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<!DOCTYPE html>
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<title>
The Project Gutenberg E-text of The Gorgon's Head, by Nathaniel Hawthorne
</title>
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</head>
<body>
<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 9255 ***</div>
<p>
<br ><br >
</p>
<h4>
A WONDER-BOOK FOR GIRLS AND BOYS<br >
</h4>
<h3>
By Nathaniel Hawthorne<br >
</h3>
<p>
<br >
</p>
<h2>
THE GORGON’S HEAD<br >
</h2>
<p>
<br ><br ><br >
</p>
<p class="noindent">
CONTENTS: <br ><br > <a href="#porch">TANGLEWOOD PORCH—Introductory
to “The Gorgon’s Head"</a><br > <a href="#gorgon">THE GORGON’S HEAD</a><br >
<a href="#after">TANGLEWOOD PORCH—After the Story</a><br >
</p>
<p>
<br ><br >
</p>
<p>
The author has long been of opinion that many of the classical myths were
capable of being rendered into very capital reading for children.
</p>
<p>
In the little volume here offered to the public, he has worked up half a
dozen of them, with this end in view. A great freedom of treatment was
necessary to his plan; but it will be observed by every one who attempts
to render these legends malleable in his intellectual furnace, that they
are marvellously independent of all temporary modes and circumstances.
They remain essentially the same, after changes that would affect the
identity of almost anything else.
</p>
<p>
He does not, therefore, plead guilty to a sacrilege, in having sometimes
shaped anew, as his fancy dictated, the forms that have been hallowed by
an antiquity of two or three thousand years. No epoch of time can claim a
copyright in these immortal fables. They seem never to have been made; and
certainly, so long as man exists, they can never perish; but, by their
indestructibility itself, they are legitimate subjects for every age to
clothe with its own garniture of manners and sentiment, and to imbue with
its own morality. In the present version they may have lost much of their
classical aspect (or, at all events, the author has not been careful to
preserve it), and have, perhaps, assumed a Gothic or romantic guise.
</p>
<p>
In performing this pleasant task,—for it has been really a task fit
for hot weather, and one of the most agreeable, of a literary kind, which
he ever undertook,—the author has not always thought it necessary to
write downward, in order to meet the comprehension of children. He has
generally suffered the theme to soar, whenever such was its tendency, and
when he himself was buoyant enough to follow without an effort. Children
possess an unestimated sensibility to whatever is deep or high, in
imagination or feeling, so long as it is simple, likewise. It is only the
artificial and the complex that bewilder them.
</p>
<p class="noindent">
Lenox, July 15, 1851.
</p>
<p>
<br ><br ><br > <a id="porch"></a>
</p>
<h4>
THE GORGON’S HEAD
</h4>
<h3>
TANGLEWOOD PORCH
</h3>
<h4>
INTRODUCTORY TO “THE GORGON’S HEAD.”
</h4>
<p>
Beneath the porch of the country-seat called Tanglewood, one fine autumnal
morning, was assembled a merry party of little folks, with a tall youth in
the midst of them. They had planned a nutting expedition, and were
impatiently waiting for the mists to roll up the hill-slopes, and for the
sun to pour the warmth of the Indian summer over the fields and pastures,
and into the nooks of the many-colored woods. There was a prospect of as
fine a day as ever gladdened the aspect of this beautiful and comfortable
world. As yet, however, the morning mist filled up the whole length and
breadth of the valley, above which, on a gently sloping eminence, the
mansion stood.
</p>
<p>
This body of white vapor extended to within less than a hundred yards of
the house. It completely hid everything beyond that distance, except a few
ruddy or yellow tree-tops, which here and there emerged, and were
glorified by the early sunshine, as was likewise the broad surface of the
mist. Four or five miles off to the southward rose the summit of Monument
Mountain, and seemed to be floating on a cloud. Some fifteen miles farther
away, in the same direction, appeared the loftier Dome of Taconic, looking
blue and indistinct, and hardly so substantial as the vapory sea that
almost rolled over it. The nearer hills, which bordered the valley, were
half submerged, and were specked with little cloud-wreaths all the way to
their tops. On the whole, there was so much cloud, and so little solid
earth, that it had the effect of a vision.
</p>
<p>
The children above-mentioned, being as full of life as they could hold,
kept overflowing from the porch of Tanglewood, and scampering along the
gravel-walk, or rushing across the dewy herbage of the lawn. I can hardly
tell how many of these small people there were; not less than nine or ten,
however, nor more than a dozen, of all sorts, sizes, and ages, whether
girls or boys. They were brothers, sisters, and cousins, together with a
few of their young acquaintances, who had been invited by Mr. and Mrs.
Pringle to spend some of this delightful weather with their own children,
at Tanglewood. I am afraid to tell you their names, or even to give them
any names which other children have ever been called by; because, to my
certain knowledge, authors sometimes get themselves into great trouble by
accidentally giving the names of real persons to the characters in their
books. For this reason, I mean to call them Primrose, Periwinkle, Sweet
Fern, Dandelion, Blue Eye, Clover, Huckleberry, Cowslip, Squash-blossom,
Milkweed, Plantain, and Buttercup; although, to be sure, such titles might
better suit a group of fairies than a company of earthly children.
</p>
<p>
It is not to be supposed that these little folks were to be permitted by
their careful fathers and mothers, uncles, aunts, or grandparents, to
stray abroad into the woods and fields, without the guardianship of some
particularly grave and elderly person. O no, indeed! In the first sentence
of my book, you will recollect that I spoke of a tall youth, standing in
the midst of the children. His name—(and I shall let you know his
real name, because he considers it a great honor to have told the stories
that are here to be printed)—his name was Eustace Bright. He was a
student at Williams College, and had reached, I think, at this period, the
venerable age of eighteen—years; so that he felt quite like a
grandfather towards Periwinkle, Dandelion, Huckleberry, Squash-blossom,
Milkweed, and the rest, who were only half or a third as venerable as he.
A trouble in his eyesight (such as many students think it necessary to
have, nowadays, in order to prove their diligence at their books) had kept
him from college a week or two after the beginning of the term. But, for
my part, I have seldom met with a pair of eyes that looked as if they
could see farther or better than those of Eustace Bright.
</p>
<p>
This learned student was slender, and rather pale, as all Yankee students
are; but yet of a healthy aspect, and as light and active as if he had
wings to his shoes. By the by, being much addicted to wading through
streamlets and across meadows, he had put on cowhide boots for the
expedition. He wore a linen blouse, a cloth cap, and a pair of green
spectacles, which he had assumed, probably, less for the preservation of
his eyes, than for the dignity that they imparted to his countenance. In
either case, however, he might as well have let then alone; for
Huckleberry, a mischievous little elf, crept behind Eustace as he sat on
the steps of the porch, snatched the spectacles from his nose, and clapped
them on her own; and as the student forgot to take them back, they fell
off into the grass, and lay there till the next spring.
