Chapter III
Calypso allows Ulysses to go home—Poseidon sends a storm—Ulysses is wrecked upon the Island of Scheria
Athene was busy preparing Ulysses’ return. Hermes, messenger of the gods, bound on the golden sandals which enabled him to soar like a bird through the air, took up his magic serpent staff with which he could both kill and restore people to life, and flew swiftly away across the sea. He soon stood upon Calypso’s distant island, enchanted with the lovely dwelling so charmingly nestling among the trees. Singing birds had made their nests in the dark recesses of the foliage, and the entrance to the grotto was framed in vines from which hung bunches of purple grapes. Round about stretched rich meadows intersected by gleaming brooks, and many-colored flowers peeped out of the rich verdure.
Hermes paused to admire the lovely spot, then entered the grotto to seek Ulysses. The poor fellow who could find no peace of mind in this beautiful isle, and who was vexed by the advances of the goddess, used to go down every day and seat himself beside the surf to gaze out over the dark waters in the direction in which his beloved fatherland lay. The nymph, however, sat at her loom weaving herself a garment with a golden shuttle and singing gayly at her work. She recognized Hermes at once and was surprised to see him. He delivered to her the strict command of Jupiter to release Ulysses, as the gods had determined upon his return. This frightened the goddess, and she began to complain of the jealousy and cruelty of the gods. She promised to obey, however, through fear of the anger and vengeance of Jupiter.
In the meanwhile Hermes had been hospitably entertained, for even the gods regale one another, though they do not eat mortal food. Their food is called ambrosia and they drink a divine liquid which the poets call nectar. After feasting, Hermes repeated the message and left the island.
When Calypso had spent her grief in a flood of tears she went out to seek Ulysses. She found him sitting pensively on the shore. “My dear friend,” she said, “thou must not pass thy life here in melancholy and grieving. I will have compassion on thee and let thee go. But thou must build a craft for thyself. Go to the forest, select trees, cut and trim them with the axe which I shall give thee, and fashion for thyself a strong raft. I can give thee no rowers, but I will plentifully provide thee with food, drink, and clothes, and will give thee a gentle wind to bear thee out into the sea. If the gods are willing thou shalt soon reach thy dear native land in safety.”
Ulysses sprang up. Her words gave him a thrill of joyful surprise. He could scarcely believe his good fortune. “Swear to me,” he cried hastily, “that thou speakest the truth and art not contriving fresh affliction for me!” The goddess smiled, and to please him swore the most terrible oath of the gods, by the earth, the heavens, and the river Styx, and now at last the hero believed her.
The following morning he hastened into the forest, and after four days of incessant labor his raft was finished and furnished with mast, rudder, and yard-arms. Calypso supplied the sail and filled the raft with skins and baskets of sweet water, wine, and delicious food, and on the fifth day she accompanied him to the beach and he joyfully embarked. A gentle breeze filled his sail and he steered boldly across the boundless waters, guided by the sun by day and the stars by night. He journeyed swiftly for seventeen days, happy in the thought that he was approaching nearer to his beloved wife and native land. But lo, on the eighteenth day, when in sight of the island of Corfu, Poseidon caught sight of the bold man and his anger blazed up anew. “Aha!” said he, “the gods have doubtless taken him under their protection while I have been away, but in spite of this he shall suffer disaster and sorrow enough before he reach the land which is appointed for his refuge.”
The angry words had scarcely been spoken before dark clouds began to gather at his bidding. He dipped his trident into the sea and it was disturbed to its depths. Then he called upon the winds to come out of their caves and strive together, and dark night descended upon the waters. Ulysses trembled. He was alone upon the broad ocean. Land had disappeared, and as far as the eye could see there were only the dark waves which rose in their might, then dashed upon him, carrying him first heavenwards, then down into the depths of an abyss. Clinging desperately to his raft, he was tossed to and fro. A terrific blast swept away mast and sail and then came a great wave, like a mountain, which broke over the raft and submerged it. Ulysses lost his hold, but when he arose he saw it floating near him and managed to climb upon it, thus escaping certain death. But the storm still raged and there seemed no hope of rescue.
However, he was destined to be saved. Leucothea, the sea goddess, discovered him in the midst of the angry waves and took pity on him. She swung herself up out of the sea on to the raft and seated herself. “Poor man,” said she, “thou must surely have sorely offended Poseidon, but he shall not destroy thee. Thou shalt be cast on the shores of Scheria. Take this girdle and tie it about thee; then cast off thy heavy garments, leave thy float, and save thyself by swimming. The girdle will bear thee safely to the shore, but when thou art once there, do not fail to throw it behind thee into the sea.”
