lived on the island, while the others remained in the ship close to the
seashore. So they set out, and at last they came to the mouth of a great
cave, where many sheep and goats were penned up in large folds. They
could see no one in the cave or anywhere near it; and they waited a long
while, but no one came. They lit a fire, and made themselves merry, as
they ate the cheese and drank the milk which was stored up round the
sides of the cave.
Suddenly they heard a great noise of heavy feet stamping on the ground.
They were so frightened that they ran inside the cave, and crouched down
at the end of it. Nearer and nearer came the Cyclops, and his tread
almost made the earth shake. In he came, with many dry logs of wood on
his back; and in came all the sheep, which he milked every evening; but
the rams and the goats stayed outside. But if Ulysses and his men were
afraid when they saw Polyphemus the Cyclops come in, they were much more
afraid when he took up a great stone, which was almost as big as the
mouth of the cave, and set it up against it for a door.
Then the men whispered to Ulysses and said, “Did we not beg and pray you
not to come into the cave? But you would not listen to us; and now how
are we to get out again? Why, two-and-twenty wagons would not be able to
take away that huge stone from the mouth of the cave.” They were shut in
now, and there was no use in thinking of their folly for coming in.
So there they lay, crouching in the corner of the cave, and trembling
with fear lest Polyphemus should see them. But the Cyclops went on
milking the sheep, then he put the milk into the bowls round the sides
of the cave, and lit the fire to cook his meal. As the flames shot up
from the burning wood to the roof of the cave, it showed him the forms
of Ulysses and his companions, where they lay huddled together in the
corner. He cried out to them with a loud voice, “Who are you that dare to
come into the cave of Polyphemus? Are you come to rob me of my sheep, or
my cheese and milk that I keep here?”
Then Ulysses said, “No; we are not come to do you harm: we are Greeks,
who have been fighting at Troy to bring back Helen whom Paris stole
away from Sparta, and we went there with the great king Agamemnon, whom
everybody knows. We are on our way home to Ithaca; but Neptune sent a
great storm, because Minerva was angry with me; and almost all our ships
have been sunk in the sea, or broken to pieces on the rocks.”
When he had finished speaking, Polyphemus frowned savagely and said, “I
know nothing of Agamemnon, or Paris, or Helen;” and he seized two of the
men, and broke their heads against the stones, and cooked them for his
dinner.
That day Polyphemus ate a huge meal, and drank several bowls full of
milk; and after that he fell fast asleep. As he lay there snoring in
his heavy sleep, Ulysses thought how easy it would be to plunge the
sword into his breast, and kill him. He was just going to do it, when he
thought of the great stone which Polyphemus had placed at the mouth of
the cave; and he knew that if Polyphemus were killed no one else could
move away the stone, and so they would all die shut up in that dismal
place.
So the hours of the night went wearily on. Neither Ulysses nor his
friends could sleep, for they thought of the men whom Polyphemus had
eaten, and how they would very likely be eaten up themselves. At last
they could tell, from the dim light which came in between the top of
the stone and the roof of the cave, that the morning was come. Soon
Polyphemus awoke and milked all the sheep again. When he had done this,
he went to the end of the cave, and took up two more men and killed and
ate them. Then he took down the great stone from the mouth of the cave,
and drove all the cattle out to graze on the soft grass on the hills;
and Ulysses began to hope that they might be able to get away before
Polyphemus came back. But the Cyclops was not so silly as to let them go,
for, as soon as the cattle were gone out, he took up the huge stone again
as easily as if it had been a pebble, and put it up against the mouth of
the cave; and there were Ulysses and his friends shut up again as fast as
ever.
Then Ulysses began to think more and more how they were to get away, for
if they stayed there they would soon be all killed, if Polyphemus went
on eating four of them every day. At last, near the sheepfold, he saw
a club which Polyphemus was going to use as a walking-stick. It was the
whole trunk of an olive-tree, fresh and green, for he had only just cut
it and left it to dry, that he might carry it about when it was fit for
use. There it lay like the mast of a ship, which twenty men could hardly
have lifted. Ulysses cut off a bit from the end, as much as a man could
carry, and told the men to bring it to a very sharp point; and when they
had done this he hardened it in the fire, and then hid it away till
Polyphemus should come home.
