Ulysses of Ithaca · Karl Friedrich Becker
Chapter VI Ulysses among the Phæacians
“We reached the shores of the Cimmerians, where the sun no longer sheds its light. There we beached our ship, took the sacrificial gifts, and descended to the place which Circe had shown me. We found all as she had foretold. I now began to dig a pit with my sword, an ell square, and into it I poured an offering for the dead as I had been instructed; first of honey and milk, then of sweet wine, and at last of water, strewing white flour over all. Then the two sheep were handed me, and I cut their throats with my sword so that the dark blood ran into the pit. Immediately the departed souls floated up in crowds from the lower world and pressed upon me. But I held them back with my sword, and commanded my companions to burn the sheep which had been skinned meanwhile. While the offering was being consumed we prayed to all the gods of the lower world, and I did not forget to make promises to them and to Tiresias, provided that I should reach Ithaca in safety. “I gazed upon the approaching shades with silent awe. I saw armed men with deep wounds, old dames and blooming maidens, careworn old men and vigorous youths. They crowded about the pit on all sides with horrible cries, and I had hard work to keep them from the blood with my sword.
“The spirits seemed speechless except Tiresias. He bade me turn away the sharp sword, that he might drink of the blood and prophesy of my fate. When he had drunk he leaned upon his golden staff and began: ‘Noble Ulysses, thou art anxious to return to thy home, but one of the gods will put difficulties in thy way. Dost thou not know how deeply thou didst offend Poseidon in blinding the eye of his son? Still all may be well with thee if only thou layest not thine hands upon the steers of Helios upon the island of Thrinakia. If thou shouldst kill one of them thou mayest scarcely expect to be saved, and if thou shouldst ever see thy native land again, it would only be after many years of hardship and without any of thy companions. Others shall feast upon thy substance, woo thy spouse, and seek to lay deadly traps for thy son. But at last a divinity shall take pity on thee that thou mayest slay the presumptuous guests in thy palace. The deed will compel thee to leave thine ancestral home and to settle far inland. Then let it be a token for thee that, when on thy pilgrimage with thine oar upon thy shoulder, thou shalt meet a man who shall call the oar a shovel, that it is the place which the gods have set apart for the haven of thine old age. Far from the sea, death shall come gently upon thee.’
“‘So that is to be my fate, O Tiresias,’ I said. ‘But tell me, do I not see my old mother amongst the spirits? She deigns not to speak to her son, nor looks into my face. What shall I do to make her know me?’ “‘If thou wouldst question any of these spirits, let them drink of the blood,’ answered Tiresias; ‘then mind and speech shall return to them.’ “I waited until my mother should approach, and as soon as she had drunk she recognized me with joy and astonishment. I recounted to her all my sufferings and questioned her in what manner she had died and how my father, wife, and dear son at home were faring. She told me that all were alive and longed for me every day, that my father, grown weak with age, lived in the palace no longer, but cultivated his vineyards in the country. “She departed and in her place came other women, wives of famous heroes I had known. They, too, drank of the blood and told me of their fate. My heart swelled as I beheld the spirits of dear friends floating near who had once been my companions before Troy—Agamemnon, Achilles, Patroclus, and the excellent Ajax, all of whom death had overtaken before they saw their native land again. I was most astonished to see Agamemnon here. I questioned him and, lamenting, he told me his sad fate. He inquired about his living son, Orestes, but alas, I could tell him nothing of the Greeks. But I was able to tell Achilles of many glorious deeds done by his son Neoptolemus, of whose bravery in war I had often been witness after his father’s death. Even in the pale world of shades Achilles rejoiced in his son’s valor, and floated proudly down to the fields of asphodel where dwell the spirits of brave heroes.
“I saw also the heroes of ancient times. Minos, the wise ruler and lawgiver of Crete, was even now holding judgment over the souls of the dead in Hades; and Orion, the great hunter, with his mighty bow drove innumerable game before him. Tityus, that gigantic son of earth, who had once dared to dishonor the divine Leto, mother of Apollo and Artemis, lay fast bound upon the ground in punishment, two vultures on either side tearing at his entrails which ever grew again and were anew destroyed. Not less terrible was the penalty of Sisyphus, a king who had practised many cruelties during his lifetime. He was obliged to push a heavy block of marble up a steep hill, and as often as he had nearly reached the top it would glide from his hands and roll thundering down to the bottom of the valley. Then, bathed in cold perspiration and in a cloud of dust, he would begin the difficult task over again.
