princess Cassandra hesitated and stood by in fear. Poor Cassandra! Her
kindred were slain and the doom of her city was fulfilled, but the
curse of prophecy still followed her. She felt the shadow of coming
evil, and there before the door she recoiled, and cried out that there
was blood in the air. At length, despairing of her fate, she too went
in. Even while the Argives stood about the gates, pitying her madness,
the prophecy came true.
Clytemnestra, like any anxious wife, had led the travel-worn king to a
bath; and there, when he had laid by his arms, she and Aegisthus threw
a net over him, as they would have snared any beast of prey, and slew
him, defenceless. In the same hour Cassandra, too, fell into their
hands, and they put an end to her warnings. So died the chief of the
great army and his royal captive.
The murderers proclaimed themselves king and queen before all the
people, and none dared rebel openly against such terrible authority.
But Aegisthus was still uneasy at the thought that the Prince Orestes
might return some day to avenge his father. Indeed, Electra had sent
from time to time secret messages to Phocis, entreating her brother to
come and take his rightful place, and save her from her cruel mother
and Aegisthus. But there came to Argos one day a rumor that Orestes
himself had died in Phocis, and the poor princess gave up all hope of
peace; while Clytemnestra and Aegisthus made no secret of their relief,
but even offered impious thanks in the temple, as if the gods were of
their mind! They were soon undeceived.
Two young Phocians came to the palace with news of the last days of
Orestes, so they said; and they were admitted to the presence of the
king and queen. They were, in truth, Orestes himself and his friend
Pylades (son of King Strophius), who had ventured safety and all to
avenge Agamemnon. Then and there Orestes killed Aegisthus and
Clytemnestra, and appeared before the Argives as their rightful prince.
But not even so did he find peace. In slaying Clytemnestra, wicked as
she was, he had murdered his own mother, a deed hateful to gods and
men. Day and night he was haunted by the Furies.
These dread sisters never leave Hades save to pursue and torture some
guilty conscience. They wear black raiment, like the wings of a bat;
their hair writhes with serpents fierce as remorse, and in their hands
they carry flaming torches that make all shapes look greater and more
fearful than they are. No sleep can soothe the mind of him they follow.
They come between his eyes and the daylight; at night their torches
drive away all comfortable darkness. Poor Orestes, though he had
punished two murderers, felt that he was no less a murderer himself.
From land to land he wandered in despair that grew to madness, with one
only comrade, the faithful Pylades, who was his very shadow. At length
he took refuge in Athens, under the protection of Athena, and gave
himself up to be tried by the court of the Areopagus. There he was
acquitted; but not all the Furies left him, and at last he besought the
Oracle of Apollo to befriend him.
"Go to Tauris, in Scythia," said the voice, "and bring from thence the
image of Diana which fell from the heavens." So he set out with his
Pylades and sailed to the shore of Scythia.
Now the Taurians were a savage people, who strove to honor Diana, to
their rude minds, by sacrificing all the strangers that fell into their
hands. There was a temple not far from the seaside, and its priestess
was a Grecian maiden, one Iphigenia, who had miraculously appeared
there years before, and was held in especial awe by Thoas, the king of
the country round about. Sorely against her will, she had to hallow the
victims offered at this shrine; and into her presence Orestes and
Pylades were brought by the men who had seized them.
On learning that they were Grecians and Argives (for they withheld
their names), the priestess was moved to the heart. She asked them many
questions concerning the fate of Agamemnon, Clytemnestra, and the
warriors against Troy, which they answered as best they could. At
length she said that she would help one of them to escape, if he would
swear to take a message from her to one in Argos.
"My friend shall bear it home," said Orestes. "As for me, I stay and
endure my fate."
"Nay," said Pylades; "how can I swear? for I might lose this letter by
shipwreck or some other mischance."
"Hear the message, then," said the high-priestess. "And thou wilt keep
it by thee with thy life. To Orestes, son of Agamemnon, say Iphigenia,
his sister, is dead indeed unto her parents, but not to him. Say that
Diana has had charge over her these many years since she was snatched
away at Aulis, and that she waits until her brother shall come to
rescue her from this duty of bloodshed and take her home."
At these words their amazement knew no bounds. Orestes embraced his
lost sister and told her all his story, and the three, breathless with
eagerness, planned a way of escape.