By and by, when the sun was sinking, they heard the terrible tramp of
his feet and felt the earth shake beneath his tread. The great stone was
taken away from the mouth of the cave, and in he came, driving the sheep
and goats and the rams also before him, for this time he let nothing
stay outside. He milked the sheep and the goats, as he had done the day
before; and then killed two more men, and began to eat them for his
supper.
Then Ulysses went towards him with a bottle full of wine, and said,
“Drink this wine, Polyphemus; it will make your supper taste much nicer;
I have brought it to you because I want you to do me some kindness in
return.” So the Cyclops stretched out his hand to take the wine, and
he drank it off greedily and asked for more. “Give me more of this
honey-sweet wine,” he said; “surely no grapes on this earth could ever
give such wine as this: tell me your name, for I should like to do you a
kindness for giving me such wine as this.” Then Ulysses said, “O Cyclops,
I hope you will not forget to give me what you have promised: my name is
Nobody.” And Polyphemus said, “Very well, I shall eat up Nobody last of
all, when I have eaten up all his companions; and this is the kindness
which I mean to do for him.” By this time he was so stupid with all he
had been eating and drinking, that he could say no more, but fell on his
back fast asleep; and his heavy snoring sounded through the whole of the
cave.
Then Ulysses cried to his friends, “Now is the time; come and help me,
and we will punish this Cyclops for all that he has done.” So he took the
piece of the olive-tree, which had been made sharp, and put it into the
fire, till it almost burst into a flame, and he and two of his men went
and stood over Polyphemus, and pushed the burning wood into his great eye
as hard and as far down as they could. It was a terrible sight to see;
but the Cyclops was so stupid and heavy in sleep that at first he could
scarcely stir. Presently he gave a great groan, so that Ulysses and his
people started back in a fright, and crouched down at the end of the
cave: and then the Cyclops put out his hand, drew the burning wood from
his eye, and threw it from him in a rage, and roared out for help to his
friends, who lived on the hills round about.
His roar was as deep and loud as the roar of twenty lions; and the other
Cyclopes wondered when they heard him shouting out so loud, and they
said, “What can be the matter with Polyphemus? We never heard him make
such a noise before: let us go and see if he wants any help.” So they
went to the cave, and stood outside the great stone which shut it in,
listening to his terrible bellowings; and when they did not stop they
shouted to him, and asked him what was the matter. “Why have you waked us
up in the middle of the night with all this noise, when we were sleeping
comfortably? Is any one taking away your sheep and goats, or killing you
by craft and force?”
And Polyphemus said, “Nobody, my friends, is killing me by craft and
force.”
When the others heard this they were angry, and said, “Well, then, if
nobody is killing you, why do you roar so? If you are ill, you must bear
it as best you can, and ask our father Neptune to make you well again;”
and then they walked off to their beds, and left Polyphemus to make as
much noise as he pleased.
It was of no use that he went on shouting. No one came to him any more;
and Ulysses laughed because he had tricked him so cunningly by calling
himself Nobody. Polyphemus got up at last, moaning and groaning with the
dreadful pain, and groped his way with his hands against the sides of
the cave until he came to the door. Then he took down the great stone,
and sat with his arms stretched out wide; and he said to himself, “Now I
shall be sure to catch them, for no one can get out without passing me.”
But Ulysses was too clever for him yet; for he went quietly, and fastened
the great rams of Polyphemus together with long bands of willow. He tied
them together by threes, and under the stomach of the middle one he tied
one of his men, until he had fastened them all up safely. Then he went
and caught hold of the largest ram of all, and clung on with his hands
to the thick wool underneath his stomach; and so they waited in a great
fright, lest after all the giant might catch and kill them.
At last the pale light of the morning came into the eastern sky, and very
soon the sheep and the goats began to go out of the cave. Polyphemus
passed his hands over the backs of all the sheep as they went by, but he
did not feel the willow bands, because their wool was long and thick,
and he never thought that any one would be tied up underneath their
stomachs. Last of all came the great ram to which Ulysses was clinging.
