Learn English Through Story: An audio reading of Prometheus and Pandora.
Audio stories are a great way to help you perfect your English or to become more fluent.
This reading of Prometheus and Pandora is from A Book of Myths by Jean Lang, published
in 1914.
Those who are interested in watching the mental development of a child must have noted that
when the baby has learned to speak even a little, it begins to show its growing intelligence
by asking questions.
“What is this?” it would seem at first to ask with regard to simple things that to
it are still mysteries.
Soon it arrives at the more far-reaching inquiries—“Why is this so?”
“How did this happen?”
And as the child’s mental growth continues, the painstaking and conscientious parent or
guardian is many times faced by questions which lack of knowledge, or a sensitive honesty,
prevents him from answering either with assurance or with ingenuity.
As with the child, so it has ever been with the human race.
Man has always come into the world asking “How?”
“Why?”
“What?” and so the Hebrew, the Greek, the Maori, the Australian aboriginal, the
Norseman—in a word, each race of mankind—has formed for itself an explanation of existence,
an answer to the questions of the groping child-mind—“Who made the world?”
“What is God?”
“What made a God think of fire and air and water?”
“Why am I, I?”
Into the explanation of creation and existence given by the Greeks come the stories of Prometheus
and of Pandora.
The world, as first it was, to the Greeks was such a world as the one of which we read
in the Book of Genesis—“without form, and void.”
It was a sunless world in which land, air, and sea were mixed up together, and over which
reigned a deity called Chaos.
With him ruled the goddess of Night and their son was Erebus, god of Darkness.
When the two beautiful children of Erebus, Light and Day, had flooded formless space
with their radiance, Eros, the god of Love, was born, and Light and Day and Love, working
together, turned discord into harmony and made the earth, the sea, and the sky into
one perfect whole.
A giant race, a race of Titans, in time populated this newly-made earth, and of these one of
the mightiest was Prometheus.
To him, and to his brother Epimetheus, was entrusted by Eros the distribution of the
gifts of faculties and of instincts to all the living creatures in the world, and the
task of making a creature lower than the gods, something less great than the Titans, yet
in knowledge and in understanding infinitely higher than the beasts and birds and fishes.
At the hands of the Titan brothers, birds, beasts, and fishes had fared handsomely.
They were Titanic in their generosity, and so prodigal had they been in their gifts that
when they would fain have carried out the commands of Eros they found that nothing was
left for the equipment of this being, to be called Man.
Yet, nothing daunted, Prometheus took some clay from the ground at his feet, moistened
it with water, and fashioned it into [Pg 3]an image, in form like the gods.
Into its nostrils Eros breathed the spirit of life, Pallas Athené endowed it with a
soul, and the first man looked wonderingly round on the earth that was to be his heritage.
Prometheus, proud of the beautiful thing of his own creation, would fain have given Man
a worthy gift, but no gift remained for him.
He was naked, unprotected, more helpless than any of the beasts of the field, more to be
pitied than any of them in that he had a soul to suffer.
Surely Zeus, the All Powerful, ruler of Olympus, would have compassion on Man?
But Prometheus looked to Zeus in vain; compassion he had none.
Then, in infinite pity, Prometheus bethought himself of a power belonging to the gods alone
and unshared by any living creature on the earth.
“We shall give Fire to the Man whom we have made,” he said to Epimetheus.
To Epimetheus this seemed an impossibility, but to Prometheus nothing was impossible.
He bided his time and, unseen by the gods, he made his way into Olympus, lighted a hollow
torch with a spark from the chariot of the Sun and hastened back to earth with this royal
gift to Man.
Assuredly no other gift could have brought him more completely the empire that has since
been his.
No longer did he tremble and cower in the darkness of caves when Zeus hurled his lightnings
across the sky.
No more did he dread the animals that hunted him and drove him in terror before them.
Armed with fire, the beasts became his vassals.
With fire he forged weapons, defied the frost and cold, coined [Pg 4]money, made implements
for tillage, introduced the arts, and was able to destroy as well as to create.
From his throne on Olympus, Zeus looked down on the earth and saw, with wonder, airy columns
of blue-grey smoke that curled upwards to the sky.
He watched more closely, and realized with terrible wrath that the moving flowers of
red and gold that he saw in that land that the Titans shared with men, came from fire,
that had hitherto been the gods’ own sacred power.
Speedily he assembled a council of the gods to mete out to Prometheus a punishment fit
for the blasphemous daring of his crime.
This council decided at length to create a thing that should for evermore charm the souls
and hearts of men, and yet, for evermore, be man’s undoing.
To Vulcan, god of fire, whose province Prometheus had insulted, was given the work of fashioning
out of clay and water the creature by which the honor of the gods was to be avenged.
“The lame Vulcan,” says Hesiod, poet of Greek mythology, “formed out of the earth
an image resembling a chaste virgin.
Pallas Athené, of the blue eyes, hastened to ornament her and to robe her in a white
tunic.
She dressed on the crown of her head a long veil, skillfully fashioned and admirable to
see; she crowned her forehead with graceful garlands of newly-opened flowers and a golden
diadem that the lame Vulcan, the illustrious god, had made with his own hands to please
the puissant Jove.
On this crown Vulcan had chiseled the innumerable animals that the continents and the sea nourish
in their bosoms, all endowed with a marvelous grace and apparently alive.
When he had finally completed, instead of some useful work, this illustrious masterpiece,
he brought into the assembly this virgin, proud of the ornaments with which she had
been decked by the blue-eyed goddess, daughter of a powerful sire.”
To this beautiful creature, destined by the gods to be man’s destroyer, each of them
gave a gift.
From Aphrodite she got beauty, from Apollo music, from Hermes the gift of a winning tongue.