“I saw Tantalus also, that celebrated king whom Jupiter allowed to sit at his own table and feast with the gods. His vain heart was unworthy of the honor. He misused their confidence and betrayed their secrets; and for this he was undergoing a terrible martyrdom in Hades. A burning thirst consumes him continually, and though he stands up to his throat in water, and delicious pear, fig, and apple trees hang their sweet fruits above his head, he can never satisfy his vehement desires; for as often as he bends down to the water the pool suddenly dries up, and as often as he raises his hand to pluck of the juicy fruit, a furious wind quickly tosses the branches toward the clouds. I saw also the shade of Hercules. He lives in Olympus with the gods and is married to Hebe, enjoying the pleasures of the gods in return for all his labor on earth. Only his shade is in Hades. Theseus and Pirithous also glided by at a distance.
“I did not venture to remain much longer in this dread place, but full of what I had seen and heard, hastened back to the ship with my companions. We all went aboard and Oceanus bore us back the way we had come. Circe had scarcely heard of our arrival when she visited us and sent us plenty of bread, meat, and wine. When it began to grow dark she seated herself by my side, apart from the others, and gave me much wise advice for my coming voyage. She warned me against the Sirens who entice travellers with sweet songs, only to devour them like beasts of prey. ‘As it is impossible to resist their entrancing singing,’ she said, ‘take this piece of wax and knead it into a paste with which to stop the ears of thy companions; but cause thyself to be bound to the mast, and when, carried away by the magic singing, thou wouldst set thyself free, let them bind thee the faster.
“‘Another and greater danger awaits thee in the fearful abyss where dwell Scylla and Charybdis. There the sea is forced between two high rocks scarcely an arrow’s flight apart. Deep at the foot of one lurks Charybdis, the monster, gulping down endless streams of water with all ships and men who approach too near, and long afterwards spitting them out again dashed to pieces in the turmoil. Beware of that side and keep closer to the right, where the other monster, Scylla, dwells. When thou passest by thou wilt be obliged to pay her a terrible toll, for with each of her six jaws she will snatch one of thy men from the rower’s bench. But it is better to lose six men than to see thy whole ship go down in Charybdis’ whirlpool. Finally I warn thee of the sacred oxen of Helios on the island Thrinakia. Shouldst thou harm one of them, I prophesy destruction for thee and thy ship and thy friends; and even if thou shouldst thyself escape, thou shalt return home only after many years, unhappy and without any companions.’ “Thus spake the glorious goddess, and as rosy Eos appeared we hastened to our ships to take advantage of a favorable wind. As soon as I thought we were nearing the Sirens I kneaded the wax and stopped the ears of my friends; but me they bound fast to the mast. Thus we rowed on. The Sirens heard us coming and began their enchanting song. As I listened I was seized with an overmastering desire to hear more and struggled to loosen my bonds. I begged my friends with signs and gestures to aid me, but they only tied me faster, until the magical sounds grew fainter and fainter and the danger was left far behind.
“We next saw mist and rolling surf and heard hollow reverberations in the distance. The arms of the rowers became paralyzed and the ship stood still. I hastened among them and admonished them to row as fast as possible, but commanded the steersman to keep as far to the right as possible, that we might not be engulfed by Charybdis. I wisely kept silent about the fearful Scylla, or not a man would have rowed another stroke. As I stood on the high deck, armed with two spears and looking down into the foaming gulf, I heard a cry of pain on my right, and behold, the fearful monster had seized with her six jaws the bravest and strongest of my companions. They called loudly for help, but I could do naught for them. At last we had passed through the awful gulf and feasted our eyes on the green hills of Thrinakia. We could hear the lowing of the splendid oxen of Helios and the cheerful sound of bleating herds of sheep. Helios, the Sun-god, had placed these herds in the care of two nymphs, and delighted in watching them as often as he guided his golden chariot over Thrinakia’s hills. They never increased or diminished, neither did they grow old. “‘Friends,’ said I, ‘this is the fatal island, and I already see the pleasant flocks of Helios, to touch which means death. Let us heed the warning of Tiresias and the divine Circe and avoid the island, for they have told us that the most terrible fate awaits us there.’
“My companions were displeased with my speech and began to murmur. Eurylochus was their spokesman. ‘Cruel, but too courageous Ulysses,’ said he, ‘thou art never weary, but we are worn out with our labors and thou begrudgest us rest. Thou wouldst have us row blindly out into the night. Let us land, take food, and rest beside the ship. Early in the morning we can set out again.’ “All applauded Eurylochus’ speech, and I perceived that the god was bent on my destruction. I said to them: ‘Ye can easily force me, a single man among many, to obedience. Only swear that ye will not touch one of those animals, but will be satisfied with the food which the immortal Circe has given us.’ They promised hastily and the steersman put to land. “We disembarked and ate our supper. Then we bewailed the terrible death of our companions, and it was late before sweet slumber came to dry our tears. But alas, what an awakening we were to have. During the night a frightful storm arose and thick black clouds veiled land and sea. When morning dawned we drew our ship into a rocky cove and sheltered ourselves as best we could. “‘Friends,’ I said, ‘we shall not get away from this island to-day, but we have a store of food and drink. Swear to me once more that none of you will touch the sacred cattle.’