</p>
<p>
Now, Eustace Bright, you must know, had won great fame among the children,
as a narrator of wonderful stories; and though he sometimes pretended to
be annoyed, when they teased him for more, and more, and always for more,
yet I really doubt whether he liked anything quite so well as to tell
them. You might have seen his eyes twinkle, therefore, when Clover, Sweet
Fern, Cowslip, Buttercup, and most of their playmates, besought him to
relate one of his stories, while they were waiting for the mist to clear
up.
</p>
<p>
“Yes, Cousin Eustace,” said Primrose, who was a bright girl of twelve,
with laughing eyes, and a nose that turned up a little, “the morning is
certainly the best time for the stories with which you so often tire out
our patience. We shall be in less danger of hurting your feelings, by
falling asleep at the most interesting points,—as little Cowslip and
I did last night!”
</p>
<p>
“Naughty Primrose,” cried Cowslip, a child of six years old; “I did not
fall asleep, and I only shut my eyes, so as to see a picture of what
Cousin Eustace was telling about. His stories are good to hear at night,
because we can dream about them asleep; and good in the morning, too,
because then we can dream about them awake. So I hope he will tell us one
this very minute.”
</p>
<p>
“Thank you, my little Cowslip,” said Eustace; “certainly you shall have
the best story I can think of, if it were only for defending me so well
from that naughty Primrose. But, children, I have already told you so many
fairy tales, that I doubt whether there is a single one which you have not
heard at least twice over. I am afraid you will fall asleep in reality, if
I repeat any of them again.”
</p>
<p>
“No, no, no!” cried Blue Eye, Periwinkle, Plantain, and half a dozen
others. “We like a story all the better for having heard it two or three
tunes before.”
</p>
<p>
And it is a truth, as regards children, that a story seems often to deepen
its mark in their interest, not merely by two or three, but by numberless
repetitions. But Eustace Bright, in the exuberance of his resources,
scorned to avail himself of an advantage which an older story-teller would
have been glad to grasp at.
</p>
<p>
“It would be a great pity,” said he, “if a man of my learning (to say
nothing of original fancy) could not find a new story every day, year in
and year out, for children such as you. I will tell you one of the nursery
tales that were made for the amusement of our great old grandmother, the
Earth, when she was a child in frock and pinafore. There are a hundred
such; and it is a wonder to me that they have not long ago been put into
picture-books for little girls and boys. But, instead of that, old
gray-bearded grandsires pore over them, in musty volumes of Greek, and
puzzle themselves with trying to find out when, and how, and for what they
were made.”
</p>
<p>
“Well, well, well, well, Cousin Eustace!” cried all the children at once;
“talk no more about your stories, but begin.”
</p>
<p>
“Sit down, then, every soul of you,” said Eustace Bright, “and be all as
still as so many mice. At the slightest interruption, whether from great,
naughty Primrose, little Dandelion, or any other, I shall bite the story
short off between my teeth, and swallow the untold part. But, in the first
place, do any of you know what a Gorgon is?”
</p>
<p>
“I do,” said Primrose.
</p>
<p>
“Then hold your tongue!” rejoined Eustace, who had rather she would have
known nothing about the matter. “Hold all your tongues, and I shall tell
you a sweet pretty story of a Gorgon’s head.”
</p>
<p>
And so he did, as you may begin to read on the next page. Working up his
sophomorical erudition with a good deal of tact, and incurring great
obligations to Professor Anthon, he, nevertheless, disregarded all
classical authorities, whenever the vagrant audacity of his imagination
impelled him to do so.
</p>
<p>
<br ><br ><br > <a id="gorgon"></a>
</p>
<h3>
THE GORGON’S HEAD.
</h3>
<p>
Perseus was the son of Danae, who was the daughter of a king. And when
Perseus was a very little boy, some wicked people put his mother and
himself into a chest, and set them afloat upon the sea. The wind blew
freshly, and drove the chest away from the shore, and the uneasy billows
tossed it up and down; while Danae clasped her child closely to her bosom,
and dreaded that some big wave would dash its foamy crest over them both.
The chest sailed on, however, and neither sank nor was upset; until, when
night was coming, it floated so near an island that it got entangled in a
fisherman’s nets, and was drawn out high and dry upon the sand. The island
was called Seriphus, and it was reigned over by King Polydectes, who
happened to be the fisherman’s brother.
</p>
<p>
This fisherman, I am glad to tell you, was an exceedingly humane and
upright man. He showed great kindness to Danae and her little boy; and
continued to befriend them, until Perseus had grown to be a handsome
youth, very strong and active, and skilful in the use of arms. Long before
this time, King Polydectes had seen the two strangers—the mother and
her child—who had come to his dominions in a floating chest. As he
was not good and kind, like his brother the fisherman, but extremely
wicked, he resolved to send Perseus on a dangerous enterprise, in which he
would probably be killed, and then to do some great mischief to Danae
herself. So this bad-hearted king spent a long while in considering what
was the most dangerous thing that a young man could possibly undertake to
perform. At last, having hit upon an enterprise that promised to turn out
as fatally as he desired, he sent for the youthful Perseus.
</p>
<p>
The young man came to the palace, and found the king sitting upon his
throne.
</p>
<p>
“Perseus,” said King Polydectes, smiling craftily upon him, “you are grown
up a fine young man. You and your good mother have received a great deal
of kindness from myself, as well as from my worthy brother the fisherman,
and I suppose you would not be sorry to repay some of it.”
</p>
<p>
“Please your Majesty,” answered Perseus, “I would willingly risk my life
to do so.”
</p>
<p>
“Well, then,” continued the king, still with a curving smile on his lips,
“I have a little adventure to propose to you; and, as you are a brave and
enterprising youth, you will doubtless look upon it as a great piece of
good luck to have so rare an opportunity of distinguishing yourself. You
must know, my good Perseus, I think of getting married to the beautiful
Princess Hippodamia; and it is customary, on these occasions, to make the
bride a present of some far-fetched and elegant curiosity. I have been a
little perplexed, I must honestly confess, where to obtain anything likely
to please a princess of her exquisite taste. But, this morning, I flatter
myself, I have thought of precisely the article.”
</p>
<p>
“And can I assist your Majesty in obtaining it?” cried Perseus, eagerly.
</p>
<p>
“You can, if you are as brave a youth as I believe you to be,” replied
King Polydectes, with the utmost graciousness of manner. “The bridal gift
which I have set my heart on presenting to the beautiful Hippodamia is the
head of the Gorgon Medusa, with the snaky locks; and I depend on you, my
dear Perseus, to bring it to me. So, as I am anxious to settle affairs
with the princess, the sooner you go in quest of the Gorgon, the better I
shall be pleased.”
</p>
<p>
“I will set out to-morrow morning,” answered Perseus.
</p>
<p>
“Pray do so, my gallant youth,” rejoined the king. “And, Perseus, in
cutting off the Gorgon’s head, be careful to make a clean stroke, so as
not to injure its appearance. You must bring it home in the very best
condition, in order to suit the exquisite taste of the beautiful Princess
Hippodamia.”