With these words she disappeared in the waters. Ulysses was still in doubt, for he feared the vision was a malicious deception of Poseidon’s. He would not leave the raft so long as it held together, but he kept the girdle to try its power in case of need.
He did not have long to wait, for a sudden shower of water dashed the raft in pieces. The logs separated and the poor sailor fell between them into the sea. It was now life or death. He swam toward the largest piece of the raft, caught hold of it, and swung himself astride the log like a horseman, holding fast by his knees. Riding thus, he drew off his heavy tunic and threw it into the sea, tied on the girdle, and sprang confidently into the water to try his luck. As he was struggling in the water Poseidon saw him and said: “This time thou mayst escape death, but I hope that thou wilt not soon forget the horrors of this day.”
Poseidon departed and by degrees the wild waves subsided. The terrible storm had lasted two days and two nights, and in all this time poor Ulysses had had nothing to eat or drink. He kept on swimming, sustained by the divine girdle. He was again filled with hope and joy when he saw the waves subsiding and the rocky coast of Scheria (or Corfu) close before him. But he was not yet safe, for the surf kept dashing him back from the steep walls of rock. This was worse than his battle with the waves; and with torn hands he was obliged to swim nearly around the island before he could find a landing place.
At length he came to a spot where a little island stream flowed into the sea. The beach was low and it was protected from the winds. Ulysses took courage, and praying to the divinity of the stream he said: “Hear me, oh ruler, whoever thou art, and take pity on me! Thou seest I have escaped Poseidon’s wrath, and now I put myself under thy protection.”
The river god heard him, and Ulysses soon sank upon his knees on the green grass and kissed the blessed earth. But now his strength was spent and he sank into a state of deep unconsciousness. Voice and breath left him; he was utterly exhausted.
As soon as he recovered himself he gratefully remembered Leucothea and her command. He arose, unbound the wet girdle, and with averted face cast it into the sea. Then fearfully and timidly he began to explore the island. Night was approaching and no one was to be seen. Naked as he was, where should he find shelter? It was damp and cold on the beach, and in the wood which he saw before him there might be savage animals. Still he walked on toward it and discovered a few wild olive trees whose thick boughs made a welcome shelter against sun, rain, and wind. On the ground lay a great mass of dry leaves which he heaped together and then crept under, his body hidden by the foliage. A deep sleep fell upon him in his bed of leaves, and for a time his hardships were forgotten.
Chapter IV
Nausicaa
Scheria was inhabited by a peaceful people, who cared more for commerce and navigation than for agriculture and the chase. They had built a town near the harbor, and had dockyards where busy workmen were to be seen building ships. Order, morality, and prosperity reigned and the people were ruled by gentle King Alcinous who had a magnificent palace in the city, where the nobles gathered daily to offer sacrifice and to feast with their king.
While the weary Ulysses was sleeping his friend Athene was planning a means of making him acquainted with the foremost people of the island. The king had a young and pretty daughter named Nausicaa, who was dreaming sweetly one morning when Athene appeared in her dreams in the form of one of her youthful companions and began to scold her. “Lazy girl! when wilt thou think of washing the fine garments which are lying soiled about the house? Thou wilt soon be a bride, and what if thy garments are not in order? Arise quickly! Let thy father provide thee with a cart and donkeys to take us to the washing place. I will go with thee, and we will take our maidens and wash and dry so that father and mother shall be delighted with our industry.”
Nausicaa, upon awaking, determined to obey the admonition. She begged her father for the cart and, when it was ready, filled it with the soiled garments. Her mother provided victuals and a skin of wine, and when all was ready the pretty washer maiden seated herself on the cart, took up the reins and whip, and drove out of the city, followed by her companions. The washing place was beside a clear stream whose waters filled little canals and basins which had been excavated for the purpose. The clothes were thrown into one of these basins, the maidens undressed and sprang into the water, where they trod the garments with their feet. After being thus cleansed the clothes were spread out to dry on a beach of clean pebbles by the side of the stream.
The maidens then bathed, anointed themselves with oil, and opened the baskets and wine skin to enjoy an out-of-door breakfast. Next they seated themselves in a circle. Nausicaa began to sing and the maidens to dance and amuse themselves playing ball. When they had had enough of the games they gathered up the garments, folded them neatly, and packed them away in the cart, harnessed the donkeys, and made ready to depart. Before she mounted, the sportive Nausicaa threw the ball once more toward one of her companions. But it fell into the river far away, making the frolicsome girls clap their hands and shriek with laughter, which awoke the echoes along the shore. And behold Athene had so arranged that these gay sounds should awaken the snoring Ulysses. He raised himself, listening, rubbing his eyes and brushing the leaves from his hair and beard.