When Polyphemus passed his hand over his back, he stroked him gently and
said, “Is there something the matter with you too, as there is with your
master? You were always the first to go out of the cave, and now to-day
for the first time you are the last. I am sure that that horrible Nobody
is at the bottom of all this. Ah, old ram, perhaps it is that you are
sorry for your master, whose eye Nobody has put out. I wish you could
speak like a man, and tell me where he is. If I could but catch him, I
would take care that he never got away again, and then I should have some
comfort for all the evil which Nobody has done me.” So he sent the ram
on; and when he had gone a little way from the cave, Ulysses got up from
under the ram, and went and untied all his friends, and very glad they
were to be free once more, although they could not help grieving, when
they thought of the men whom Polyphemus had killed. But Ulysses told them
to make haste and drive as many of the sheep and goats as they could to
the ships. So they drove them down to the shore and hurried them into
the ships, and began to row away; and soon they would have been out of
the reach of the Cyclops, if Ulysses could only have held his tongue.
He was so angry himself, that he thought he would like to make Polyphemus
still more angry; so he shouted to him, “Cruel Cyclops, did you think
that you would not be punished for eating up my friends? Is this the way
in which you receive strangers who have been tossed about by many storms
upon the sea?”
Then Polyphemus was more furious than ever, and he broke off a great
rock from the mountain, and hurled it at Ulysses. On it came whizzing
through the air, and fell just in front of his ship, and the water was
dashed up all over it; and there was a great heaving of the sea, which
almost carried them back to the land. They began to row again with all
their might; but still, when they had got about twice as far as they
were before, Ulysses could not help shouting out a few more words to
Polyphemus. So he said, “If any one asks you how you lost your eye,
remember, mighty Cyclops, to say that you were made blind by Ulysses, the
plunderer of cities, the son of Laertes, who lives in Ithaca.”
Terrible indeed was the fury of Polyphemus when he heard this, and he
said: “Now I remember how the wise Telemus used to tell me that a man
would come here named Ulysses, who would put my eye out. But I thought
he would have been some great strong man, almost as big as myself; and
this is a miserable little wretch, whom I could almost hold in my hand
if I caught him. But stay, and I will show you how I thank you for your
kindness, and I will ask my father Neptune to send you a pleasant storm
to toss you about upon the dark sea.”
Then Polyphemus took up a bigger rock than ever, and hurled it high into
the air with all his might. But this time it fell just behind the ship
of Ulysses: up rose the water and drenched Ulysses and all his people,
and almost sank the ship under the sea. But it only sent them further out
of the reach of the Cyclops; and though he hurled more rocks after them,
they now fell far behind in the sea, and did them no harm.
Even when they had rowed a long way, they could still see Polyphemus
standing on the high cliff, and shaking his hands at them in rage and
pain. But no one came to help him for all his shouting because he had
told his friends that Nobody was doing him harm.
CIRCE’S PALACE
By Nathaniel Hawthorne
At one time in the course of his weary voyage, Ulysses arrived at an
island that looked very green and pleasant, but the name of which was
unknown to him. For, only a little while before he came thither, he had
met with a terrible hurricane, or rather a great many hurricanes at once,
which drove his fleet of vessels into a strange part of the sea, where
neither himself nor any of his mariners had ever sailed.
This misfortune was entirely owing to the foolish curiosity of his
shipmates, who, while Ulysses lay asleep, had untied some very bulky
leathern bags, in which they supposed a valuable treasure to be
concealed. But in each of these stout bags, King Æolus, the ruler of the
winds, had tied up a tempest and had given it to Ulysses to keep, in
order that he might be sure of a favorable passage homeward to Ithaca;
and when the strings were loosened, forth rushed the whistling blasts,
like air out of a blown bladder, whitening the sea with foam, and
scattering the vessels nobody could tell whither.
Immediately after escaping from this peril, a still greater one had
befallen him. Scudding before the hurricane, he reached a place, which,
as he afterwards found, was called Læstrygonia, where some monstrous
giants had eaten up many of his companions and had sunk every one of his
vessels, except that in which he himself sailed, by flinging great masses
of rock at them from the cliffs along the shore. After going through
such troubles as these, you cannot wonder that King Ulysses was glad to
moor his tempest-beaten bark in a quiet cove of the green island, which
I began with telling you about. But he had encountered so many dangers
from giants, and one-eyed Cyclopes, and monsters of the sea and land,
that he could not help dreading some mischief, even in this pleasant and
seemingly solitary spot. For two days, therefore, the poor weather-worn
voyagers kept quiet, and either stayed on board of their vessel, or
merely crept along under the cliffs that bordered the shore; and to keep
themselves alive, they dug shell-fish out of the sand, and sought for any
little rill of fresh water that might be running towards the sea.