</p>
<p>
Perseus left the palace, but was scarcely out of hearing before Polydectes
burst into a laugh; being greatly amused, wicked king that he was, to find
how readily the young man fell into the snare. The news quickly spread
abroad, that Perseus had undertaken to cut off the head of Medusa with the
snaky locks. Everybody was rejoiced; for most of the inhabitants of the
island were as wicked as the king himself, and would have liked nothing
better than to see some enormous mischief happen to Danae and her son. The
only good man in this unfortunate island of Seriphus appears to have been
the fisherman. As Perseus walked along, therefore, the people pointed
after him, and made mouths, and winked to one another, and ridiculed him
as loudly as they dared.
</p>
<p>
“Ho, ho!” cried they; “Medusa’s snakes will sting him soundly!”
</p>
<p>
Now, there were three Gorgons alive, at that period; and they were the
most strange and terrible monsters that had ever been since the world was
made, or that have been seen in after days, or that are likely to be seen
in all time to come. I hardly know what sort of creature or hobgoblin to
call them. They were three sisters, and seem to have borne some distant
resemblance to women, but were really a very frightful and mischievous
species of dragon. It is, indeed, difficult to imagine what hideous beings
these three sisters were. Why, instead of locks of hair, if you can
believe me, they had each of them a hundred enormous snakes growing on
their heads, all alive, twisting, wriggling, curling, and thrusting out
their venomous’ tongues, with forked stings at the end! The teeth of the
Gorgons were terribly long tusks; their hands were made of brass; and
their bodies were all over scales, which, if not iron, were something as
hard and impenetrable. They had wings, too, and exceedingly splendid ones,
I can assure you; for every feather in them was pure, bright, glittering,
burnished gold, and they looked very dazzlingly, no doubt, when the
Gorgons were flying about in the sunshine.
</p>
<p>
But when people happened to catch a glimpse of their glittering
brightness, aloft in the air, they seldom stopped to gaze, but ran and hid
themselves as speedily as they could. You will think, perhaps, that they
were afraid of being stung by the serpents that served the Gorgons instead
of hair,—or of having their heads bitten off by their ugly tusks,—or
of being torn all to pieces by their brazen claws. Well, to be sure, these
were some of the dangers, but by no means the greatest, nor the most
difficult to avoid. For the worst thing about these abominable Gorgons
was, that, if once a poor mortal fixed his eyes full upon one of their
faces, he was certain, that very instant, to be changed from warm flesh
and blood into cold and lifeless stone!
</p>
<p>
Thus, as you will easily perceive, it was a very dangerous adventure that
the wicked King Polydectes had contrived for this innocent young man.
Perseus himself, when he had thought over the matter, could not help
seeing that he had very little chance of coming safely through it, and
that he was far more likely to become a stone image than to bring back the
head of Medusa with the snaky locks. For, not to speak of other
difficulties, there was one which it would have puzzled an older man than
Perseus to get over. Not only must he fight with and slay this
golden-winged, iron-scaled, long-tusked, brazen-clawed, snaky-haired
monster, but he must do it with his eyes shut, or, at least, without so
much as a glance at the enemy with whom he was contending. Else, while his
arm was lifted to strike, he would stiffen into stone, and stand with that
uplifted arm for centuries, until time, and the wind and weather, should
crumble him quite away. This would be a very sad thing to befall a young
mail who wanted to perform a great many brave deeds, and to enjoy a great
deal of happiness, in this bright and beautiful world.
</p>
<p>
So disconsolate did these thoughts make him, that Perseus could not bear
to tell his another what he had undertaken to do. He therefore took his
shield, girded on his sword, and crossed over from the island to the
mainland, where he sat down in a solitary place, and hardly refrained from
shedding tears.
</p>
<p>
But, while he was in this sorrowful mood, he heard a voice close beside
him.
</p>
<p>
“Perseus,” said the voice, “why are you sad?”
</p>
<p>
He lifted his head from his hands, in which he had hidden it, and, behold!
all alone as Perseus had supposed himself to be, there was a stranger in
the solitary place. It was a brisk, intelligent, and remarkably
shrewd-looking young man, with a cloak over his shoulders, an odd sort of
cap on his head, a strangely twisted staff in his hand, and a short and
very crooked sword hanging by his side. He was exceedingly light and
active in his figure, like a person much accustomed to gymnastic
exercises, and well able to leap or run. Above all, the stranger had such
a cheerful, knowing, and helpful aspect (though it was certainly a little
mischievous, into the bargain), that Perseus could not help feeling his
spirits grow livelier, as he gazed at him. Besides, being really a
courageous youth, he felt greatly ashamed that anybody should have found
him with tears in his eyes, like a timid little school-boy, when, after
all, there might be no occasion for despair. So Perseus wiped his eyes,
and answered the stranger pretty briskly, putting on as brave a look as he
could.
</p>
<p>
“I am not so very sad,” said he; “only thoughtful about an adventure that
I have undertaken.”
</p>
<p>
“Oho!” answered the stranger. “Well, tell me all about it, and possibly I
may be of service to you. I have helped a good many young men through
adventures that looked difficult enough beforehand. Perhaps you may have
heard of me. I have more names than one; but the name of Quicksilver suits
me as well as any other. Tell me what your trouble is, and we will talk
the matter over, and see what can be done.”
</p>
<p>
The stranger’s words and manner put Perseus into quite a different mood
from his former one. He resolved to tell Quicksilver all his difficulties,
since he could not easily be worse off than he already was, and, very
possibly, his new friend might give him some advice that would turn out
well in the end. So he let the stranger know, in few words, precisely what
the case was;—how that King Polydeetes wanted the head of Medusa
with the snaky locks as a bridal gift for the beautiful Princess
Hippodamia, and how that he had undertaken to get it for him, but was
afraid of being turned into stone.
</p>
<p>
“And that would be a great pity,” said Quicksilver, with his mischievous
smile. “You would make a very handsome marble statue, it is true, and it
would be a considerable number of centuries before you crumbled away; but,
on the whole, one would rather be a young man for a few years, than a
stone image for a great many.”
</p>
<p>
“O, far rather!” exclaimed Perseus, with the tears again standing in his
eyes. “And, besides, what would my dear mother do, if her beloved son were
turned into a stone?”
</p>
<p>
“Well, well; let us hope that the affair will not turn out so very badly,”
replied Quicksilver, in an encouraging tone. “I am the very person to help
you, if anybody can. My sister and myself will do our utmost to bring you
safe through the adventure, ugly as it now looks.”
</p>
<p>
“Your sister?” repeated Perseus.
</p>
<p>
“Yes, my sister,” said the stranger. “She is very wise, I promise you; and
as for myself, I generally have all my wits about me, such as they are. If
you show yourself bold and cautious, and follow our advice, you need not
fear being a stone image yet awhile. But, first of all, you must polish
your shield, till you can see your face in it as distinctly as in a
mirror.”