“Those are human voices,” he thought; “but alas, what kind of people may they be? Perchance rough barbarians who will not understand my language and know nothing of the gods or of hospitality. But stay—are they not the voices of laughing maidens? I will come out and take a look at them.”
He crawled out of the thicket, shook off the dry leaves, and as he was stark naked, broke off a thick bough with which to cover himself. Thus he appeared like some wild forest monster. The maidens, who saw him coming from a distance, were afraid, cried out, and ran away. But Nausicaa was an intrepid girl, and Athene secretly encouraged her. She stood still and quietly waited for the man to approach.
He came nearer, but did not presume to embrace her knees after the manner of a petitioner, but made plea at a respectful distance. “Humbly I approach thee, goddess or virgin, for I know not who thou art,” said he. “Thy stature and thy splendid form tell me that if a goddess thou must be Artemis. Art thou a mortal maiden, then are thy parents and thy brethren fortunate; for truly their hearts must leap within them to see thee in the dance. But happier than all others I count the man from whose hands thy father shall accept the suitor’s gifts and who shall take thee to his house, a bride. Truly I have never seen a human creature so like a slender palm tree. Yesterday I was cast by the sea upon this coast. I know it not, and no one here knows me. I do not presume, noble maiden, to embrace thy knees, but I beg thee have compassion on me; for after unspeakable trials thou art the first person whom I have met. Show me the city where the men of this land live, and give me some rags to cover myself. May the gods reward thee a thousand times. May they give thee all that thy heart desires, a husband, a house, and blessed harmony of life. For certainly nothing is so desirable as that husband and wife shall live in peace and united in tender love.”
This speech pleased pretty Nausicaa and she pitied the stranger. She told him her name and all about her father and mother and promised him hospitality. Then she recalled her maidens, commanded them to conduct the guest to the bath and to refresh him with food and drink. But the man was too fearsome a sight. One pushed forward the other until they at last plucked up heart and led Ulysses to the river. Nausicaa sent him some of the freshly washed clothes and the remains of their oil. The maidens placed all these things beside the stream and withdrew while Ulysses made his toilet.
The bath was very necessary, for he was covered with mud from head to foot, but after it he was like one new born. Graced with the new garments he appeared in renewed youth amongst the maidens, who were astonished at his glowing countenance. He seemed to have grown taller and handsomer. His matted hair now fell in shining ringlets over his forehead and neck, and his whole appearance gave such an impression of nobility and charm that Nausicaa could not help a secret wish that he might remain in Scheria and take her to wife.
The maidens placed before him what was left of the food and wine, and truly the poor man had fasted long enough. When he had eaten the company prepared to return. Nausicaa mounted her cart, and the maidens followed her on foot. As long as the road led through the fields Ulysses accompanied them, but when they neared the city Nausicaa bade him wait in a poplar grove until she should reach home; then he was to follow and appear at her father’s house.
Thus she wished to avoid gossip so that no one might say: “Ah, see what a stately stranger Nausicaa has picked out for herself. She wishes him for her husband. She can really not wait until she is wooed. Of course it is better to choose a stranger, for the noble youths among our own people are certainly not good enough for her.” “No, stranger, not thus shall they speak,” she added, blushing. “I have myself often found fault with girls who have been seen with a man without the knowledge of their parents and before the nuptials were celebrated.”
Nausicaa gave Ulysses one more direction. When he entered the royal hall he was first to embrace the knees of the queen and to make his plea for protection to her. If she favored him then he might hope to see his home again. Not until then was he to approach the king.
Ulysses carefully noted all these directions and remained in the grove until he was sure the maidens had arrived at their destination. Meanwhile he prayed to his protector, Athene, that she might grant that he find pity and favor with the men of this unknown people.
Chapter V
Ulysses visits the King of the Phæacians
The sun had set and darkness had fallen when the hero set out for the city of the Phæacians. As soon as he came near the first houses, his friend Athene met him disguised as a young girl returning with a pitcher of water from the well.
“Daughter, canst thou show me the way to the palace of Alcinous, thy king?” Ulysses addressed her. “I am come from a distant country and am a stranger here.”
“Very willingly, good father, will I show thee the house,” answered the friendly girl. “The king lives very near my father. Come with me and I will guide thee that thou needst not inquire of another. People are not overfriendly to strangers here.”