The king of Tauris had already come to witness the sacrifice. But
Iphigenia took in her hands the sacred image of Diana, and went out to
tell him that the rites must be delayed. One of the strangers, said
she, was guilty of the murder of his mother, the other sharing his
crime; and these unworthy victims must be cleansed with pure sea-water
before they could be offered to Diana. The sacred image had been
desecrated by their touch, and that, too, must be solemnly purged by no
other hands than hers.
To this the king consented. He remained to burn lustral fires in the
temple; the people withdrew to their houses to escape pollution, and
the priestess with her victims reached the seaside in safety.
Once there, with the sacred image which was to bring them good fortune,
they hastened to the Grecian galley and put off from that desolate
shore. So, with his new-found sister and his new hope, Orestes went
over the seas to Argos, to rebuild the honor of the royal house.
THE ADVENTURES OF ODYSSEUS.
I. THE CURSE OF POLYPHEMUS.
Of all the heroes that wandered far and wide before they came to their
homes again after the fall of Troy, none suffered so many hardships as
Odysseus.
There was, indeed, one other man whose adventures have been likened to
his, and this was Aeneas, a Trojan hero. He escaped from the burning
city with a band of fugitives, his countrymen; and after years of peril
and wandering he came to found a famous race in Italy. On the way, he
found one hospitable resting-place in Carthage, where Queen Dido
received him with great kindliness; and when he left her she took her
own life, out of very grief.
But there were no other hardships such as beset Odysseus, between the
burning of Troy and his return to Ithaca, west of the land of Greece.
Ten years did he fight against Troy, but it was ten years more before
he came to his home and his wife Penelope and his son Telemachus.
Now all these latter years of wandering fell to his lot because of
Poseidon's anger against him. For Poseidon had favored the Grecian
cause, and might well have sped home this man who had done so much to
win the Grecian victory. But as evil destiny would have it, Odysseus
mortally angered the god of the sea by blinding his son, the Cyclops
Polyphemus. And thus it came to pass.
Odysseus set out from Troy with twelve good ships. He touched first at
Ismarus, where his first misfortune took place, and in a skirmish with
the natives he lost a number of men from each ship's crew. A storm then
drove them to the land of the Lotus-Eaters, a wondrous people, kindly
and content, who spend their lives in a day-dream and care for nothing
else under the sun. No sooner had the sailors eaten of this magical
lotus than they lost all their wish to go home, or to see their wives
and children again. By main force, Odysseus drove them back to the
ships and saved them from the spell.
Thence they came one day to a beautiful strange island, a verdant place
to see, deep with soft grass and well watered with springs. Here they
ran the ships ashore, and took their rest and feasted for a day. But
Odysseus looked across to the mainland, where he saw flocks and herds,
and smoke going up softly from the homes of men; and he resolved to go
across and find out what manner of people lived there. Accordingly,
next morning, he took his own ship's company and they rowed across to
the mainland.
Now, fair as the place was, there dwelt in it a race of giants, the
Cyclopes, great rude creatures, having each but one eye, and that in
the middle of his forehead. One of them was Polyphemus, the son of
Poseidon. He lived by himself as a shepherd, and it was to his cave
that Odysseus came, by some evil chance. It was an enormous grotto, big
enough to house the giant and all his flocks, and it had a great
courtyard without. But Odysseus, knowing nought of all this, chose out
twelve men, and with a wallet of corn and a goatskin full of wine they
left the ship and made a way to the cave, which they had seen from the
water.
Much they wondered who might be the master of this strange house.
Polyphemus was away with his sheep, but many lambs and kids were penned
there, and the cavern was well stored with goodly cheeses and cream and
whey.
Without delay, the wearied men kindled a fire and sat down to eat such
things as they found, till a great shadow came dark against the
doorway, and they saw the Cyclops near at hand, returning with his
flocks. In an instant they fled into the darkest corner of the cavern.
Polyphemus drove his flocks into the place and cast off from his
shoulders a load of young trees for firewood. Then he lifted and set in
the entrance of the cave a gigantic boulder of a door-stone. Not until
he had milked the goats and ewes and stirred up the fire did his
terrible one eye light upon the strangers.
"What are ye?" he roared then, "robbers or rovers?" And Odysseus alone
had heart to answer.