</p>
<p>
This seemed to Perseus rather an odd beginning of the adventure; for he
thought it of far more consequence that the shield should be strong enough
to defend him from the Gorgon’s brazen claws, than that it should be
bright enough to show him the reflection of his face. However, concluding
that Quicksilver knew better than himself, he immediately set to work, and
scrubbed the shield with so much diligence and good-will, that it very
quickly shone like the moon at harvest-time. Quicksilver looked at it with
a smile, and nodded his approbation. Then, taking off his own short and
crooked sword, he girded it about Perseus, instead of the one which he had
before worn.
</p>
<p>
“No sword but mine will answer your purpose,” observed he; “the blade has
a most excellent temper, and will cut through iron and brass as easily as
through the slenderest twig. And now we will set out. The next thing is to
find the Three Gray Women, who will tell us where to find the Nymphs.”
</p>
<p>
“The Three Gray Women!” cried Perseus, to whom this seemed only a new
difficulty in the path of his adventure; “pray, who may the Three Gray
Women be? I never heard of them before.”
</p>
<p>
“They are three very strange old ladies,” said Quicksilver, laughing.
“They have but one eye among them, and only one tooth. Moreover, you must
find them out by starlight, or in the dusk of the evening; for they never
show themselves by the light either of the sun or moon.”
</p>
<p>
“But,” said Perseus, “why should I waste my time with these Three Gray
Women? Would it not be better to set out at once in search of the terrible
Gorgons?”
</p>
<p>
“No, no,” answered his friend. “There are other things to be done, before
you can find your way to the Gorgons. There is nothing for it but to hunt
up these old ladies; and when we meet with them, you may be sure that the
Gorgons are not a great way off. Come, let us be stirring!”
</p>
<p>
Perseus, by this time, felt so much confidence in his companion’s
sagacity, that he made no more objections, and professed himself ready to
begin the adventure immediately. They accordingly set out, and walked at a
pretty brisk pace; so brisk, indeed, that Perseus found it rather
difficult to keep up with his nimble friend Quicksilver. To say the truth,
he had a singular idea that Quicksilver was furnished with a pair of
winged shoes, which, of course, helped him along marvellously. And then,
too, when Perseus looked sideways at him, out of the corner of his eye, he
seemed to see wings on the side of his head; although, if he turned a full
gaze, there were no such things to be perceived, but only an odd kind of
cap. But, at all events, the twisted staff was evidently a great
convenience to Quicksilver, and enabled him to proceed so fast, that
Perseus, though a remarkably active young man, began to be out of breath.
</p>
<p>
“Here!” cried Quicksilver, at last,—for he knew well enough, rogue
that he was, how hard Perseus found it to keep pace with him,—“take
you the staff, for you need it a great deal more than I. Are there no
better walkers than yourself, in the island of Seriphus?”
</p>
<p>
“I could walk pretty well,” said Perseus, glancing slyly at his
companion’s feet, “if I had only a pair of winged shoes.”
</p>
<p>
“We must see about getting you a pair,” answered Quicksilver.
</p>
<p>
But the staff helped Perseus along so bravely, that he no longer felt the
slightest weariness. In fact, the stick seemed to be alive in his hand,
and to lend some of its life to Perseus. He and Quicksilver now walked
onward at their ease, talking very sociably together; and Quicksilver told
so many pleasant stories about his former adventures, and how well his
wits had served him on various occasions, that Perseus began to think him
a very wonderful person. He evidently knew the world; and nobody is so
charming to a young man as a friend who has that kind of knowledge.
Perseus listened the more eagerly, in the hope of brightening his own wits
by what he heard.
</p>
<p>
At last, he happened to recollect that Quicksilver had spoken of a sister,
who was to lend her assistance in the adventure which they were now bound
upon.
</p>
<p>
“Where is she?” he inquired. “Shall we not meet her soon?”
</p>
<p>
“All at the proper time,” said his companion. “But this sister of mine,
you must understand, is quite a different sort of character from myself.
She is very grave and prudent, seldom smiles, never laughs, and makes it a
rule not to utter a word unless she has something particularly profound to
say. Neither will she listen to any but the wisest conversation.”
</p>
<p>
“Dear me!” ejaculated Perseus; “I shall be afraid to say a syllable.”
</p>
<p>
“She is a very accomplished person, I assure you,” continued Quicksilver,
“and has all the arts and sciences at her fingers’ ends. In short, she is
so immoderately wise, that many people call her wisdom personified. But,
to tell you the truth, she has hardly vivacity enough for my taste; and I
think you would scarcely find her so pleasant a travelling companion as
myself. She has her good points, nevertheless; and you will find the
benefit of them, in your encounter with the Gorgons.”
</p>
<p>
By this time it had grown quite dusk. They were now come to a very wild
and desert place, overgrown with shaggy bushes, and so silent and solitary
that nobody seemed ever to have dwelt or journeyed there. All was waste
and desolate, in the gray twilight, which grew every moment more obscure.
Perseus looked about him, rather disconsolately, and asked Quicksilver
whether they had a great deal farther to go.
</p>
<p>
“Hist! Hist!” whispered his companion. “Make no noise! This is just the
time and place to meet the Three Gray Women. Be careful that they do not
see you before you see them; for, though they have but a single eye among
the three, it is as sharp-sighted as half a dozen common eyes.”
</p>
<p>
“But what must I do,” asked Perseus, “when we meet them?”
</p>
<p>
Quicksilver explained to Perseus how the Three Gray Women managed with
their one eye. They were in the habit, it seems, of changing it from one
to another, as if it had been a pair of spectacles, or—which would
have suited them better—quizzing-glass. When one of the three had
kept the eye a certain time, she took it out of the socket and passed it
to one of her sisters, whose turn it might happen to be, and who
immediately clapped it into her own head, and enjoyed a peep at the
visible world. Thus it will easily be understood that only one of the
Three Gray Women could see, while the other two were in utter darkness;
and, moreover, at the instant when the eye was passing from hand to hand,
neither of the poor old ladies was able to see a wink. I have heard of a
great many strange things, in my day, and have witnessed not a few; but
none, it seems to me, that can compare with the oddity of these Three Gray
Women, all peeping through a single eye.
</p>
<p>
So thought Perseus, likewise, and was so astonished that he almost fancied
his companion was joking with him, and that there were no such old women
in the world.
</p>
<p>
“You will soon find whether I tell the truth or no,” observed Quicksilver.
“Hark! hush! Hist! hist! There they come, now!”
</p>
<p>
Perseus looked earnestly through the dusk of the evening, and there, sure
enough, at no great distance off, he descried the Three Gray Women. The
light being so faint, he could not well make out what sort of figures they
were; only he discovered that they had long gray hair; and, as they came
nearer, he saw that two of them had but the empty socket of an eye, in the
middle of their foreheads. But, in the middle of the third sister’s
forehead, there was a very large, bright, and piercing eye, which sparkled
like a great diamond in a ring; and so penetrating did it seem to be, that
Perseus could not help thinking it must possess the gift of seeing in the
darkest midnight just as perfectly as at noonday. The sight of three
persons’ eyes was melted and collected into that single one.