Ulysses thanked the maiden and followed her unseen by anyone. He was astonished at the great market place and harbor, the large ships and high walls. When they had been walking for a while the girl stopped and said: “See, good father, here is the king’s house. Thou wilt find the princes at their meal. Walk boldly in and fear nothing, for a bold front is always successful. But I must tell thee one thing more. When thou enterest thou shalt go straight to the queen, Arete. She is very wise and is honored far and wide above all women. The king also reverences her and she rules everything, judging even the men’s quarrels with wisdom. She is greeted everywhere by old and young like a goddess. If she is gracious to thee, then mayest thou hope to return to thy native land.”
With these words Athene left him, and Ulysses went into the courtyard of the castle and paused in amazement on the threshold of the house. Everything that he saw was very beautiful. The walls looked like bronze, the doorway like silver, and the ring on the gate was of gold. At the back of the open hall were rows of seats disposed against the walls, on which sat the nobles at the banquet. Beside them stood beautifully clothed youths holding torches to light the feast. Fifty maidens served in the palace, some of them grinding grain on the handmills, others embroidering or spinning; for the women of the Phæacians were as famous for their wonderful weaving as the men were as navigators.
When the hero entered the king’s hall it was already late and the company was about to break up. The guests were standing with their goblets in their hands ready to drink a last offering to Hermes. Just then they saw a stranger cross the hall and kneel before the queen. All listened attentively to what he was about to say. He clasped Arete’s knees, as was the custom of supplicants, and spoke: “O Arete, daughter of the immortal hero Rhexenor, I embrace thy knees and the king’s, thy husband’s, and all the guests. I am a man overwhelmed with misfortune. May the gods prosper thee and give thee long life and to thy children great honor and wealth! Only help me to return to my home, for it is many years since I have seen my people.”
With these words he arose and seated himself in the ashes beside the hearth, as was customary for one asking help. At first the spectators were dumb with surprise, but in a few moments an old man broke the silence. “Alcinous,” he said, “thou must not allow a stranger to sit amongst the ashes. Come, lead him to a couch and let the heralds mix wine for him as an offering to Jupiter, and let the servants bring the stranger food.”
The king immediately arose, took Ulysses by the hand, and led him to a seat beside his own. What a contrast to the previous evening when the poor man, deprived of his clothes, dripping and exhausted by his struggle with the waves, had staggered on land and raked together a bed of leaves in which to warm himself. Now he was luxuriously feasting, by torchlight, in a magnificent hall.
“Come,” cried the king to the herald, “mix another bowl of wine and fill the cups of the guests that we may drink once more to Jupiter, the protector of those seeking aid.”
The herald did the king’s bidding and all poured the libation to Jupiter on the ground, then drank off the remainder, and arose from their seats. The king commanded them to come again the following day to discuss how they might assist the stranger to return to his home, unless—this had just occurred to him—he might be a god in disguise who took pleasure in mingling with mortals.
Ulysses modestly denied this flattering suggestion. “No, indeed,” said he, “I am the most miserable and unfortunate of men. But now let me eat a little more, for unhappy as I am, hunger is stronger than my sorrows, and an empty stomach gives a mortal no peace. But to-morrow, noble lords, ye shall do to me even as the king hath said and send me home, since for many years I have been consumed with longing for my wife and home.”
The princes listened to the stranger with respect, for his speech and noble mien betrayed the man of intellect and ability. When the guests had gone, Ulysses was left alone with the king and queen. Servants removed the remains of the feast, and now the queen, who had remained silent before the men, began to question her guest. She had been watching him, half in admiration and half with distrust, for she recognized the garments which he wore, having woven them herself. “I must ask thee,” said she, “who thou art and whence thou comest. Who gave thee these garments? Thou sayest that thou comest to us from across the sea.”
“Ah, Queen,” answered Ulysses, “it is too long a story to tell thee all my history. Far out in the sea lies the isle Ogygia, where lives the beautiful and powerful goddess Calypso. A frightful storm which destroyed my ship cast me on that shore, and for seven years the lovely goddess held me captive there. She promised me immortal youth if I would abide with her and be her husband, but she could not persuade me. At last she changed her mind and only twenty days ago released me, gave me rich gifts and a successful voyage until I came in sight of the blue hills of this isle. Then Poseidon’s wrath overtook me, and a terrible storm broke up my ship. Naked, I managed by constant swimming to reach these shores. Last night I passed miserably in a thicket, but a sweet sleep held me fast bound for nearly twenty hours. I did not awaken until afternoon; then I heard voices, and saw thy daughter and her maidens not far away. I approached her in my distress, and behold, I found a sensible and noble-minded maiden. She refreshed me with food and wine, bathed and anointed me, and gave me these garments; then bade me come hither.”
