Murray).
_Homer: Calypso_
Calypso is a statelier figure than Circe, although they have much in
common. Looking casually at the two characters, we are inclined to
wonder why Homer should have given them so many points of resemblance.
Both are immortals—Circe a daughter of the sun, and Calypso a daughter
of Atlas. Both are skilled in sorcery; both live on islands set far away
amidst the sea; both are ‘fair-tressed’ and beautiful and have sweet
singing voices; both love Odysseus and desire him for a husband.
But our first thought is corrected the instant we look at the two
goddesses a little more closely. In fact, the likeness between them only
helps us to realize the art which has given to each of them a distinct
individuality. We shall find that Calypso is gentler and more dignified;
a sweeter and more gracious creature than Circe. There is nothing
sinister or malign about her; and if she loves Odysseus, and strives to
keep him at her side, it is that she may make him immortal, like
herself. She has no evil intent toward him; and when the messenger of
Zeus bids her to release him, she sets herself the task of helping him
away. Odysseus has not now to pay a gruesome penalty for willing
bondage, as when he left Circe in Aeaea; but wins his way by Calypso’s
aid to the friendly land of Phæacia.
In a “far isle amid the sea” Calypso dwelt alone. The blue sky bent over
it to embrace the bluer sea; and round its base a spray of foam
perpetually laved the rocks with snowy fingers. Out of the sea tree-clad
cliffs rose steeply, and the scent of pines hung like incense in the
warm air. Deep chasms here and there rent the cliffs apart, and gave
access to the sea; but their sides were clothed with olives and trailing
vines; and far down below could be heard the whisper of a little stream
as it ran to join the murmuring waves on a strip of golden sand. At the
head of one of the ravines was Calypso’s cavern.
_Close to the cavern and clustered around it was growing a coppice;
Alder was there and poplar and cypress of delicate perfume.
Many a long-winged bird in the copse found covert at night-time,
Many a falcon and owl, and crook-billed chattering sea-crows,
Birds of the brine which busy themselves with a life on the ocean.
Here too, stretching in front of the hollow mouth of the cavern,
Trailed a luxuriant vine rich-laden with many a cluster.
Four bright runnels of water arose from a neighbouring fountain,
Each one nigh to the other but turned to a different channel.
Spreading around soft meadows with violets blossomed and parsley
Richly bedight—yea e’en an immortal, if haply he came there,
All might wondering view and rejoice in his heart to behold it._[10]
Here it was, then, that Calypso, standing one morning in the sunny
entrance to her cave, first saw Odysseus. The prophecy of Circe had been
fulfilled. His crew had impiously laid hands on the sacred Oxen of the
Sun, and smitten by an avenging storm sent by the wrathful Apollo, had
every one paid the penalty with his life. Odysseus only had been spared;
and for nine days and nights he had struggled alone with the waves on a
shattered raft.
_And on the tenth at night out of the sea
To that Far Island the Gods drifted me,
Calypso’s home, the fair-tressed mortal-voiced
Dread Goddess; and my friend and stay was she._[11]
Calypso rescued and tended the shipwrecked man who was thrown upon her
shores; and after his awful peril and hardship he was content to forget
everything for a time. Days and weeks and months slipped quickly past
and Odysseus remained, charmed by the beauty of the island and the
gracious society of Calypso. Sometimes, reclined on the yellow sands
where he had been washed ashore, she would listen eagerly to the tales
of his wanderings. Sometimes, when the evening breeze blew chill from
the sea, they would sit together in the cavern:
_Where from a brazier by her, burning well,
A fire of cloven cedar-wood and pine
Far through the island sent a goodly smell._
_And in it she with voice melodious sang,
While through the warp her golden shuttle rang
As to and fro before the loom she went._[11]
As Calypso sang her strange sweet melodies in the fire-lit gloom, the
memory of Ithaca and Penelope grew faint. But one day the spell was
broken. Standing on a cliff and looking out to sea, he suddenly
remembered home and wife and friends; and from that time onward he did
not cease to long and pray for release. But year after year dragged
wearily on, and Calypso tried by arts and endearments and promises of
deathless gifts, to win him to stay with her. All her persuasion was
fruitless, however, and Odysseus
_Sitting far apart
On the sea-beach, as oftentimes before,
Fretted with tears and sighs and bitter smart,_
_Out seaward to the barren ocean-rim
Kept gazing, and his eyes with tears were dim._[11]
Meanwhile, in high assembly of the gods upon Olympus, Athena the loyal
friend of Odysseus stood out and pleaded his cause before them all. This
austere daughter of great Zeus despised the wiles by which Calypso would
keep the hero at her side; and begged her father to release him.
