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.”