How Prometheus Stole Fire

The hero featured here has inspired many a playwright, artist and film-maker over time, from the ancient Greek tragedy penned by Aeschylus centuries ago to Hollywood’s Prometheus.

Prometheus was one of the Titans, a race of powerful gods who inhabited the earth before man.

His father had fought Zeus, the king of the gods, and hence they had been banished to lowly ground—the earth—while all the other gods lived upon Mount Olympus.

Along with his brother Epimetheus, he had been allotted the task of creating man and providing him and all the animals with everything that was necessary for their survival and preservation.

Epimetheus set about his work, bestowing upon various animals courage, swiftness, wisdom, wings to some, claws to some, a shell or a thick hide for others. He kept on giving away all the valued gifts and when it finally came to man, he found that he had run out! ‘Oh brother, I have nothing left to give this poor creature that you have so lovingly created,’ he lamented.

Prometheus had created man from the earth, which still contained some divine material as it had so recently been parted from the heavens. He had kneaded the earth with water and made man in the image of the gods.

Prometheus watched his creations shivering in the cold and huddling in caves, fearful of wild animals that could easily hunt them down with their new-found powers. His heart was filled with pity. An idea came to him. ‘Don’t worry, dear Epimetheus, I will get them a divine gift from Mount Olympus!’

‘Are you sure?’ Epimetheus asked as worry creased his brow. He knew they were no match for the powerful Zeus and didn’t want more trouble.

‘If only they could get some fire, it would keep them warm from the cold. They could cook their food and, besides, make weapons with it to ward off the dangerous animals that threaten to devour them. I will ask Zeus himself!’ And Prometheus left for Olympus. There, he went to Zeus with his request. Zeus, of course, would not hear of it.

‘Please grant them the gift of fire, at least in the winter so they won’t die of cold,’ he pleaded, explaining how the humans had got a raw deal when it came to divine gifts.

‘No,’ thundered Zeus. ‘I can’t give them that! Fire will make them powerful, don’t you see? Fire is a dangerous tool. And they are poor and ignorant. There is no saying what they will do with it. We, on Mount Olympus, do not want any more threats.’ He looked at Prometheus meaningfully.

Prometheus did not say a word. Quietly, he made his way down to the seashore. As he walked on the soft sands, wondering how he could help mankind, he saw a tall stalk of fennel. He broke it and found in the hollow a dry, soft substance that could be lit and could stay alight for a long time. Armed with the stalk, he quietly stole back up to Mount Olympus and into Zeus’s own chambers. He took a spark from Zeus’s thunderbolt and lit the stalk. Quickly hiding the fire in the hollow of the stalk, he made his way back to earth.

Gathering the poor folk shivering in the cold, he taught them how to use the fire. One wintry evening, as Zeus looked down, he saw cheerful little fires lighting up earth below.

‘Prometheus! You shall suffer for this. How dare you defy me?’ thundered Zeus, once again. ‘You shall pay for this!’

An angry Zeus sent Force and Violence, two of his henchmen, to seize Prometheus. He did not resist when they led him to the top of the Caucasus Mountains, where they bound him to a rock with unbreakable adamantine chains. Adamantine is a very hard metal, harder than iron even. They obviously didn’t want to take chances with the strong Titan.

As he lay atop the rock, an eagle swooped down and began eating his liver. In the night, the liver grew back again and the eagle returned the next day to feast on it. This went on every day for a thousand years or more. It was a cruel fate but no one dared say a word.

It was Zeus himself, perhaps tired of Prometheus’s stoicism, who offered a way out. He sent Hermes, the messenger god, with a request. Prometheus had the gift of seeing into the future—his very name meant forethought—and Zeus wanted to know who would usurp his throne. If Prometheus would reveal that, he would be set free.

But Prometheus chose to remain silent and Hermes had to return without an answer. The Titan is a tough one, thought Zeus. Now Zeus was not so bad after all. His anger had cooled somewhat and he offered another olive branch. Okay, I will set him free if he can fulfil two conditions. He sent word again; one condition was that Prometheus would be released if he could find another immortal like himself who would be willing to give up his life. Two, a mortal would have to kill the liver-eating eagle to end his torment.

Prometheus, again, did not say a word. He did not expect or seek help. If this was to be his fate, so be it. He had no regrets. But fortunately for him, there was someone willing to take his place.

A centaur, a creature who was half-man, half-horse, by the name of Chiron, who happened to be a mentor to many a Greek hero, was accidently wounded by a poisoned arrow of Heracles. The pain of the wound inflicted by the arrow was unbearable as it was coated with the blood of the monster Hydra. Now Chiron was an immortal and knew that the searing pain would never cease. Better the comfort of dying than go through eternity with this unbearable wound, he thought, and offered to give up his life for Prometheus.

As for the second condition, Heracles, the half-mortal son of Zeus, took up the challenge. He was already full of remorse at having wounded his gentle teacher, Chiron and, besides, he loved to champion the cause of the just and the powerless. So Chiron gave up his immortality and his form. In turn, he was honoured in the heavens with the constellation Centaurus. Meanwhile, Heracles, with his quiver full of poisoned arrows, made his way to the Caucasus. On finding the eagle devouring his daily meal of Prometheus’s liver, Heracles shot one of his arrows at the bird and killed it.

Prometheus was free at last and Zeus invited him back to Mount Olympus, the seat of the gods. Of course, he never again dared to ask Prometheus the course of his future but made him wear a ring from the rock of the Caucasus, a symbol of his ordeal. Ever since, grateful humankind has worn rings in honour of the Titan.