"We are Achaeans of the army of Agamemnon," said he. "And by the will
of Zeus we have lost our course, and are come to you as strangers.
Forget not that Zeus has a care for such as we, strangers and
suppliants."
Loud laughed the Cyclops at this. "You are a witless churl to bid me
heed the gods!" said he. "I spare or kill to please myself and none
other. But where is your cockle-shell that brought you hither?"
Then Odysseus answered craftily: "Alas, my ship is gone! Only I and my
men escaped alive from the sea."
But Polyphemus, who had been looking them over with his one eye, seized
two of the mariners and dashed them against the wall and made his
evening meal of them, while their comrades stood by helpless. This
done, he stretched himself through the cavern and slept all night long,
taking no more heed of them than if they had been flies. No sleep came
to the wretched seamen, for, even had they been able to slay him, they
were powerless to move away the boulder from the door. So all night
long Odysseus took thought how they might possibly escape.
At dawn the Cyclops woke, and his awakening was like a thunderstorm.
Again he kindled the fire, again he milked the goats and ewes, and
again he seized two of the king's comrades and served them up for his
terrible repast. Then the savage shepherd drove his flocks out of the
cave, only turning back to set the boulder in the doorway and pen up
Odysseus and his men in their dismal lodging.
But the wise king had pondered well. In the sheepfold he had seen a
mighty club of olive-wood, in size like the mast of a ship. As soon as
the Cyclops was gone, Odysseus bade his men cut off a length of this
club and sharpen it down to a point. This done, they hid it away under
the earth that heaped the floor; and they waited in fear and torment
for their chance of escape.
At sundown, home came the Cyclops. Just as he had done before, he drove
in his flocks, barred the entrance, milked the goats and ewes, and made
his meal of two more hapless men, while their fellows looked on with
burning eyes. Then Odysseus stood forth, holding a bowl of the wine
that he had brought with him; and, curbing his horror of Polyphemus, he
spoke in friendly fashion: "Drink, Cyclops, and prove our wine, such as
it was, for all was lost with our ship save this. And no other man will
ever bring you more, since you are such an ungentle host."
The Cyclops tasted the wine and laughed with delight so that the cave
shook. "Ho, this is a rare drink!" said he. "I never tasted milk so
good, nor whey, nor grape-juice either. Give me the rest, and tell me
your name, that I may thank you for it."
Twice and thrice Odysseus poured the wine and the Cyclops drank it off;
then he answered: "Since you ask it, Cyclops, my name is Noman."
"And I will give you this for your wine, Noman," said the Cyclops; "you
shall be eaten last of all!"
As he spoke his head drooped, for his wits were clouded with drink, and
he sank heavily out of his seat and lay prone, stretched along the
floor of the cavern. His great eye shut and he fell asleep.
Odysseus thrust the stake under the ashes till it was glowing hot; and
his fellows stood by him, ready to venture all. Then together they
lifted the club and drove it straight into the eye of Polyphemus and
turned it around and about.
The Cyclops gave a horrible cry, and, thrusting away the brand, he
called on all his fellow-giants near and far. Odysseus and his men hid
in the uttermost corners of the cave, but they heard the resounding
steps of the Cyclopes who were roused, and their shouts as they called,
"What ails thee, Polyphemus? Art thou slain? Who has done thee any
hurt?"
"Noman!" roared the blinded Cyclops; "Noman is here to slay me by
treachery."
"Then if no man hath hurt thee," they called again, "let us sleep." And
away they went to their homes once more.
But Polyphemus lifted away the boulder from the door and sat there in
the entrance, groaning with pain and stretching forth his hands to feel
if any one were near. Then, while he sat in double darkness, with the
light of his eye gone out, Odysseus bound together the rams of the
flock, three by three, in such wise that every three should save one of
his comrades. For underneath the mid ram of each group a man clung,
grasping his shaggy fleece; and the rams on each side guarded him from
discovery. Odysseus himself chose out the greatest ram and laid hold of
his fleece and clung beneath his shaggy body, face upward.
Now, when dawn came, the rams hastened out to pasture, and Polyphemus
felt of their backs as they huddled along together; but he knew not
that every three held a man bound securely. Last of all came the kingly
ram that was dearest to his rude heart, and he bore the King of Ithaca.
Once free of the cave, Odysseus and his fellows loosed their hold and
took flight, driving the rams in haste to the ship, where, without
delay, they greeted their comrades and went aboard.