“_But for Odysseus wise I am ill at ease,
That man unhappy who amid the seas
Far from his friends affliction bears for long,
Within the sea-girt island set with trees;_
“_The island in whose bounds a goddess dwells,
Daughter of Atlas of the guileful spells...._
“_But for his land Odysseus longs so sore
That even the smoke upcurling from its shore
Fain would he see and die...._
“_Did not Odysseus on the gods bestow
Guerdon of sacrifices long ago,
Down in wide Troy beside the Argive ships?
Why does your wrath, O Zeus, afflict him so?_“[11]
Zeus gently reproved his splendid daughter. Is it to be supposed that he
has forgotten wise Odysseus, famed for his piety, and the constant
friend of gods and men? But there are reasons—partly the foolishness and
rashness of the hero and his men—why all these delays and reverses have
fallen upon him; and but for Zeus they would have brought on him
destruction long ago. Athena may set her mind at rest, however: the hour
has come for his deliverance. The great Father of the Gods turned to his
messenger:
“_Hermes,—for ever as herald thou bear’st the behests of immortals—
Bring to the fair-tressed nymph our will’s immutable verdict,
Even that patient Odysseus return and arrive at his homeland....
Thus is he fated his friends once more to revisit and once more
Win to his high-roofed home and arrive at the land of his fathers._“[10]
Swift as light itself, Hermes sped down to Calypso’s island and passed
up through the flowering garden that embowered her cavern. He paused a
moment before entering, to let his glance roam over the peaceful beauty
of the scene and to breathe the delicious fragrance of the evening air.
_Till at the last, when his spirit was fully contented with gazing,
Into the wide-mouthed cavern he entered; and standing before her
Straightway known was the god to the beautiful goddess Calypso,
Seeing that never unknown is a deity unto another,
None of the spirits immortal, not e’en if he dwells at a distance._[10]
Calypso greeted him gladly, not divining the cruel message that he was
charged to deliver. And while she hospitably set before him the
deathless food of the gods, she eagerly inquired the reason of his
unwonted visit.
“_Why come you, Hermes of the Rod of Gold,
Gracious and dear? You come not oft of old.
Speak, and most gladly to my power will I
Do your desire, if fate have so controlled._“[11]
Hermes was reluctant to tell his errand, knowing the pain that it would
cause Calypso; and not until the meal was over did he reveal it. He had
come against his will, he said, with a decree of Zeus concerning the
hero whom she is detaining in her island. Odysseus must be released.
_So spake he; but aghast thereat his word
The bright of Goddesses Calypso heard,
And answering, spake a winged word to him:
“Jealous you are, O Gods, to envy stirred_
_“Beyond all others, and can never brook
On loves of Goddesses and men to look...._
_“Yet I it was who rescued him, while he
Clung round the keel, alone, when mightily
Zeus shattered with a fiery thunderbolt
His racing ship amid the purple sea._
_“There his good comrades perished; him alone
Hither by flood and driving tempest blown,
I loved and nourished, and had thought to keep,
Deathless and ageless always for my own.”_[11]
The love of Calypso, of which she spoke so simply and frankly to Hermes,
was something deeper than caprice. It was rooted in that heroic act when
she had toiled to drag him up out of the fiercely beating surf, and had
brought him back from the brink of death to the cheerful light of day.
She had given him his life, and her love with it; and ever since she had
striven to keep him at her side, thinking to win his love in return. But
she was no witch, to wreak evil spells over an unwilling heart; and
though the blow that Hermes had dealt her was a bitter one, she replied
with dignity. She would consent to the will of Zeus, not merely because
he might not be withstood, but because it was her desire to do good to
Odysseus.
“_Let him go hence across the barren sea;
Howbeit his convoy cannot come from me,
Since oared ships I have not to my hand,
Nor any mariners his crew to be_
“_Over the ridges of the broad sea-floor:
Yet will I gladly teach him all my lore,
And naught will hide of counsel, so that he
Free from all harm may reach his native shore._“[11]
So the Messenger of Zeus departed; and Calypso went sadly across the
island to the spot where she knew Odysseus was sitting. As she came near
she could see him, gazing out to sea, home-sick and despairing. So he
had sat this many a day, turning from her in coldness or in anger to go
and mourn for far-off Ithaca and his mortal wife. Why could he not be
content to remain with her? Was Penelope then so very beautiful—more
beautiful than she, a goddess? Had she not offered him immortality? Had
she not lavished tenderness upon him? And now she knew that at the first
word of her hateful news he would joyfully prepare to go, and leave her
alone with her regret. As she came up and stood by his side, her heart
was sore at the perversity of fate. But there was no rancour in it; and
having given her word, she would fulfil it generously. So she put her
hand upon his shoulder gently as he sat with averted face:
“_No more, unhappy man, sit mourning there,
Nor let your life be wasted; for to-day
Myself unasked your journey will prepare._
“_Up therefore, hew long beams, and skilfully
Fit them with tools a broad-floored raft to be;
And build aloft a spar-deck thereupon
To carry you across the misty sea._
“_But water I will store on it and bread,
And the red wine wherewith is comforted
Man’s heart, that you be stayed from famishing;
And lend you raiment; and your sail to spread_
“_Will send a following wind, that free from ill
Home you may win, if such indeed the will
Be of the Gods, who hold wide heaven, and are
Greater than I to purpose and fulfil._“[11]
The great good news was too wonderful for Odysseus to believe.
