Tanglewood Tales (21 page)

Read Tanglewood Tales Online

Authors: Nathaniel Hawthorne

Tags: #General Fiction

BOOK: Tanglewood Tales
8.35Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Now, although you may not have supposed it, Proserpina found it
impossible to take leave of poor King Pluto without some regrets, and a
good deal of compunction for not telling him about the pomegranate. She
even shed a tear or two, thinking how lonely and cheerless the great
palace would seem to him, with all its ugly glare of artificial light,
after she herself—his one little ray of natural sunshine, whom he had
stolen, to be sure, but only because he valued her so much—after she
should have departed. I know not how many kind things she might have
said to the disconsolate king of the mines, had not Quicksilver hurried
her way.

"Come along quickly," whispered he in her ear, "or his majesty may
change his royal mind. And take care, above all things, that you say
nothing of what was brought you on the golden salver."

In a very short time, they had passed the great gateway (leaving
the three-headed Cerberus, barking, and yelping, and growling, with
threefold din, behind them), and emerged upon the surface of the earth.
It was delightful to behold, as Proserpina hastened along, how the path
grew verdant behind and on either side of her. Wherever she set her
blessed foot, there was at once a dewy flower. The violets gushed up
along the wayside. The grass and the grain began to sprout with tenfold
vigor and luxuriance, to make up for the dreary months that had been
wasted in barrenness. The starved cattle immediately set to work
grazing, after their long fast, and ate enormously, all day, and got up
at midnight to eat more.

But I can assure you it was a busy time of year with the farmers, when
they found the summer coming upon them with such a rush. Nor must I
forget to say, that all the birds in the whole world hopped about upon
the newly-blossoming trees, and sang together, in a prodigious ecstasy
of joy.

Mother Ceres had returned to her deserted home, and was sitting
disconsolately on the doorstep, with her torch burning in her hand. She
had been idly watching the flame for some moments past, when, all at
once, it flickered and went out.

"What does this mean?" thought she. "It was an enchanted torch, and
should have kept burning till my child came back."

Lifting her eyes, she was surprised to see a sudden verdure flashing
over the brown and barren fields, exactly as you may have observed a
golden hue gleaming far and wide across the landscape, from the just
risen sun.

"Does the earth disobey me?" exclaimed Mother Ceres, indignantly.
"Does it presume to be green, when I have bidden it be barren, until my
daughter shall be restored to my arms?"

"Then open your arms, dear mother," cried a well-known voice, "and take
your little daughter into them."

And Proserpina came running, and flung herself upon her mother's bosom.
Their mutual transport is not to be described. The grief of their
separation had caused both of them to shed a great many tears; and now
they shed a great many more, because their joy could not so well express
itself in any other way.

When their hearts had grown a little more quiet, Mother Ceres looked
anxiously at Proserpina.

"My child," said she, "did you taste any food while you were in King
Pluto's palace?"

"Dearest mother," exclaimed Proserpina, "I will tell you the whole
truth. Until this very morning, not a morsel of food had passed my lips.
But to-day, they brought me a pomegranate (a very dry one it was, and
all shriveled up, till there was little left of it but seeds and skin),
and having seen no fruit for so long a time, and being faint with
hunger, I was tempted just to bite it. The instant I tasted it, King
Pluto and Quicksilver came into the room. I had not swallowed a morsel;
but—dear mother, I hope it was no harm—but six of the pomegranate
seeds, I am afraid, remained in my mouth."

"Ah, unfortunate child, and miserable me!" exclaimed Ceres. "For each
of those six pomegranate seeds you must spend one month of every year in
King Pluto's palace. You are but half restored to your mother. Only six
months with me, and six with that good-for-nothing King of Darkness!"

"Do not speak so harshly of poor King Pluto," said Prosperina, kissing
her mother. "He has some very good qualities; and I really think I can
bear to spend six months in his palace, if he will only let me spend
the other six with you. He certainly did very wrong to carry me off; but
then, as he says, it was but a dismal sort of life for him, to live in
that great gloomy place, all alone; and it has made a wonderful change
in his spirits to have a little girl to run up stairs and down. There
is some comfort in making him so happy; and so, upon the whole, dearest
mother, let us be thankful that he is not to keep me the whole year
round."