</p>
<p>
Thus the three old dames got along about as comfortably, upon the whole,
as if they could all see at once. She who chanced to have the eye in her
forehead led the other two by the hands, peeping sharply about her, all
the while; insomuch that Perseus dreaded lest she should see right through
the thick clump of bushes behind which he and Quicksilver had hidden
themselves. My stars! it was positively terrible to be within reach of so
very sharp an eye!
</p>
<p>
But, before they reached the clump of bushes, one of the Three Gray Women
spoke.
</p>
<p>
“Sister! Sister Scarecrow!” cried she, “you have had the eye long enough.
It is my turn now!”
</p>
<p>
“Let me keep it a moment longer, Sister Nightmare,” answered Scarecrow. “I
thought I had a glimpse of something behind that thick bush.”
</p>
<p>
“Well, and what of that?” retorted Nightmare, peevishly. “Can’t I see into
a thick bush as easily as yourself? The eye is mine, as well as yours; and
I know the use of it as well as you, or may be a little better. I insist
upon taking a peep immediately!”
</p>
<p>
But here the third sister, whose name was Shakejoint, began to complain,
and said that it was her turn to have the eye, and that Scarecrow and
Nightmare wanted to keep it all to themselves. To end the dispute, old
Dame Scarecrow took the eye out of her forehead, and held it forth in her
hand.
</p>
<p>
“Take it, one of you,” cried she, “and quit this foolish quarrelling. For
my part, I shall be glad of a little thick darkness. Take it quickly,
however, or I must clap it into my own head again!”
</p>
<p>
Accordingly, both Nightmare and Shakejoint stretched out their hands,
groping eagerly to snatch the eye out of the hand of Scarecrow. But, being
both alike blind, they could not easily find where Scarecrow’s hand was;
and Scarecrow, being now just as much in the dark as Shakejoint and
Nightmare, could not at once meet either of their hands, in order to put
the eye into it. Thus (as you will see, with half an eye, my wise little
auditors), these good old dames had fallen into a strange perplexity. For,
though the eye shone and glistened like a star, as Scarecrow held it out,
yet the Gray Women caught not the least glimpse of its light, and were all
three in utter darkness, from too impatient a desire to see.
</p>
<p>
Quicksilver was so much tickled at beholding Shakejoint and Nightmare both
groping for the eye, and each finding fault with Scarecrow and one
another, that he could scarcely help laughing aloud.
</p>
<p>
“Now is your time!” he whispered to Perseus.
</p>
<p>
“Quick, quick! before they can clap the eye into either of their heads.
Rush out upon the old ladies, and snatch it from Scarecrow’s hand!”
</p>
<p>
In an instant, while the Three Gray Women were still scolding each other,
Perseus leaped front behind the clump of bushes, and made himself master
of the prize. The marvellous eye, as he held it in his hand, shone very
brightly, and seemed to look up into his face with a knowing air, and an
expression as if it would have winked, had it been provided with a pair of
eyelids for that purpose. But the Gray Women knew nothing of what had
happened; and, each supposing that one of her sisters was in possession of
the eye, they began their quarrel anew. At last, as Perseus did not wish
to put these respectable dames to greater inconvenience than was really
necessary, he thought it right to explain the matter. “My good ladies,”
said he, “pray do not be angry with one another. If anybody is in fault,
it is myself; for I have the honor to hold your very brilliant and
excellent eye in my own hand!”
</p>
<p>
“You! you have our eye! And who are you?” screamed the Three Gray Women,
all in a breath; for they were terribly frightened, of course, at hearing
a strange voice, and discovering that their eyesight had got into the
hands of they could not guess whom. “O, what shall we do, sisters? what
shall we do? We are all in the dark! Give us our eye! Give us our one,
precious, solitary eye! You have two of your own Give us our eye!”
</p>
<p>
“Tell them,” whispered Quicksilver to Perseus, “that they shall have back
the eye as soon as they direct you where to find the Nymphs who have the
flying slippers, the magic wallet, and the helmet of darkness.”
</p>
<p>
“My dear, good, admirable old ladies,” said Perseus, addressing the Gray
Women, “there is no occasion for putting yourselves into such a fright. I
am by no means a bad young man. You shall have back your eye, safe and
sound, and as bright as ever, the moment you tell me where to find the
Nymphs.”
</p>
<p>
“The Nymphs! Goodness me! sisters, what Nymphs does he mean?” screamed
Scarecrow. “There are a great many Nymphs, people say; some that go a
hunting in the woods, and some that live inside of trees, and some that
have a comfortable home in fountains of water. We know nothing at all
about them. We are three unfortunate old souls, that go wandering about in
the dusk, and never had but one eye amongst us, and that one you have
stolen away. O, give it back, good stranger!—whoever you are, give
it back!”
</p>
<p>
All this while the Three Gray Women were groping with their outstretched
hands, and trying their utmost to get hold of Perseus. But he took good
care to keep out of their reach.
</p>
<p>
“My respectable dames,” said he,—for his mother had taught him
always to use the greatest civility,—“I hold your eye fast in my
hand, and shall keep it safely for you, until you please to tell me where
to find these Nymphs. The Nymphs, I mean, who keep the enchanted wallet,
the flying slippers, and the what is it?—the helmet of
invisibility.”
</p>
<p>
“Mercy on us, sisters! what is the young man talking about?” exclaimed
Scarecrow, Nightmare, and Shakejoint, one to another, with great
appearance of astonishment. “A pair of flying slippers, quoth he! His
heels would quickly fly higher than his head, if he were silly enough to
put them on. And a helmet of invisibility! How could a helmet make him
invisible, unless it were big enough for him to hide under it? And an
enchanted wallet! What sort of a contrivance may that be, I wonder? No,
no, good stranger! we can tell you nothing of these marvellous things. You
have two eyes of your own, and we have but a single one amongst us three.
You can find out such wonders better than three blind old creatures, like
us.”
</p>
<p>
Perseus, hearing them talk in this way, began really to think that the
Gray Women knew nothing of the matter; and, as it grieved him to have put
them to so much trouble, he was just on the point of restoring their eye
and asking pardon for his rudeness in snatching it away. But Quicksilver
caught his hand.
</p>
<p>
“Don’t let them make a fool of you!” said he. “These Three Gray Women are
the only persons in the world that can tell you where to find the Nymphs;
and, unless you get that information, you will never succeed in cutting
off the head of Medusa with the snaky locks. Keep fast hold of the eye,
and all will go well.”
</p>
<p>
As it turned out, Quicksilver was in the right. There are but few things
that people prize so much as they do their eyesight; and the Gray Women
valued their single eye as highly as if it had been half a dozen, which
was the number they ought to have had. Finding that there was no other way
of recovering it, they at last told Perseus what he wanted to know. No
sooner had they done so, than he immediately, and with the utmost respect,
clapped the eye into the vacant socket in one of their foreheads, thanked
them for their kindness, and bade them farewell. Before the young man was
out of hearing, however, they had got into a new dispute, because he
happened to have given the eye to Scarecrow, who had already taken her
turn of it when their trouble with Perseus commenced.