“All that is very good,” said Alcinous, “but the naughty girl has neglected a part of her duty. She should have brought thee straight to us, and she was here long before thou camest.”
“She did indeed offer to conduct me hither,” said the hero, “but I did not consider it fitting and did not wish thee to misjudge me. Therefore I remained modestly behind, for we men are very suspicious creatures.”
“I am not so hasty in my judgments,” interrupted Alcinous. “However, all things should be done in order, and I perceive that thou art an excellent man. If such a one as thou should request my daughter’s hand, I would gladly take him for a son-in-law. If thou wilt remain here I will give thee houses and lands, but Jupiter would not wish that I should force thee to stay with us. No, if thou so desirest I will despatch thee to-morrow on thy way. Our rowers shall take thee safely back to thy home, however far away it may be.”
“O Father Jupiter,” cried Ulysses at these words, “let all come to pass as this noble man hath said.”
And now the queen commanded the maids to prepare a bed with soft cushions and fine covers for the stranger in the hall. They went out with torches, and when all was in readiness called the stranger to his well-earned rest.
Chapter VI
Ulysses among the Phæacians
At daybreak King Alcinous and his guest arose. They went to the market place and seated themselves upon two hewn stones, such as were ranged about for the princes when they were gathered together for conference. No one had yet arrived, but Athene, disguised as a herald, was already going from house to house inviting the chiefs to a counsel. They appeared in groups and occupied the seats, while the populace crowded about to catch a glimpse of the stranger. He stood among them like a god, for Athene had made him seem taller and his glances fierier, that he might awaken admiration and love in the Phæacians. When they had all come together the king began to speak.
“Hear me,” he said, “ye noble lords of Phæacia! This stranger here—I know not whether he comes to us from the east or from the west—implores us to speed him on his way. Let us quickly settle the matter, for never has anyone come to me with a plea which has not been granted. Then arise, youths, and assemble twenty-two of your number, launch a stanch ship, and provide all that is necessary for the voyage. Then come to my palace and I will set food and drink before you. And ye, princes, grant me another favor. Follow me to my stately hall that we may once more entertain the stranger worthily. And that song may not be lacking for our friend, call the divine singer Demodocus.”
The company separated to carry out the king’s commands, and when all was ready they repaired to the palace, which was filled with guests. Alcinous caused twelve sheep, eight swine, and two oxen to be brought from his stables, which the youths began to prepare, while the herald returned with the minstrel who was to entertain the guests.
He was blind, but his mind was stored with splendid tales which he could recite most eloquently, accompanying himself upon the harp. The herald led him gently by the arm into the midst of the company, where he placed a chair for him near a pillar. He then hung the harp upon a nail and guided the blind man’s hand to the place. Next he placed a table before him with meat, brought the bread basket, mixed the wine for him, and waited upon the other guests likewise. As soon as the company had satisfied their appetites, the minstrel took down his harp and began to prelude; then his song rang out like unto distant cries of battle and clang of swords and thundering of hoofs. He sang of the heroic deeds of the Trojan war, and the song found an echo deep in the hearts of his Greek hearers. Then the lines changed, and he celebrated the prowess of two heroes whose fame outshone all others—Achilles and Ulysses.
It was like a sword-thrust to our hero. His heart was torn with memories. He pulled his mantle over his head and hid his face, that the Phæacians might not see his tears. Alcinous, who sat beside him, heard his sobs and at the minstrel’s next pause tactfully said: “Friends, I think we have had enough of feasting and song. Let us go forth and practise some games, that our guest may see and admire the skill of our people.”
The company at once arose and followed the king, the blind minstrel being guided by a faithful servant. The market place was full of life. The nobles seated themselves, the people stood round about, and the youths who were to show their skill in wrestling, boxing, running, and throwing entered the great arena.
First there was a race between three sons of the king, Laodamas, Halius, and Clytonæus, which was won by the latter. Then came the wrestlers, the strongest of whom was Euryalus. Next came jumping, then disk throwing, and at last boxing. In this dangerous sport the handsome Laodamas was the victor.
“Listen, friends,” cried the bold young man; “let us inquire if our guest be not skilled in games. Truly he has a noble figure. See his powerful chest, his thighs, his arms, and his strong neck. His build proclaims the man of skill, and he is in the prime of his powers.” “It is a good idea! Go and challenge him,” answered Euryalus, the wrestler.
Laodamas followed the behest, but Ulysses declined. “Ah,” said he, “my misfortunes are nearer to my heart than feats of strength, and my only thought is of how I may quickly reach home. Ye do not know all that I have suffered.”