“They all promised, but for four long weeks the south wind and the rough east wind alternated with each other and our departure was delayed. When all the store of food had been eaten my companions scoured the beach to find shellfish or would shoot a bird for food. But all these were not enough to appease their gnawing hunger. I, too, wandered about the island far from the ship, washed my hands in the sacred sea, and prayed to the gods that one of them might show me the way to return. When I had prayed thus a deep sleep overcame me, and I sank down upon the shore. “When my companions found themselves alone they determined to break their oath. ‘If Jupiter has destined us to death, let us be suddenly dashed to pieces in the ship rather than die miserably of hunger here,’ said Eurylochus. ‘Come let us take some of the oxen and sacrifice them, and vow a temple in Ithaca to the offended Sun-god as soon as we are safe at home.’ “Just as the fat shanks were steaming on the hastily prepared altar I awoke and came hastening to the scene. Ye gods! what were my feelings when I smelled the unexpected odors from afar. It was vain to blame myself or my companions. The nymphs had carried the news to Helios, and the god threatened that unless he should receive sufficient reparation he would no longer light the world for gods and men. Upon this, Jupiter promised him to destroy my ship as soon as I should put to sea again. Alas, what woes were still in store for me!
“For six days my comrades feasted, but on the seventh, when the fury of the storm had spent itself, we hastily embarked and sailed rapidly toward our native coast. We had not gone far when a terrific west wind arose, piling up black thunder clouds. Our little vessel was tossed hither and thither until, with a loud crash, the mainmast broke off, carrying the steersman with it into the sea. Then came a frightful bolt of lightning which split the ship in two and all the rowers were precipitated into the water, where they tossed about and then sank. I had clung tightly to the keel, and when the broken mast with its sail ropes floated near enough, I bound it fast to the keel. I tried to keep myself afloat on this miserable raft, but despaired of ever reaching land, especially as a south wind suddenly arose, which carried me straight toward the straits of Scylla. The current bore me toward the whirlpool of Charybdis, so that only a miracle could save me. On a cliff directly overhanging the gulf I saw a fig tree, and just as the whirlpool was about to suck me down I seized hold of its slender stem, clinging to it like a bat, for I found no place for my feet. My raft had been swallowed up, but I knew that the monster would soon cast it out again, and sure enough, presently my faithful raft came floating safely along. I essayed a sudden leap, grasped the raft desperately, and was carried out again by the current into the open sea. The storm had subsided and I paddled about for nine days with my hands, almost perishing with hunger. On the tenth day I was fortunate enough to reach land. It was Ogygia, Calypso’s island, where I was held in captivity for nine years, as I have told you.”
Chapter VIII Ulysses is taken sleeping to Ithaca by the Phæacians—Athene counsels him—He comes to Eumæus All eyes were fastened upon the speaker and all listened with delight to the wonderful adventures of Ulysses. “We should pay even greater honor to the hero who has suffered so much,” cried Alcinous. “Let each of the twelve princes add a tripod of bronze and a silver basin to his gift.” All agreed and the company broke up for the night. At daybreak they reassembled, each bringing his gift. Alcinous himself went aboard the vessel and carefully fitted it out with all that was necessary. Then all repaired once more to the king’s palace for a farewell banquet and sacrificial offering. Ulysses, longing for home, spake to the king. “Most honored hero and mighty King Alcinous, and ye princes of the Phæacians, speed me now upon my way, for I have all that heart can wish. May the gods bless your gifts and my return and send you good fortune.” After the last rites of hospitality had been completed Ulysses turned to Arete, and putting his cup into her hand he said: “Farewell forever, O Queen, until old age and death, the lot of all mankind, shall overtake thee. Mayest thou be happy in thy palace for many years amongst thy children, thy husband, and thy people.”
After taking leave he hurried to the ship and laid himself down to rest, while the rowers took their places and bent to their task. Ulysses sank into a slumber, forgetting all his woes. As the morning star arose the ship landed in one of Ithaca’s bays. Even the shock of landing did not awaken the hero, and the Phæacian youths carried him gently on shore. They took out all the presents and piled them beside him beneath an olive tree. They then reëmbarked and steered gayly homeward. But the unfortunates could not escape the wrath of Poseidon. He saw them returning, and transformed their ship into a rock in the midst of the sea and surrounded the city of Phæacia with high cliffs. In the meantime Ulysses awoke and did not recognize his home, for Athene had surrounded him with a thick fog. “Woe is me,” he cried. “In what strange country have the deceitful Phæacians left me? What shall I do? I will first examine the gifts and see if all are here.” He counted them and found none missing. As he was strolling along, Athene in the form of a lovely little shepherd boy came toward him. Ulysses was overjoyed. “A greeting to thee, the first being I have met in this strange land,” he said. “I humbly beg of thee to tell me where I am. What country is this and by what people inhabited? Is it an island or a promontory of the mainland?”