And when all that great company in Olympus had bestowed their gifts, they named the woman
Pandora—“Gifted by all the Gods.”
Thus equipped for victory, Pandora was led by Hermes to the world that was thenceforward
to be her home.
As a gift from the gods she was presented to Prometheus.
But Prometheus, gazing in wonder at the violet blue eyes bestowed by Aphrodite, that looked
wonderingly back into his own as if they were indeed as innocent as two violets wet with
the morning dew, hardened his great heart, and would have none of her.
As a hero—a worthy descendant of Titans—said in later years,—“I fear the Greeks, even
when they bring gifts.”
And Prometheus, the greatly-daring, knowing that he merited the anger of the gods, saw
treachery in a gift outwardly so perfect.
Not only would he not accept this exquisite creature for his own, but he hastened to caution
his brother also to refuse her.
But well were they named Prometheus (Forethought) and Epimetheus (Afterthought).
For Epimetheus it was enough to look at this peerless woman, sent from the gods, for him
to love her and to believe in her utterly.
She was the fairest thing on earth, [Pg 6]worthy indeed of the deathless gods who had created
her.
Perfect, too, was the happiness that she brought with her to Epimetheus.
Before her coming, as he well knew now, the fair world had been incomplete.
Since she came the fragrant flowers had grown more sweet for him, the song of the birds
more full of melody.
He found new life in Pandora and marveled how his brother could ever have fancied that
she could bring to the world aught but peace and joyousness.
Now when the gods had entrusted to the Titan brothers the endowment of all living things
upon the earth, they had been careful to withhold everything that might bring into the world
pain, sickness, anxiety, bitterness of heart, remorse, or soul-crushing sorrow.
All these hurtful things were imprisoned in a coffer which was given into the care of
the trusty Epimetheus.
To Pandora the world into which she came was all fresh, all new, quite full of unexpected
joys and delightful surprises.
It was a world of mystery, but mystery of which her great, adoring, simple Titan held
the golden key.
When she saw the coffer which never was opened, what then more natural than that she should
ask Epimetheus what it contained?
But the contents were known only to the gods.
Epimetheus was unable to answer.
Day by day, the curiosity of Pandora increased.
To her the gods had never given anything but good.
Surely there must be here gifts more precious still.
What if the Olympians had destined her to be the one to open the casket, and had sent
her to earth in order that she might bestow on this dear world, on the men who lived on
it, and on her own magnificent Titan, happiness and blessings which only the minds of gods
could have conceived?
Thus did there come a day when Pandora, unconscious instrument in the hands of a vengeful Olympian,
in all faith, and with the courage that is born of faith and of love, opened the lid
of the prison-house of evil.
And as from coffers in the old Egyptian tombs, the live plague can still rush forth and slay,
the long-imprisoned evils rushed forth upon the fair earth and on the human beings who
lived on it—malignant, ruthless, fierce, treacherous, and cruel—poisoning, slaying,
devouring.
Plague and pestilence and murder, envy and malice and revenge and all viciousness—an
ugly wolf-pack indeed was that one let loose by Pandora.
Terror, doubt, misery, had all rushed straightway to attack her heart, while the evils of which
she had never dreamed stung mind and soul into dismay and horror, when, by hastily shutting
the lid of the coffer, she tried to undo the evil she had done.
And lo, she found that the gods had imprisoned one good gift only in this Inferno of horrors
and of ugliness.
In the world there had never been any need of Hope.
What work was there for Hope to do where all was perfect, and where each creature possessed
the desire of body and of heart?
Therefore Hope was thrust into the chest that held the evils, a star in a black night, a
lily growing on a dung-heap.
And as Pandora, white-lipped and trembling, looked into the otherwise empty box, courage
came back to her heart, and Epimetheus let fall to his side the arm that would have slain
the woman of his love because there came to him, like a draught of wine to a warrior spent
in [Pg 8]battle, an imperial vision of the sons of men through all the aeons to come,
combating all evils of body and of soul, going on conquering and to conquer.
Thus, saved by Hope, the Titan and the woman faced the future, and for them the vengeance
of the gods was stayed.
Upon the earth, and on the children of men who were as gods in their knowledge and mastery
of the force of fire, Jupiter had had his revenge.
For Prometheus he reserved another punishment.
He, the greatly-daring, once the dear friend and companion of Zeus himself, was chained
to a rock on Mount Caucasus by the vindictive deity.
There, on a dizzy height, his body thrust against the sun-baked rock, Prometheus had
to endure the torment of having a foul-beaked vulture tear out his liver, as though he were
a piece of carrion lying on the mountain side.
All day, while the sun mercilessly smote him and the blue sky turned from red to black
before his pain-racked eyes, the torture went on.
Each night, when the filthy bird of prey that worked the will of the gods spread its dark
wings and flew back to its eyrie, the Titan endured the cruel mercy of having his body
grow whole once more.
But with daybreak there came again the silent shadow, [Pg 9]the smell of the unclean thing,
and again with fierce beak and talons the vulture greedily began its work.
Thirty thousand years was the time of his sentence, and yet Prometheus knew that at
any moment he could have brought his torment to an end.
A secret was his—a mighty secret, the revelation of which would have brought him the mercy
of Zeus and have reinstated him in the favor of the all-powerful god.
Yet did he prefer to endure his agonies rather than to free himself by bowing to the desires
of a tyrant who had caused Man to be made, yet denied to Man those gifts that made him
nobler than the beasts and raised him almost to the heights of the Olympians.
Thus for him the weary centuries dragged by—in suffering that knew no respite—in endurance
that the gods might have ended.
Prometheus had brought an imperial gift to the men that he had made, and imperially he
paid the penalty.