“Very good, my friend,” mocked the hasty Euryalus; “one can see that thou art not an expert. No warrior art thou, but perchance an agent on a merchant vessel, who ships the goods and reckons up the profits.”
“That was an unseemly speech,” answered the noble Ulysses. “Truly the gods have distributed their gifts in various ways. Many a man of insignificant stature is distinguished for his intellect, while perhaps another with a godlike form is poor in good sense. Thus it is with thee. Thou art beautiful to look upon, but hast little wit. Truly, wert thou not so young a fool, thou hadst angered me with thine impertinent speech. No, believe me, I am no novice at boxing. I have measured myself with the bravest before calamity bowed me down; for I have suffered all that a man can, on the field of battle as well as in storms at sea. But even so, I will not leave thy challenge unanswered. Give me the disk.”
He took the heaviest of the metal plates, swung it by the strap a few times—in a circle, and then cast it high in the air, so that it fell far beyond the marks of the other throwers. One of the spectators ran forward and put a stake in the place where the disk lay, and when he returned he cried aloud: “Hail to thee, stranger. In this contest thou mayest be sure none shall equal thee.”
“See if ye can throw as far, ye youths,” cried Ulysses. “And if anyone is anxious to contend with me, either in boxing, wrestling, or in running, let him come. Phæacians, I am ready! Come who will, excepting Laodamas. He is my host, and it were unseemly to challenge him who hath fed and sheltered me. But I will not refuse any of the others, and truly I need not fear. I am expert in all feats of strength, but in spanning the bow I still have to find my master. Amongst a crowd of the enemy I can single out my man, and my arrow will lay him low. But one man excelled me when we lay before Troy, Philoctetes; but amongst all the rest I was the foremost. With the lance I aimed better than another with the arrow. In running, one of you could perhaps outdo me; for the stormy sea and long fasts have much weakened me.”
The Phæacians all were silent. Not one dared challenge the hero. Then the king began to speak. “Worthy stranger, we believe thy words, for thou dost not speak through love of boasting, but because the youth has bitterly offended thee. Listen to me, that thou mayest yet speak well of us at home. In boxing and wrestling we do not excel, but Jupiter has granted us to be fleet in the race above all peoples and masters upon the sea. We also love much feasting, harping, and the dance, beautiful garments and warm baths. Come then, ye who are skilled in the dance, show yourselves, that the stranger may tell of your art. Let some one fetch Demodocus’ harp.”
The young dancers took their places and began the dance with measured steps and wondrous leapings, while Ulysses admired their flying feet. The strains of the harp formed a lovely accompaniment to the movements of the dancers, and the old minstrel soon struck up a comic song which compelled the listeners to break into shouts of laughter. When the choral dance had lasted a while, Laodamas and Halius danced alone, to the admiration of all. One threw a ball almost to the clouds, and the other, leaping, caught it ere his foot had touched the earth. Ulysses was delighted with the agility and grace of the youths and paid them compliments which delighted their father’s heart. And as he had determined to dismiss the stranger royally, he proposed to the assembly that each of the twelve chiefs of the Phæacians should make the guest a present of gold, together with a fine embroidered robe. The impertinent Euryalus was obliged to beg the guest’s pardon and to offer him a propitiatory gift.
All agreed to the king’s proposal, and the youth brought a brazen sword with a silver hilt and scabbard of ivory as his offering. He approached Ulysses abashed, and with eyes cast down addressed him. “Be not angry, oh stranger. Let the winds scatter the offensive words which I have spoken. May the gods grant thee a speedy return to thy house and thy people, after thy long wanderings.”
“My dear fellow,” answered Ulysses, “mayest thou also enjoy the favor of the gods. And mayest thou never regret the gift which thou hast offered me.” He hung the sword over his shoulder, and all irritation was forgotten.
In the meanwhile evening had descended. Servants brought the gifts to the market place, and they were carried into the palace. There also the princes gathered, taking their usual places in the hall. Alcinous requested the queen to have a warm bath prepared for their guest, while he selected the gifts which he intended to present to him.
A great kettle of water was brought, the maids piled up wood and kindled a fire under it, while the queen herself brought in the costly presents and packed them deftly away in a chest, which Ulysses bound and tied with a cunning knot taught him by the powerful Circe. He then went out to the bath, luxuriating in the steaming tub. When he had dried himself, the maids anointed him with oil, and draped him with a magnificent tunic and cloak. Just as he was about to reënter the festal hall he felt soft hands upon his arm. It was the lovely Nausicaa, whom he had not seen since the previous day. She had learned of the preparations for his departure, and her heart desired to look once more upon the splendid man who had approached her with such dignity the day before. So she stole down the stairs and awaited him at the door. He came, a noble virility shining from his countenance, his bearing breathing dignity and power.