“Thou must have come from afar,” interrupted the youth, “if thou knowest not this land; for in truth it is famous enough. To be sure it is rough and mountainous and not fit for horses, but grain and wine flourish here and it supports quantities of cattle and sheep. It is well watered by brooks and covered with magnificent forests. Indeed the fame of Ithaca has even reached Troy, and that they say is far from the Achaian land.” The crafty one hid his feelings, for he did not wish to be known. “Indeed,” he said, “I have often heard the name in Crete, my home. I am a refugee. The Phæacians kindly brought me hither with these, my goods; for I have slain a king’s son who wished to take from me my booty from the Trojan wars. Therefore I had to leave wife and child and—” “Silence!” interrupted Athene, smiling and changing into a beautiful maiden of heroic stature. “Thou art still the same resourceful Ulysses as of yore, whom I have always protected. Spare me thy jests, for we know each other. I am Pallas Athene, and am now come to give thee counsel how thou mayest punish the insolent suitors in thy house. For they have wooed thy virtuous spouse for three years with marriage gifts, but she repulses them all and cherishes thy image alone in her heart and longs unspeakably for thy return.”
“It is difficult indeed to recognize thee in human form, oh goddess,” cried Ulysses. “True, thou hast often appeared to me in battle and in times of need, but it has seemed to me that lately thou hadst deserted me and that I should never see thee again. But tell me, how can this be Ithaca? I do not recognize it.” “I had not forgotten thee,” answered the goddess. “But I did not wish to oppose the mighty Poseidon, my great uncle, who pursued thee with his revenge. I knew too that total destruction was not to be thy destiny. Now I will show thee the land.” And Athene dissipated the mists so that the country lay clear before them. Ulysses fell upon his face and joyfully kissed the sacred mother earth and with uplifted hands prayed to the nymphs, the protecting goddesses of the place whereon he stood. “And now, Ulysses,” said Athene, “let us hide thy valuables so that no one shall rob thee of them.” She entered the nymphs’ grotto and Ulysses handed her each piece, which she carefully stowed away and then rolled a stone before the low entrance. Next they sat down under the old olive tree and Athene gave him much advice.
Although she promised him assistance she counselled him to proceed very cautiously as the suitors numbered over one hundred. Above all, nobody must know of his arrival until he had secretly learned who his friends were and had assured himself of sufficient adherents. To this end she wished to transform him so that no one should recognize him or suspect the presence of the great king. She touched him gently with her staff and immediately he became like an old man with shrunken flesh and deep wrinkles, white hair and pale, watery eyes. His long flowing robes were changed into a coarse and ragged shirt, and his cloak became a shabby deerskin. In order to complete the beggar’s garb she supplied him with a large wallet and put a knotty stick into his hand. In this apparel she bade him first visit the good swineherd, who was an enemy of the suitors and was truly devoted to his master. From him he could soon learn further particulars. In the meanwhile she would hasten to meet young Telemachus, returning from Sparta, for whom the suitors were lying in wait with their ships. She would bring their schemes to naught and hoped soon to guide the youth into his father’s arms. They parted, and Ulysses climbed the steep path which led to the dwelling of the good swineherd, Eumæus. He was chief of all the king’s herdsmen and had four men under him, who took care of all the flocks.
The estimable swineherd was sitting at the door of his hut cutting out sandals to wear when he should go into the city. By his side lay four savage-looking dogs. When the beasts saw Ulysses with his beggar’s pack in the distance, they sprang up barking and ran furiously toward him. He quickly laid by his staff and bowed himself down, but still they would have seized him had not the swineherd followed quickly to enforce his commands with stones and calls. “In truth the beasts came near devouring thee and thou hadst caused me shame and sorrow, old man,” he cried. “I have already troubles enough, for I sit here grieving bitterly for my dear master, whose fat swine I am obliged to send daily to the impious men in his palace, while he, perhaps, goes hungry or wanders like a beggar among strangers, if perchance he still sees the light of the sun. But come into my hut, that I may set bread and wine before thee and thou canst tell me who and whence thou art.” Thus speaking he preceded Ulysses into the hut, where he prepared him a couch of straw covered with goatskins. Ulysses was touched by his kindness and said: “May Jupiter send thee what thou most wishest for, friend, in return for thy kindness to me.”
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.