Before the two days were spent, they grew very weary of this kind of
life; for the followers of King Ulysses, as you will find it important
to remember, were great eaters, and pretty sure to grumble if they
missed their regular meals, and their irregular ones besides. Their
stock of provisions was quite exhausted, and even the shell-fish began
to get scarce, so that they had now to choose between starving to
death or venturing into the interior of the island, where perhaps some
huge three-headed dragon, or other horrible monster, had his den. Such
misshapen creatures were very numerous in those days; and nobody ever
expected to make a voyage, or take a journey, without running more or
less risk of being devoured by them.
But King Ulysses was a bold man as well as a prudent one; and on the
third morning he determined to discover what sort of a place the island
was, and whether it were possible to obtain a supply of food for the
hungry mouths of his companions. So, taking a spear in his hand, he
clambered to the summit of a cliff, and gazed round about him. At a
distance, towards the center of the island, he beheld the stately towers
of what seemed to be a palace, built of snow-white marble, and rising
in the midst of a grove of lofty trees. The thick branches of these
trees stretched across the front of the edifice, and more than half
concealed it, although from the portion which he saw, Ulysses judged
it to be spacious and exceedingly beautiful, and probably the residence
of some great nobleman or prince. A blue smoke went curling up from the
chimney, and was almost the pleasantest part of the spectacle to Ulysses.
For, from the abundance of this smoke, it was reasonable to conclude
that there was a good fire in the kitchen, and that, at dinner-time, a
plentiful banquet would be served up to the inhabitants of the palace,
and to whatever guests might happen to drop in.
With so agreeable a prospect before him, Ulysses fancied that he could
not do better than to go straight to the palace gate, and tell the master
of it that there was a crew of poor shipwrecked mariners, not far off,
who had eaten nothing for a day or two, save a few clams and oysters, and
would therefore be thankful for a little food. And the prince or nobleman
must be a very stingy curmudgeon, to be sure, if at least, when his own
dinner was over, he would not bid them welcome to the broken victuals
from the table.
Pleasing himself with this idea, King Ulysses had made a few steps in the
direction of the palace, when there was a great twittering and chirping
from the branch of a neighboring tree. A moment afterwards, a bird came
flying towards him, and hovered in the air, so as almost to brush his
face with its wings. It was a very pretty little bird, with purple wings
and body, and yellow legs, and a circle of golden feathers round his
neck, and on its head a golden tuft, which looked like a king’s crown in
miniature. Ulysses tried to catch the bird. But it fluttered nimbly out
of his reach, still chirping in a piteous tone, as if it could have told
a lamentable story, had it only been gifted with human language. And when
he attempted to drive it away, the bird flew no farther than the bough of
the next tree, and again came fluttering about his head, with its doleful
chirp, as soon as he showed a purpose of going forward.
“Have you anything to tell me, little bird?” asked Ulysses.
And he was ready to listen attentively to whatever the bird might
communicate; for, at the siege of Troy, and elsewhere, he had known such
odd things to happen, that he would not have considered it much out of
the common run had this little feathered creature talked as plainly as
himself.
“Peep!” said the bird, “peep, peep, pe—weep!” And nothing else would it
say, but only, “Peep, peep, pe—weep!” in a melancholy cadence, and over
and over and over again. As often as Ulysses moved forward, however, the
bird showed the greatest alarm, and did its best to drive him back, with
the anxious flutter of its purple wings. Its unaccountable behavior made
him conclude, at last, that the bird knew of some danger that awaited
him, and which must needs be very terrible, beyond all question, since
it moved even a little fowl to feel compassion for a human being. So
he resolved, for the present, to return to the vessel, and tell his
companions what he had seen.