“Hail to thee, oh guest,” she whispered. “When thou art again in thine home, think sometimes of the girl in Scheria to whom thou once didst owe thy life.” She looked down and could scarcely keep back the tears.
The stranger answered: “If the gods will but grant me a safe return I shall remember thee and praise thy name like a goddess’ each day, for thou hast saved my life, gentle maiden.”
Nausicaa went sorrowfully back to her chamber, while Ulysses entered the hall and took his seat. The servants brought roasted meat and began to fill the goblets of the guests from great pitchers of milk. A herald guided the venerable minstrel to his place. Ulysses beckoned to the herald, then cut a fat morsel from the piece of meat before him, saying: “Take this to Demodocus. Poor though I am, I should like to do him honor, for one should always respect the minstrels. The muse herself has taught them and showers her favors upon them.” Demodocus accepted the gift with pleasure.
When all had appeased their hunger, Ulysses turned again to the minstrel and begged him, as he knew all the adventures of the Trojan war, to sing the one of the wooden horse with which Ulysses had deceived the Trojans. So the man sang the curious tale, never dreaming that the hero whose cunning he was celebrating was at his side. During the recital the hero often sighed and wiped away a tear. Alcinous noticed his emotion and again tactfully bade the singer pause, saying: “Our guest has been listening in tears; a deep sorrow seems to gnaw at his heart. Let the singer be silent, then, that all may be joyful. The stranger who cometh to us with confidence must be dear to us as a brother. And now tell us, friend, without evasion, what we would know of thee. Speak! What is thy name, who are thy parents, and where thy native land? For this we must know, if we would guide thee thither, which we shall gladly do, although an ancient oracle has warned us that jealous Poseidon will sometime sink our ship on its return from such a voyage. Tell us, too, where thou hast been and of the people thou hast met. Tell us all this and also why thou weepest while the minstrel sings of Troy.”
Chapter VII
Ulysses tells his Story—The Lotus-Eaters, Polyphemus, Circe, Scylla, and Charybdis—The Visit to Hades
The company sat in silent expectation, gazing intently at the stranger, who began as follows: “The land of the Phæacians is indeed a delightful land, and I know no greater pleasure than to sit in the banquet hall, while heralds move from table to table filling the cups, and the minstrel sings splendid songs of the heroic deeds of brave men. For harp and voice are the ornaments of the feast. But ye ask me for my unhappy history. Where shall I begin the tale, for the immortal gods have heaped much misery upon me? Let my name come first, that ye may know me and keep me in remembrance. I am Ulysses, son of Laertes, well known to men through many exploits.”
The Phæacians were transfixed with astonishment, and the old minstrel bemoaned the loss of his eyesight that he was unable to see the man whose heroic deeds he had so often sung. He, the most famous among all the Trojan warriors, had eaten and drunk with them, and was now going to tell them of all the wonderful deeds which he had done and the hardships he had suffered.
“Yes, I am Ulysses,” continued the hero. “The sunny isle of Ithaca is my home. I will not speak of the unhappy war. When it was ended I turned with my comrades to Ismarus, the city of the Ciconians, destroyed it, slew the fleeing men, while we divided the women and other booty amongst us. I now counselled that we should hasten from the place, but my foolish comrades did not obey me. As long as they had enough plunder, wine, sheep, and goats, they caroused upon the shore and thus brought the first misfortune upon us.
“The conquered Ciconians summoned their allies in the interior, who responded in great numbers, fell upon us, and horribly revenged themselves. The fierce battle at the ships began early in the morning. At first we defied the overwhelming numbers of the enemy, but as the sun set we were obliged to give way. Each of my ships lost six men, and it was only with difficulty that I escaped in swift boats with the others. Happy in our escape we sailed toward the west, keeping near to the coast of Greece. Then a terrible storm arose, breaking the masts and tearing the sails. With difficulty we put to shore to mend them, and on the third morning when we set out with renewed hope, a fresh storm descended upon us from the heights of Malea and drove us far out into the open sea.
“For nine days we drifted before the awful north wind, and on the tenth day were driven on the coast of the lotus-eaters. They are an amiable people and most fortunate, for they possess a fruit called the lotus, which is their daily food and is sweeter than honey. Whoever eats of it forgets his home and desires to remain there forever. We landed to take on fresh water and the lotus did not fail in its effects. I had to drive my companions back to the ships, bind them with ropes, and throw them under the rowers’ benches, and if I had not put off again quickly, not a single man would have followed me.