</p>
<p>
<br >
</p>
<p>
It is greatly to be feared that the Three Gray Women were very much in the
habit of disturbing their mutual harmony by bickerings of this sort; which
was the more pity, as they could not conveniently do without one another,
and were evidently intended to be inseparable companions. As a general
rule, I would advise all people, whether sisters or brothers, old or
young, who chance to have but one eye amongst them, to cultivate
forbearance, and not all insist upon peeping through it at once.
</p>
<p>
Quicksilver and Perseus, in the mean time, were making the best of their
way in quest of the Nymphs. The old dames had given them such particular
directions, that they were not long in finding them out. They proved to be
very different persons from Nightmare Shakejoint, and Scarecrow; for,
instead of being old, they were young and beautiful; and instead of one
eye amongst the sisterhood, each Nymph had two exceedingly bright eyes of
her own, with which she looked very kindly at Perseus. They seemed to be
acquainted with Quicksilver; and when he told them the adventure which
Perseus had undertaken, they made no difficulty about giving him the
valuable articles that were in their custody. In the first place, they
brought out what appeared to be a small purse, made of deer-skin, and
curiously embroidered, and bade him be sure and keep it safe. This was the
magic wallet. The Nymphs next produced a pair of shoes, or slippers, or
sandals, with a nice little pair of wings at the heel of each.
</p>
<p>
“Put them on, Perseus,” said Quicksilver. “You will find yourself as
light-heeled as you can desire, for the remainder of our journey.”
</p>
<p>
So Perseus proceeded to put one of the slippers on, while he laid the
other on the ground by his side. Unexpectedly, however, this other slipper
spread its wings, fluttered up off the ground, and would probably have
flown away, if Quicksilver had not made a leap, and luckily caught it in
the air.
</p>
<p>
“Be more careful,” said he, as he gave it back to Perseus. “It would
frighten the birds, up aloft, if they should see a flying slipper amongst
them.”
</p>
<p>
When Perseus had got on both of these wonderful slippers, he was
altogether too buoyant to tread on earth. Making a step or two, lo and
behold! upward he popt into the air, high above the heads of Quicksilver
and the Nymphs, and found it very difficult to clamber down again. Winged
slippers, and all such high-flying contrivances, are seldom quite easy to
manage, until one grows a little accustomed to them. Quicksilver laughed
at his companion’s involuntary activity, and told him that he must not be
in so desperate a hurry, but must wait for the invisible helmet.
</p>
<p>
The good-natured Nymphs had the helmet, with its dark tuft of waving
plumes, all in readiness to put upon his head. And now there happened
about as wonderful an incident as anything that I have yet told you. The
instant before the helmet was put on, there stood Perseus, a beautiful
young man, with golden ringlets and rosy cheeks, the crooked sword by his
side, and the brightly polished shield upon his arm,—a figure that
seemed all made up of courage, sprightliness, and glorious light. But when
the helmet had descended over his white brow, there was no longer any
Perseus to be seen! Nothing but empty air! Even the helmet, that covered
him with its invisibility, had vanished!
</p>
<p>
“Where are you, Perseus?” asked Quicksilver.
</p>
<p>
“Why, here, to be sure!” answered Perseus, very quietly, although his
voice seemed to come out of the transparent atmosphere. “Just where I was
a moment ago. Don’t you see me?”
</p>
<p>
“No, indeed!” answered his friend. “You are hidden under the helmet. But,
if I cannot see you, neither can the Gorgons. Follow me, therefore, and we
will try your dexterity in using the winged slippers.”
</p>
<p>
With these words, Quicksilver’s cap spread its wings, as if his head were
about to fly away from his shoulders; but his whole figure rose lightly
into the air, and Perseus followed. By the time they had ascended a few
hundred feet, the young man began to feel what a delightful thing it was
to leave the dull earth so far beneath him, and to be able to flit about
like a bird.
</p>
<p>
It was now deep night. Perseus looked upward, and saw the round, bright,
silvery moon, and thought that he should desire nothing better than to
soar up thither, and spend his life there. Then he looked downward again,
and saw the earth, with its seas, and lakes, and the silver courses of its
rivers, and its snowy mountain-peaks, and the breadth of its fields, and
the dark cluster of its woods, and its cities of white marble; and, with
the moonshine sleeping over the whole scene, it was as beautiful as the
moon or any star could be. And, among other objects, he saw the island of
Seriplius, where his dear mother was. Sometimes, he and Quicksilver
approached a cloud, that, at a distance, looked as if it were made of
fleecy silver; although, when they plunged into it, they found themselves
chilled and moistened with gray mist. So swift was their flight, however,
that, in an instant, they emerged from the cloud into the moonlight again.
Once, a high-soaring eagle flew right against the invisible Perseus. The
bravest sights were the meteors, that gleamed suddenly out, as if a
bonfire had been kindled in the sky, and made the moonshine pale for as
much as a hundred miles around them.
</p>
<p>
As the two companions flew onward, Perseus fancied that he could hear the
rustle of a garment close by his side; and it was on the side opposite to
the one where he beheld Quicksilver, yet only Quicksilver was visible.
</p>
<p>
“Whose garment is this,” inquired Perseus, “that keeps rustling close
beside me, in the breeze?”
</p>
<p>
“O, it is my sister’s!” answered Quicksilver. “She is coming along with
us, as I told you she would. We could do nothing without the help of my
sister. You have no idea how wise she is. She has such eyes, too! Why, she
can see you, at this moment, just as distinctly as if you were not
invisible; and I’ll venture to say, she will be the first to discover the
Gorgons.”
</p>
<p>
By this time, in their swift voyage through the air, they had come within
sight of the great ocean, and were soon flying over it. Far beneath them,
the waves tossed themselves tumultuously in mid-sea, or rolled a white
surf-line upon the long beaches, or foamed against the rocky cliffs, with
a roar that was thunderous, in the lower world; although it became a
gentle murmur, like the voice of a baby half asleep, before it reached the
ears of Perseus. Just then a voice spoke in the air close by him. It
seemed to be a woman’s voice, and was melodious, though not exactly what
might be called sweet, but grave and mild.
</p>
<p>
“Perseus,” said the voice, “there are the Gorgons.”
</p>
<p>
“Where?” exclaimed Perseus. “I cannot see them.”
</p>
<p>
“On the shore of that island beneath you,” replied the voice. “A pebble,
dropped from your hand, would strike in the midst of them.”
</p>
<p>
“I told you she would be the first to discover them,” said Quicksilver to
Perseus. “And there they are!”