The Golden Fleece
*

When Jason, the son of the dethroned King of Iolchos, was a little
boy, he was sent away from his parents, and placed under the queerest
schoolmaster that ever you heard of. This learned person was one of the
people, or quadrupeds, called Centaurs. He lived in a cavern, and had
the body and legs of a white horse, with the head and shoulders of a
man. His name was Chiron; and, in spite of his odd appearance, he was a
very excellent teacher, and had several scholars, who afterwards did him
credit by making a great figure in the world. The famous Hercules was
one, and so was Achilles, and Philoctetes likewise, and Aesculapius, who
acquired immense repute as a doctor. The good Chiron taught his pupils
how to play upon the harp, and how to cure diseases, and how to use the
sword and shield, together with various other branches of education, in
which the lads of those days used to be instructed, instead of writing
and arithmetic.

I have sometimes suspected that Master Chiron was not really very
different from other people, but that, being a kind-hearted and merry
old fellow, he was in the habit of making believe that he was a horse,
and scrambling about the schoolroom on all fours, and letting the little
boys ride upon his back. And so, when his scholars had grown up, and
grown old, and were trotting their grandchildren on their knees, they
told them about the sports of their school days; and these young folks
took the idea that their grandfathers had been taught their letters by
a Centaur, half man and half horse. Little children, not quite
understanding what is said to them, often get such absurd notions into
their heads, you know.

Be that as it may, it has always been told for a fact (and always will
be told, as long as the world lasts), that Chiron, with the head of a
schoolmaster, had the body and legs of a horse. Just imagine the grave
old gentleman clattering and stamping into the schoolroom on his four
hoofs, perhaps treading on some little fellow's toes, flourishing his
switch tail instead of a rod, and, now and then, trotting out of doors
to eat a mouthful of grass! I wonder what the blacksmith charged him for
a set of iron shoes?

So Jason dwelt in the cave, with this four-footed Chiron, from the time
that he was an infant, only a few months old, until he had grown to
the full height of a man. He became a very good harper, I suppose, and
skilful in the use of weapons, and tolerably acquainted with herbs and
other doctor's stuff, and, above all, an admirable horseman; for, in
teaching young people to ride, the good Chiron must have been without
a rival among schoolmasters. At length, being now a tall and athletic
youth, Jason resolved to seek his fortune in the world, without asking
Chiron's advice, or telling him anything about the matter. This was very
unwise, to be sure; and I hope none of you, my little hearers, will ever
follow Jason's example.

But, you are to understand, he had heard how that he himself was a
prince royal, and how his father, King Jason, had been deprived of
the kingdom of Iolchos by a certain Pelias, who would also have killed
Jason, had he not been hidden in the Centaur's cave. And, being come
to the strength of a man, Jason determined to set all this business to
rights, and to punish the wicked Pelias for wronging his dear father,
and to cast him down from the throne, and seat himself there instead.

With this intention, he took a spear in each hand, and threw a leopard's
skin over his shoulders, to keep off the rain, and set forth on his
travels, with his long yellow ringlets waving in the wind. The part of
his dress on which he most prided himself was a pair of sandals, that
had been his father's. They were handsomely embroidered, and were tied
upon his feet with strings of gold. But his whole attire was such as
people did not very often see; and as he passed along, the women and
children ran to the doors and windows, wondering whither this beautiful
youth was journeying, with his leopard's skin and his golden-tied
sandals, and what heroic deeds he meant to perform, with a spear in his
right hand and another in his left.

I know not how far Jason had traveled, when he came to a turbulent
river, which rushed right across his pathway, with specks of white
foam among its black eddies, hurrying tumultuously onward, and roaring
angrily as it went. Though not a very broad river in the dry seasons of
the year, it was now swollen by heavy rains and by the melting of the
snow on the sides of Mount Olympus; and it thundered so loudly, and
looked so wild and dangerous, that Jason, bold as he was, thought it
prudent to pause upon the brink. The bed of the stream seemed to be
strewn with sharp and rugged rocks, some of which thrust themselves
above the water. By and by, an uprooted tree, with shattered branches,
came drifting along the current, and got entangled among the rocks. Now
and then, a drowned sheep, and once the carcass of a cow, floated past.