“We now rowed out again over the boundless sea and landed on a wooded island near the coast of Sicily, which was uninhabited except by countless herds of goats roaming the lowlands. They were without fear, so that we had easy hunting, and provided ourselves plentifully with game. When we had refreshed ourselves with food and sleep I was anxious to row across to the next island, which seemed to be very large and fruitful. We could hear voices there and see cattle climbing about the hills. It is the home of the giant race of Cyclops, a savage people who know nothing of agriculture, have no laws, nor fear gods nor men. I said to my companions: ‘Remain here with your ships. I will row across in mine with twelve picked companions and examine the land.’ I embarked, taking with me a large skin of excellent wine, for I divined that I might fall in with savage people who could not be won by reason or fair words, and therefore I furnished myself with this sweet, beguiling drink.
“On our arrival I carefully concealed my vessel in a hidden cave and landed with my people and my wine skin. Not far away I saw a tremendous cave in the rock surrounded by a wall of great stones and shaded by a row of gigantic firs and oaks. It was the dwelling of the most terrible of the giants, where he spent the night with his goats and sheep; for the care of his flocks was his sole occupation. He was the son of Poseidon and his name was Polyphemus. Like all the Cyclops, he had a single but horrible eye in the middle of his forehead. His arms were powerful enough to move rocks, and he could sling granite blocks through the air like pebbles. He wandered about alone among the mountains, none of the other Cyclops holding intercourse with him. He was savage and delighted only in mischief and destructiveness.
“I, unhappy man, not knowing this, went with my companions straight to the open cave and entered it. We did not find him there, as the sun had not yet gone down and he was still grazing his herds on distant hills. The stalls were full of lambs and young kids. There were baskets and tubs of cheese and milk; also curds in great vessels and milking pails. My companions wanted very much to fill a few baskets with cheese, drive away a number of lambs and kids, and quickly make away with them in the ships before the dread king of the cave should return. But I forbade this, for I was too curious to see the man and hoped, besides, to receive a gift from him, as is the custom among hospitable people. But how mistaken I was!
“We seated ourselves in the cave, lighted a fire for an offering, and passed the time eating cheese until the Cyclops should come home. Toward evening he appeared with his whole herd before the mouth of the cave. We drew back in affright, and he did not see us at first. He bore on his shoulders a tremendous load of wood, which he dropped upon the ground with a clatter which made the rocks tremble and caused us to flee into the innermost recesses of the cave. He then drove the goats and sheep inside, and barred the entrance with a piece of rock that two and twenty wagons could not have moved from the spot. We were prisoners in the power of the monster.
“We were able to watch him unobserved for a while as he seated himself comfortably on the ground to milk the animals, then poured the milk into tubs, and last stirred the fire. The flames leapt up and he discovered us huddled together in a corner. For a moment he stared, then thundered at us in a fearful voice: ‘Ho, strangers! Whence come ye? Are ye traders or robbers who roam the seas, not sparing human life?’
“Our knees trembled at the sound of the monster’s voice. However, I quickly recovered myself and answered boldly: ‘We are Greeks returning from Troy, cast upon this coast by storms. As we have been overtaken by misfortune we beseech thee to shelter us and to please the gods by sending us on our way with gifts. Honor the gods, excellent sir, for Jupiter is the avenger of all wrongs committed against the traveller.’
“‘Oho! Thou foolish stranger,’ roared the Cyclops. ‘Thou seemest to know the Cyclops ill. Nobody here honors the gods, and we know naught of thy Jupiter, for we ourselves are much greater. But tell me, where didst thou land with thy vessel?’
“I perceived his cunning and determined that he should not outwit me. ‘My ship,’ said I aloud. ‘Ah, had we it still we should not be here. The waves destroyed it, and had we not been able to swim, we should all have perished.’
“Instead of answering, the cruel Cyclops stretched out both his arms, seized two of my companions, and dashed them upon the ground so that blood and brains spattered in all directions. He tore them apart and ate them. We shrieked aloud when we saw this horrid deed and prayed to Jupiter. But our lamentations did not affect the Cyclops. He drank a tub of milk and stretched himself out to sleep.
“‘What shall I do?’ I said to myself when the monster began to snore. ‘Shall I plunge my sword into his heart before he awakens. But no! if I kill him, who shall open the door for us?’ No one but the giant himself would be able to move away the mighty stone. We should only be preparing for ourselves a miserable death by slow starvation. We needed to invent some better plan, and so we awaited the break of day in fear and uncertainty.