Ulysses of Ithaca · Karl Friedrich Becker
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.
“With the dawn the Cyclops awoke and went about his usual business. He put fresh wood on the fire, milked his herd, and put the nurslings to suck. Then he again seized two of my dear companions and killed and ate them as he had done the others. Next, he pushed back the stone, drove out the flocks, and deftly rolled the great rock back in its place. “Thus we were again imprisoned for the whole day. I now conceived a plan to avenge our lost comrades and to free ourselves—I would put out his great eye with a red-hot stake! I found just the piece for the purpose. It was the giant’s own club of green olivewood, as long and as thick as a mast. I hewed off a piece from the end, my companions helped to smooth it, and I sharpened the point and hardened it in the glowing coals. When my weapon was ready I carefully concealed it under the pile of straw on the ground. Hereupon we drew lots to find out which of my companions should help me thrust the stake into the eye of the sleeping giant, and we fearfully awaited his return. At last he came, driving in his flocks, and this time he left none of the animals outside, either because he was suspicious of us or because a god had so decreed. He set up the great stone, milked his sheep and goats, ate two more of my poor companions, and put fresh wood on the fire. I now brought out the wine skin and went boldly up to him.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.