</p>
<p>
Straight downward, two or three thousand feet below him, Perseus perceived
a small island, with the sea breaking into white foam all around its rocky
shore, except on one side, where there was a beach of snowy sand. He
descended towards it, and, looking earnestly at a cluster or heap of
brightness, at the foot of a precipice of black rocks, behold, there were
the terrible Gorgons! They lay fast asleep, soothed by the thunder of the
sea; for it required a tumult that would have deafened everybody else to
lull such fierce creatures into slumber. The moonlight glistened on their
steely scales, and on their golden wings, which drooped idly over the
sand. Their brazen claws, horrible to look at, were thrust out, and
clutched the wave-beaten fragments of rock, while the sleeping Gorgons
dreamed of tearing some poor mortal all to pieces. The snakes that served
them instead of hair seemed likewise to be asleep; although, now and then,
one would writhe, and lift its head, and thrust out its forked tongue,
emitting a drowsy hiss, and then let itself subside among its sister
snakes.
</p>
<p>
The Gorgons were more like an awful, gigantic kind of insect,—immense,
golden-winged beetles, or dragon-flies, or things of that sort,—at
once ugly and beautiful,—than like anything else; only that they
were a thousand and a million times as big. And, with all this, there was
something partly human about them, too. Luckily for Perseus, their faces
were completely hidden from him by the posture in which they lay; for, had
he but looked one instant at them, he would have fallen heavily out of the
air, an image of senseless stone.
</p>
<p>
“Now,” whispered Quicksilver, as he hovered by the side of Perseus,—“now
is your time to do the deed! Be quick; for, if one of the Gorgons should
awake, you are too late!”
</p>
<p>
“Which shall I strike at?” asked Perseus, drawing his sword and descending
a little lower. “They all three look alike. All three have snaky locks.
Which of the three is Medusa?”
</p>
<p>
It must be understood that Medusa was the only one of these
dragon-monsters whose head Perseus could possibly cut off. As for the
other two, let him have the sharpest sword that ever was forged, and he
might have hacked away by the hour together, without doing there the least
harm.
</p>
<p>
“Be cautious,” said the calm voice which had before spoken to him. “One of
the Gorgons is stirring in her sleep, and is just about to turn over. That
is Medusa. Do not look at her! The sight would turn you to stone! Look at
the reflection of her face and figure in the bright mirror of your
shield.”
</p>
<p>
Perseus now understood Quicksilver’s motive for so earnestly exhorting him
to polish his shield. In its surface he could safely look at the
reflection of the Gorgon’s face. And there it was,—that terrible
countenance,—mirrored in the brightness of the shield, with the
moonlight falling over it, and displaying all its horror. The snakes,
whose venomous natures could not altogether sleep, kept twisting
themselves over the forehead. It was the fiercest and most horrible face
that ever was seen or imagined, and yet with a strange, fearful, and
savage kind of beauty in it. The eyes were closed, and the Gorgon was
still in a deep slumber; but there was an unquiet expression disturbing
her features, as if the monster was troubled with an ugly dream. She
gnashed her white tusks, and dug into the sand with her brazen claws.
</p>
<p>
The snakes, too, seemed to feel Medusa’s dream, and to be made more
restless by it. They twined themselves into tumultuous knots, writhed
fiercely, and uplifted a hundred hissing heads, without opening their
eyes.
</p>
<p>
“Now, now!” whispered Quicksilver, who was growing impatient. “Make a dash
at the monster!”
</p>
<p>
“But be calm,” said the grave, melodious voice, at the young man’s side.
“Look in your shield, as you fly downward, and take care that you do not
miss your first stroke.”
</p>
<p>
Perseus flew cautiously downward, still keeping his eyes on Medusa’s face,
as reflected in his shield. The nearer he came, the more terrible did the
snaky visage and metallic body of the monster grow. At last, when he found
himself hovering over her within arm’s length, Perseus uplifted his sword,
while, at the same instant, each separate snake upon the Gorgon’s head
stretched threateningly upward, and Medusa unclosed her eyes. But she
awoke too late. The sword was sharp; the stroke fell like a
lightning-flash; and the head of the wicked Medusa tumbled from her body!
</p>
<p>
“Admirably done!” cried Quicksilver. “Make haste, and clap the head into
your magic wallet.”
</p>
<p>
To the astonishment of Perseus, the small, embroidered wallet, which he
had hung about his neck, and which had hitherto been no bigger than a
purse, grew all at once large enough to contain Medusa’s head. As quick as
thought, he snatched it up, with the snakes still writhing upon it, and
thrust it in.
</p>
<p>
“Your task is done,” said the calm voice. “Now fly; for the other Gorgons
will do their utmost to take vengeance for Medusa’s death.”
</p>
<p>
It was, indeed, necessary to take flight; for Perseus had not done the
deed so quietly, but that the clash of his sword, and the hissing of the
snakes, and the thump of Medusa’s head as it tumbled upon the sea-beaten
sand, awoke the other two monsters. There they sat, for an instant,
sleepily rubbing their eyes with their brazen fingers, while all the
snakes on their heads reared themselves on end with surprise, and with
venomous malice against they knew not what. But when the Gorgons saw the
scaly carcass of Medusa, headless, and her golden wings all ruffled, and
half spread out on the sand, it was really awful to hear what yells and
screeches they set up. And then the snakes! They sent forth a hundred-fold
hiss, with one consent, and Medusa’s snakes answered them out of the magic
wallet.
</p>
<p>
No sooner were the Gorgons broad awake, than they hurtled upward into the
air, brandishing their brass talons, gnashing their horrible tusks, and
flapping their huge wings so wildly, that some of the golden feathers were
shaken out, and floated down upon the shore. And there, perhaps, those
very feathers he scattered, till this day. Up rose the Gorgons, as I tell
you, staring horribly about, in hopes of turning somebody to stone. Had
Perseus looked them in the face, or had he fallen into their clutches, his
poor mother would never have kissed her boy again! But he took good care
to turn his eyes another way; and, as he wore the helmet of invisibility,
the Gorgons knew not in what direction to follow him; nor did he fail to
make the best use of the winged slippers, by soaring upward a
perpendicular mile or so. At that height, when the screams of those
abominable creatures sounded faintly beneath him, he made a straight
course for the island of Seriphus, in order to carry Medusa’s head to King
Polydectes.
</p>
<p>
I have no time to tell you of several marvellous things that befell
Perseus, on his way homeward; such as his killing a hideous sea-monster,
just as it was on the point of devouring a beautiful maiden; nor how he
changed an enormous giant into a mountain of stone, merely by showing him
the head of the Gorgon. If you doubt this latter story, you may make a
voyage to Africa, some day or other, and see the very mountain, which is
still known by the ancient giant’s name.
</p>
<p>
Finally, our brave Perseus arrived at the island, where he expected to see
his dear mother. But, during his absence, the wicked king had treated
Danae so very ill, that she was compelled to make her escape, and had
taken refuge in a temple, where some good old priests were extremely kind
to her. These praiseworthy priests, and the kind-hearted fisherman, who
had first shown hospitality to Danae and little Perseus when he found them
afloat in the chest, seem to have been the only persons on the island who
cared about doing right. All the rest of the people, as well as King
Polydectes himself, were remarkably ill-behaved, and deserved no better
destiny than that which was now to happen.