But as they pushed from shore, Odysseus could not refrain from hailing
the Cyclops with taunts, and at the sound of that voice Polyphemus came
forth from his cave and hurled a great rock after the ship. It missed
and upheaved the water like an earthquake. Again Odysseus called,
saying: "Cyclops, if any shall ask who blinded thine eye, say that it
was Odysseus, son of Laertes of Ithaca."
Then Polyphemus groaned and cried: "An Oracle foretold it, but I waited
for some man of might who should overcome me by his valor,--not a
weakling! And now"--he lifted his hands and prayed,--"Father Poseidon,
my father, look upon Odysseus, the son of Laertes of Ithaca, and grant
me this revenge,--let him never see Ithaca again! Yet, if he must, may
he come late, without a friend, after long wandering, to find evil
abiding by his hearth!"
So he spoke and hurled another rock after them, but the ship
outstripped it, and sped by to the island where the other good ships
waited for Odysseus. Together they put out from land and hastened on
their homeward voyage.
But Poseidon, who is lord of the sea, had heard the prayer of his son,
and that homeward voyage was to wear through ten years more, with storm
and irksome calms and misadventure.
II. THE WANDERING OF ODYSSEUS.
Now Odysseus and his men sailed on and on till they came to Aeolia,
where dwells the king of the winds, and here they came nigh to good
fortune.
Aeolus received them kindly, and at their going he secretly gave to
Odysseus a leathern bag in which all contrary winds were tied up
securely, that only the favoring west wind might speed them to Ithaca.
Nine days the ships went gladly before the wind, and on the tenth day
they had sight of Ithaca, lying like a low cloud in the west. Then, so
near his haven, the happy Odysseus gave up to his weariness and fell
asleep, for he had never left the helm. But while he slept his men saw
the leathern bag that he kept by him, and, in the belief that it was
full of treasure, they opened it. Out rushed the ill-winds!
In an instant the sea was covered with white caps; the waves rose
mountain high; the poor ships struggled against the tyranny of the gale
and gave way. Back they were driven,--back, farther and farther; and
when Odysseus woke, Ithaca was gone from sight, as if it had indeed
been only a low cloud in the west!
Straight to the island of Aeolus they were driven once more. But when
the king learned what greed and treachery had wasted his good gift, he
would give them nothing more. "Surely thou must be a man hated of the
gods, Odysseus," he said, "for misfortune bears thee company. Depart
now; I may not help thee."
So, with a heavy heart, Odysseus and his men departed. For many days
they rowed against a dead calm, until at length they came to the land
of the Laestrygonians. And, to cut a piteous tale short, these giants
destroyed all their fleet save one ship,--that of Odysseus himself,
and in this he made escape to the island of Circe. What befell there,
how the greedy seamen were turned into swine and turned back into men,
and how the sorceress came to befriend Odysseus,--all this has been
related.
There in Aeaea the voyagers stayed a year before Circe would let them
go. But at length she bade Odysseus seek the region of Hades, and ask
of the sage Tiresias how he might ever return to Ithaca. How Odysseus
followed this counsel, none may know; but by some mysterious journey,
and with the aid of a spell, he came to the borders of Hades. There he
saw and spoke with many renowned Shades, old and young, even his own
friends who had fallen on the plain of Troy. Achilles he saw, Patroclus
and Ajax and Agamemnon, still grieving over the treachery of his wife.
He saw, too, the phantom of Heracles, who lives with honor among the
gods, and has for his wife Hebe, the daughter of Zeus and Juno. But
though he would have talked with the heroes for a year and more, he
sought out Tiresias.
"The anger of Poseidon follows thee," said the sage. "Wherefore,
Odysseus, thy return is yet far off. But take heed when thou art come
to Thrinacia, where the sacred kine of the Sun have their pastures. Do
them no hurt, and thou shalt yet come home. _But if they be harmed in
any wise_, ruin shall come upon thy men; and even if thou escape, thou
shalt come home to find strange men devouring thy substance and wooing
thy wife."
With this word in his mind, Odysseus departed and came once more to
Aeaea. There he tarried but a little time, till Circe had told him all
the dangers that beset his way. Many a good counsel and crafty warning
did she give him against the Sirens that charm with their singing, and
against the monster Scylla and the whirlpool Charybdis, and the
Clashing Rocks, and the cattle of the Sun. So the king and his men set
out from the island of Aeaea.