This appeared to satisfy the bird. As soon as Ulysses turned back, it
ran up the trunk of a tree, and began to pick insects out of the bark
with its long, sharp bill; for it was a kind of woodpecker, you must
know, and had to get its living in the same manner as other birds of that
species. But every little while, as it pecked at the bark of the tree,
the purple bird bethought itself of some secret sorrow, and repeated its
plaintive note of “Peep, peep, pe—weep!”
On his way to the shore, Ulysses had the good luck to kill a large stag
by thrusting his spear into its back. Taking it on his shoulders (for
he was a remarkably strong man), he lugged it along with him and flung
it down before his hungry companions. I have already hinted to you what
gormandisers some of the comrades of King Ulysses were. From what is
related of them, I reckon that their favorite diet was pork, and that
they had lived upon it until a good part of their physical substance was
swine’s flesh, and their tempers and dispositions were very much akin to
the hog. A dish of venison, however, was no unacceptable meal to them,
especially after feeding so long on oysters and clams. So, beholding the
dead stag, they felt of its ribs, in a knowing way, and lost no time in
kindling a fire of driftwood to cook it. The rest of the day was spent
in feasting; and if these enormous eaters got up from table at sunset,
it was only because they could not scrape another morsel off the poor
animal’s bones.
The next morning their appetites were as sharp as ever. They looked at
Ulysses, as if they expected him to clamber up the cliff again, and come
back with another fat deer upon his shoulders. Instead of setting out,
however, he summoned the whole crew together, and told them it was in
vain to hope that he could kill a stag every day for their dinner, and
therefore it was advisable to think of some other mode of satisfying
their hunger.
“Now,” said he, “when I was on the cliff, yesterday, I discovered that
this island is inhabited. At a considerable distance from the shore stood
a marble palace, which appeared to be very spacious, and had a great deal
of smoke curling out of one of its chimneys.”
“Aha!” muttered some of his companions, smacking their lips. “That smoke
must have come from the kitchen fire. There was a good dinner on the
spit; and no doubt there will be as good a one to-day.”
“But,” continued the wise Ulysses, “you must remember, my good friends,
our misadventure in the cavern of one-eyed Polyphemus, the Cyclops!
Instead of his ordinary milk diet, did he not eat up two of our comrades
for his supper, and a couple more for breakfast, and two at his supper
again? Methinks I see him yet, the hideous monster, scanning us with
that great red eye, in the middle of his forehead, to single out the
fattest. And then, again, only a few days ago did we not fall into the
hands of the King of the Læstrygons, and those other horrible giants, his
subjects, who devoured a great many more of us than are now left? To tell
you the truth, if we go to yonder palace, there can be no question that
we shall make our appearance at the dinner table; but whether seated as
guests, or served up as food, is a point to be seriously considered.”
“Either way,” murmured some of the hungriest of the crew, “it will be
better than starvation; particularly if one could be sure of being well
fattened beforehand, and daintily cooked afterwards.”
“That is a matter of taste,” said King Ulysses, “and, for my own part,
neither the most careful fattening nor the daintiest of cookery would
reconcile me to being dished at last. My proposal is, therefore, that we
divide ourselves into two equal parties, and ascertain, by drawing lots,
which of the two shall go to the palace, and beg for food and assistance.
If these can be obtained, all is well. If not, and if the inhabitants
prove as inhospitable as Polyphemus, or the Læstrygons, then there will
but half of us perish, and the remainder may set sail and escape.”
As nobody objected to this scheme, Ulysses proceeded to count the whole
band, and found that there were forty-six men, including himself. He
then numbered off twenty-two of them, and put Eurylochus (who was one
of his chief officers, and second only to himself in sagacity) at their
head. Ulysses took command of the remaining twenty-two men, in person.
Then, taking off his helmet, he put two shells into it, on one of which
was written “Go,” and on the other, “Stay.” Another person now held the
helmet, while Ulysses and Eurylochus drew out each a shell; and the
word “Go,” was found written on that which Eurylochus had drawn. In
this manner, it was decided that Ulysses and his twenty-two men were to
remain at the seaside until the other party should have found out what
sort of treatment they might expect at the mysterious palace. As there
was no help for it, Eurylochus immediately set forth at the head of his
twenty-two followers, who went off in a very melancholy state of mind,
leaving their friends in hardly better spirits than themselves.