</p>
<p>
Not finding his mother at home, Perseus went straight to the palace and
was immediately ushered into the presence of the king. Polydectes was by
no means rejoiced to see him; for he had felt almost certain, in his own
evil mind, that the Gorgons would have torn the poor young man to pieces,
and have eaten him up, out of the way. However, seeing him safely
returned, he put the best face he could upon the matter and asked Perseus
how he had succeeded.
</p>
<p>
“Have you performed your promise?” inquired he. “Have you brought me the
head of Medusa with the snaky locks? If not, young man, it will cost you
dear; for I must have a bridal present for the beautiful Princess
Hippodamia, and there is nothing else that she would admire so much.”
</p>
<p>
“Yes, please your Majesty,” answered Perseus, in a quiet way, as if it
were no very wonderful deed for such a young man as he to perform. “I have
brought you the Gorgon’s head, snaky locks and all!”
</p>
<p>
“Indeed! Pray let me see it,” quoth King Polydectes. “It must be a very
curious spectacle, if all that travellers tell about it be true!”
</p>
<p>
“Your Majesty is in the right,” replied Perseus. “It is really an object
that will be pretty certain to fix the regards of all who look at it. And,
if your Majesty think fit, I would suggest that a holiday be proclaimed,
and that all your Majesty’s subjects be summoned to behold this wonderful
curiosity. Few of them, I imagine, have seen a Gorgon’s head before, and
perhaps never may again!”
</p>
<p>
The king well knew that his subjects were an idle set of reprobates, and
very fond of sight-seeing, as idle persons usually are. So he took the
young man’s advice, and sent out heralds and messengers, in all
directions, to blow the trumpet at the street-corners, and in the
market-places, and wherever two roads met, and summon everybody to court.
Thither, accordingly, came a great multitude of good-for-nothing
vagabonds, all of whom, out of pure love of mischief, would have been glad
if Perseus had met with some ill-hap, in his encounter with the Gorgons.
If there were any better people in the island (as I really hope there may
have been, although the story tells nothing about any such), they stayed
quietly at home, minding their own business, and taking care of their
little children. Most of the inhabitants, at all events, ran as fast as
they could to the palace, and shoved, and pushed, and elbowed one another,
in their eagerness to get near a balcony, on which Perseus showed himself,
holding the embroidered wallet in his hand.
</p>
<p>
On a platform, within full view of the balcony, sat the mighty King
Polydectes, amid his evil counsellors, and with his flattering courtiers
in a semicircle round about him. Monarch, counsellors, courtiers, and
subjects, all gazed eagerly towards Perseus.
</p>
<p>
“Show us the head! Show us the head!” shouted the people; and there was a
fierceness in their cry as if they would tear Perseus to pieces, unless he
should satisfy them with what he had to show. “Show us the head of Medusa
with the snaky locks!”
</p>
<p>
A feeling of sorrow and pity came over the youthful Perseus.
</p>
<p>
“O King Polydectes,” cried he, “and ye many people, I am very loath to
show you the Gorgon’s head!”
</p>
<p>
“Ah, the villain and coward!” yelled the people, more fiercely than
before. “He is making game of us! He has no Gorgon’s head! Show us the
head, if you have it, or we will take your own head for a football!”
</p>
<p>
The evil counsellors whispered bad advice in the king’s ear; the courtiers
murmured, with one consent, that Perseus had shown disrespect to their
royal lord and master; and the great King Polydectes himself waved his
hand, and ordered him, with the stern, deep voice of authority, on his
peril, to produce the bead.
</p>
<p>
“Show me the Gorgon’s head, or I will cut off your own!”
</p>
<p>
And Perseus sighed.
</p>
<p>
“This instant,” repeated Polydectes, “or you die!”
</p>
<p>
“Behold it, then!” cried Perseus, in a voice like the blast of a trumpet.
</p>
<p>
And, suddenly holding up the head, not an eyelid had time to wink before
the wicked King Polydectes, his evil counsellors, and all his fierce
subjects were no longer anything but the mere images of a monarch and his
people. They were all fixed, forever, in the look and attitude of that
moment! At the first glimpse of the terrible head of Medusa, they whitened
into marble! And Perseus thrust the head back into his wallet, and went to
tell his dear mother that she need no longer be afraid of the wicked King
Polydectes.
</p>
<p>
<br ><br ><br > <a id="after"></a>
</p>
<h3>
TANGLEWOOD PORCH.
</h3>
<h4>
AFTER THE STORY.
</h4>
<p>
“Is not that a very fine story?” asked Eustace.
</p>
<p>
“O yes, yes!” cried Cowslip, clapping her hands. “And those funny old
women, with only one eye amongst them! I never heard of anything so
strange.”
</p>
<p>
“As to their one tooth, which they shifted about,” observed Primrose,
“there was nothing so very wonderful in that. I suppose it was a false
tooth. But think of your turning Mercury into Quicksilver, and talking
about his sister! You are too ridiculous!”
</p>
<p>
“And was she not his sister?” asked Eustace Bright. “If I had thought of
it sooner, I would have described her as a maiden lady, who kept a pet
owl!”
</p>
<p>
“Well, at any rate,” said Primrose, “your story seems to have driven away
the mist.”
</p>
<p>
And, indeed, while the tale was going forward, the vapors had been quite
exhaled from the landscape. A scene was now disclosed which the spectators
might almost fancy as having been created since they had last looked in
the direction where it lay. About half a mile distant, in the lap of the
valley, now appeared a beautiful lake, which reflected a perfect image of
its own wooded banks, and of the summits of the more distant hills. It
gleamed in glassy tranquillity, without the trace of a winged breeze on
any part of its bosom. Beyond its farther shore was Monument Mountain, in
a recumbent position, stretching almost across the valley. Eustace Bright
compared it to a huge, headless sphinx, wrapped in a Persian shawl; and,
indeed, so rich and diversified was the autumnal foliage of its woods,
that the simile of the shawl was by no means too high-colored for the
reality. In the lower ground, between Tanglewood and the lake, the clumps
of trees and borders of woodland were chiefly golden-leaved or dusky
brown, as having suffered more from frost than the foliage on the
hillsides.
</p>
<p>
Over all this scene there was a genial sunshine, intermingled with a
slight haze, which made it unspeakably soft and tender. O, what a day of
Indian summer was it going to be! The children snatched their baskets, and
set forth, with hop, skip, and jump, and all sorts of frisks and gambols;
while Cousin Eustace proved his fitness to preside over the party, by
outdoing all their antics, and performing several new capers, which none
of them could ever hope to imitate. Behind went a good old dog, whose name
was Ben. He was one of the most respectable and kind-hearted of
quadrupeds, and probably felt it to be his duty not to trust the children
away from their parents without some better guardian than this
feather-brained Eustace Bright.
</p>
<p>
<br ><br ><br ><br >
</p>
<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 9255 ***</div>
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