Now very soon they came to the Sirens who sing so sweetly that they
lure to death every man who listens. For straightway he is mad to be
with them where they sing; and alas for the man that would fly without
wings!
But when the ship drew near the Sirens' island, Odysseus did as Circe
had taught him. He bade all his shipmates stop up their ears with
moulded wax, so that they could not hear. He alone kept his hearing:
but he had himself lashed to the mast so that he could in no wise move,
and he forbade them to loose him, however he might plead, under the
spell of the Sirens.
As they sailed near, his soul gave way. He heard a wild sweetness
coaxing the air, as a minstrel coaxes the harp; and there, close by,
were the Sirens sitting in a blooming meadow that hid the bones of men.
Beautiful, winning maidens they looked; and they sang, entreating
Odysseus by name to listen and abide and rest. Their voices were
golden-sweet above the sound of wind and wave, like drops of amber
floating on the tide; and for all his wisdom, Odysseus strained at his
bonds and begged his men to let him go free. But they, deaf alike to
the song and the sorcery, rowed harder than ever. At length, song and
island faded in the distance. Odysseus came to his wits once more, and
his men loosed his bonds and set him free.
But they were close upon new dangers. No sooner had they avoided the
Clashing Rocks (by a device of Circe's) than they came to a perilous
strait. On one hand they saw the whirlpool where, beneath a hollow
fig-tree, Charybdis sucks down the sea horribly. And, while they sought
to escape her, on the other hand monstrous Scylla upreared from the
cave, snatched six of their company with her six long necks, and
devoured them even while they called upon Odysseus to save them.
So, with bitter peril, the ship passed by and came to the island of
Thrinacia; and here are goodly pastures for the flocks and herds of the
Sun. Odysseus, who feared lest his men might forget the warning of
Tiresias, was very loath to land. But the sailors were weary and worn
to the verge of mutiny, and they swore, moreover, that they would never
lay hands on the sacred kine. So they landed, thinking to depart next
day. But with the next day came a tempest that blew for a month without
ceasing, so that they were forced to beach the ship and live on the
island with their store of corn and wine. When that was gone they had
to hunt and fish, and it happened that, while Odysseus was absent in
the woods one day, his shipmates broke their oath. "For," said they,
"when we are once more in Ithaca we will make amends to Helios with
sacrifice. But let us rather drown than waste to death with hunger." So
they drove off the best of the cattle of the Sun and slew them. When
the king returned, he found them at their fateful banquet; but it was
too late to save them from the wrath of the gods.
As soon as they were fairly embarked once more, the Sun ceased to
shine. The sea rose high, the thunderbolt of Zeus struck that ship, and
all its company was scattered abroad upon the waters. Not one was left
save Odysseus. He clung to a fragment of his last ship, and so he
drifted, borne here and there, and lashed by wind and wave, until he
was washed up on the strand of the island Ogygia, the home of the nymph
Calypso. He was not to leave this haven for seven years.
Here, after ten years of war and two of wandering, he found a kindly
welcome. The enchanted island was full of wonders, and the nymph
Calypso was more than mortal fair, and would have been glad to marry
the hero; yet he pined for Ithaca. Nothing could win his heart away
from his own country and his own wife Penelope, nothing but Lethe
itself, and that no man may drink till he dies.
So for seven years Calypso strove to make him forget his longing with
ease and pleasant living and soft raiment. Day by day she sang to him
while she broidered her web with gold; and her voice was like a golden
strand that twines in and out of silence, making it beautiful. She even
promised that she would make him immortal, if he would stay and be
content; but he was heartsick for home.
At last his sorrow touched even the heart of Athena in heaven, for she
loved his wisdom and his many devices. So she besought Zeus and all the
other gods until they consented to shield Odysseus from the anger of
Poseidon. Hermes himself bound on his winged sandals and flew down to
Ogygia, where he found Calypso at her spinning. After many words, the
nymph consented to give up her captive, for she was kind of heart, and
all her graces had not availed to make him forget his home. With her
help, Odysseus built a raft and set out upon his lonely voyage,--the
only man remaining out of twelve good ships that had left Troy nigh
unto ten years before.