deianeira’s arms.” Sophocles (Francklin’s tr.). Lichas acquitted himself faithfully of his errand; and Hercules, viewing the costly garment, and anxious to appear to his best advantage before the bright eyes of Iole, immediately donned the richly embroidered robe. Hercules’ death. He had no sooner put it on, than the Centaur’s poisoned blood began its deadly work. First he experienced a burning, stinging sensation, which ran like fire through every vein. Vainly he tried to tear off the fatal garment. It clung to his limbs, and the poison ate its way into his flesh, until the pain was greater than he could bear. FARNESE HERCULES. (National Museum, Naples.) In his rage at the trick which had been played upon him, he seized Lichas—the unfortunate bearer of the poisoned robe—by “And Lichas from the top of Œta threw Into th’ Euboic Sea.” Milton. Then, resolved to end these unendurable torments by a death worthy of his whole life, Hercules called his servants, and bade them build his funeral pyre on the mountain peak; but they, in tears, refused to obey, for they could not bear the thought of parting with their beloved master. Commands and entreaties alike failed to move them: so Hercules climbed up the mountain side alone, tore up the huge oaks by their roots, flung them one upon the other until he had raised a mighty pile, upon which he stretched his colossal, pain-racked limbs, and bade his friend Philoctetes set fire to the stupendous mass. At first Philoctetes also refused to do his bidding; but, bribed by the promise of the world-renowned poisoned arrows, he finally consented to do as Hercules wished, and the red flames rose higher and higher, the wood crackled and burned, and the hero was soon enveloped in sheets of flame, which purged him from all mortality. Then Jupiter came down from his glorious abode, caught the noble soul in his mighty arms, and bore it off to Olympus, there to dwell in happiness forever with Hebe, the fair goddess of youth, whose hand was given him in marriage. “Till the god, the earthly part forsaken, From the man in flames asunder taken, Drank the heavenly ethers’ purer breath. Joyous in the new, unwonted lightness, Earth’s dark, heavy burden lost in death. High Olympus gives harmonious greeting To the hall where reigns his sire adored; Youth’s bright goddess, with a blush at meeting, Gives the nectar to her lord.” Schiller (S. G. B.’s tr.). Worship of Hercules. “Great Alcides, stooping with his toil, Rests on his club.” Pope. It is said that some of the games celebrated at Olympia were held in his honor, although originally instituted by him in honor of Jupiter, his father. The Nemean Games, celebrated in the forest of Nemea, the scene of his first great labor, were the principal games held in Greece in commemoration of his noble deeds and early death. |
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