In short, the swollen river had already done a great deal of mischief.
It was evidently too deep for Jason to wade, and too boisterous for him
to swim; he could see no bridge; and as for a boat, had there been any,
the rocks would have broken it to pieces in an instant.

"See the poor lad," said a cracked voice close to his side. "He must
have had but a poor education, since he does not know how to cross
a little stream like this. Or is he afraid of wetting his fine
golden-stringed sandals? It is a pity his four-footed schoolmaster is
not here to carry him safely across on his back!"

Jason looked round greatly surprised, for he did not know that anybody
was near. But beside him stood an old woman, with a ragged mantle over
her head, leaning on a staff, the top of which was carved into the shape
of a cuckoo. She looked very aged, and wrinkled, and infirm; and yet her
eyes, which were as brown as those of an ox, were so extremely large
and beautiful, that, when they were fixed on Jason's eyes, he could
see nothing else but them. The old woman had a pomegranate in her hand,
although the fruit was then quite out of season.

"Whither are you going, Jason?" she now asked.

She seemed to know his name, you will observe; and, indeed, those great
brown eyes looked as if they had a knowledge of everything, whether past
or to come. While Jason was gazing at her, a peacock strutted forward,
and took his stand at the old woman's side.

"I am going to Iolchos," answered the young man, "to bid the wicked
King Pelias come down from my father's throne, and let me reign in his
stead."

"Ah, well, then," said the old woman, still with the same cracked voice,
"if that is all your business, you need not be in a very great hurry.
Just take me on your back, there's a good youth, and carry me across the
river. I and my peacock have something to do on the other side, as well
as yourself."

"Good mother," replied Jason, "your business can hardly be so important
as the pulling down a king from his throne. Besides, as you may see
for yourself, the river is very boisterous; and if I should chance to
stumble, it would sweep both of us away more easily than it has carried
off yonder uprooted tree. I would gladly help you if I could; but I
doubt whether I am strong enough to carry you across."

"Then," said she, very scornfully, "neither are you strong enough to
pull King Pelias off his throne. And, Jason, unless you will help an old
woman at her need, you ought not to be a king. What are kings made for,
save to succor the feeble and distressed? But do as you please. Either
take me on your back, or with my poor old limbs I shall try my best to
struggle across the stream."

Saying this, the old woman poked with her staff in the river, as if to
find the safest place in its rocky bed where she might make the first
step. But Jason, by this time, had grown ashamed of his reluctance to
help her. He felt that he could never forgive himself, if this poor
feeble creature should come to any harm in attempting to wrestle against
the headlong current. The good Chiron, whether half horse or no, had
taught him that the noblest use of his strength was to assist the weak;
and also that he must treat every young woman as if she were his sister,
and every old one like a mother. Remembering these maxims, the vigorous
and beautiful young man knelt down, and requested the good dame to mount
upon his back.

"The passage seems to me not very safe," he remarked. "But as your
business is so urgent, I will try to carry you across. If the river
sweeps you away, it shall take me too."

"That, no doubt, will be a great comfort to both of us," quoth the old
woman. "But never fear. We shall get safely across."

So she threw her arms around Jason's neck; and lifting her from the
ground, he stepped boldly into the raging and foaming current, and began
to stagger away from the shore. As for the peacock, it alighted on the
old dame's shoulder. Jason's two spears, one in each hand, kept him
from stumbling, and enabled him to feel his way among the hidden rocks;
although every instant, he expected that his companion and himself would
go down the stream, together with the driftwood of shattered trees, and
the carcasses of the sheep and cow. Down came the cold, snowy torrent
from the steep side of Olympus, raging and thundering as if it had a
real spite against Jason, or, at all events, were determined to snatch
off his living burden from his shoulders. When he was half way across,
the uprooted tree (which I have already told you about) broke loose
from among the rocks, and bore down upon him, with all its splintered
branches sticking out like the hundred arms of the giant Briareus. It
rushed past, however, without touching him. But the next moment his
foot was caught in a crevice between two rocks, and stuck there so fast,
that, in the effort to get free, he lost one of his golden-stringed
sandals.

Other books

Fannin's Flame by Tina Leonard
The Girl From Home by Adam Mitzner
Harmonic by Erica O'Rourke
Wild Rain by Christine Feehan
The Perfect Location by Kate Forster
Red Flags by Juris Jurjevics
Shattered by Dean Murray