of all men. Hercules was no dead hero, to be remembered only as a victor
over monsters of the past--harmless now as slain. He was the perpetual
type and mirror of heroism, and its present and living aid against every
ravenous form of human trial and pain.

5. But, if we seek to know more than this and to ascertain the manner in
which the story first crystallized into its shape, we shall find
ourselves led back generally to one or other of two sources--either to
actual historical events, represented by the fancy under figures
personifying them; or else to natural phenomena similarly endowed with
life by the imaginative power usually more or less under the influence of
terror. The historical myths we must leave the masters of history to
follow; they, and the events they record, being yet involved in great,
though attractive and penetrable, mystery. But the stars, and hills, and
storms are with us now, as they were with others of old; and it only
needs that we look at them with the earnestness of those childish eyes to
understand the first words spoken of them by the children of men, and
then, in all the most beautiful and enduring myths, we shall find, not
only a literal story of a real person, not only a parallel imagery of
moral principle, but an underlying worship of natural phenomena, out of
which both have sprung, and in which both forever remain rooted. Thus,
from the real sun, rising and setting,--from the real atmosphere, calm in
its dominion of unfading blue, and fierce in its descent of tempest,--the
Greek forms first the idea of two entirely personal and corporal gods,
whose limbs are clothes in divine flesh, and whose brows are crowned with
divine beauty; yet so real that the quiver rattles at their shoulder, and
the chariot bends beneath their weight. And, on the other hand,
collaterally with these corporeal images, and never for one instant
separated from them, he conceives also two omnipresent spiritual
influences, as the sun, with a constant fire, whatever in humanity is