Bewildered and doubting, he forgot his usual courtesy, and uttered an
ungracious speech. Is she not deceiving him? Does she not intend some
evil?
“_Other is here thy device, O goddess—not homeward to send me—
While on a raft thou bidd’st me retraverse a gulf of the ocean
Such in its terrors and perils that never a well-built vessel
Voyaging swiftly and gladdened by Zeus-sent breezes will cross it.
Ne’er will I mount on a raft—still less if it give thee displeasure—
Art thou not willing to swear me an oath and solemnly promise
Never against me to plot a device that is evil to harm me._“[10]
Odysseus had suffered so much at the hands of angry gods that he could
not give credit to Calypso’s generosity. He suspected her of anger too;
and rather than risk the perils of an awful voyage like the last, he
would remain here upon the island. His words would have embittered a
smaller soul; but Calypso saw what was passing in his mind, and answered
him playfully:
“_The Goddess bright and bland
Calypso, smiling, stroked him with her hand,
and spoke a word and answered: “Verily
A rogue you are, and quick to understand,_
_Such words are these you have devised to say!”_[11]
And then, knowing that he was really apprehensive of danger, her voice
dropped to a deeper tone, as she gave him the solemn oath of the great
gods.
“_Now Earth I take to record here to-day,
And the wide heaven above us, and the dread
Water abhorred that trickles down alway,_
“_(Which is the mightiest and most dread to break
Of all the oaths the blessed Gods may take)
No practice for your hurt will I devise,
But take such thought and counsel for your sake_
“_As for mine own self I would reckon good,
If in the like extremity I stood.
For my own heart is righteous, nor my heart
Iron within me, but of piteous mood._“[11]
He was convinced at last; and together they went back to the cavern for
the evening meal. Calypso served to Odysseus his mortal food, and her
handmaidens set before her the deathless wine of the immortals. And
while they ate, she suddenly realized how soon she must part from him.
Her brave mood faded as she thought how lonely she would be when he had
gone; and thought too of the struggles which Odysseus had yet to make
before he reached his home. Again the haunting question came—Why need he
go at all? Why would he not stay with her? And though she knew there was
no hope, she pleaded with him once more.
“_Odysseus, may your longing nought withhold
To your own land so straightway to be gone?
Then fare you well; but had your heart foretold_
“_How many woes the fates for you decree
Before you reach your country, here with me
You had abode, and in this house had kept,
And been immortal, howso fain to see_
“_That wife for whom through all your days you pine:
Yet deem I not her beauty more than mine.
Since hardly mortal woman may compare
In shape and beauty with my race divine._“[11]
Odysseus had recovered his gallantry now. He begged Calypso not to be
wroth with him for desiring to go, and acknowledged that Penelope was by
no means so fair as she. As to the ill that he had still to suffer, he
would incline his heart to endurance: “And now, let this too follow
after, if it will.”
Under his courteous manner lay a stern resolve; and as soon as morning
came, Calypso set herself to prepare his going. Though her heart was
very sore, she helped him readily.
[Illustration:
CALYPSO & ODYSSEUS
_Patten Wilson_
]
_... The nymph threw round her a garment of glistering whiteness,
Delicate, lovely; and over her waist then fastened a girdle,
Beautiful, fashioned of gold; and her head in a hood she enveloped.
Then she bethought her to send on his way great-hearted Odysseus.
Firstly a great wood-axe, in his hands well-fitted, she gave him,
Fashioned of bronze, two-edged. ...
... and going before him
Led to an end of the isle where tall straight timber was growing;
Alder was there and poplar and pine which reacheth to heaven,
Dry long since, well-seasoned and buoyant to float on the water._[10]
Odysseus wrought joyfully at the raft, building with infinite care and
skill a strong, seaworthy vessel. Calypso brought out to him the store
of fair cloth that she had woven upon her loom, and of this he made the
sails, with “brace and sheet and halyard.” When all the strenuous toil
was completed, he drew the raft on rollers down to the sea and made
ready to sail.
_Now was the fourth day come, and all of his labour was ended;
So on the fifth day sped his departing the goddess Calypso,
Bathing him first and arraying him freshly in fragrant apparel.
Then to the raft she conveyed dark wine in a bottle of goat-skin
—One was of wine and another, a greater, of water—and viands
Stowed in a wallet; and many a toothsome relish she added.
Then did she send him a favouring breeze both gentle and kindly._[10]
So Calypso was left alone again on her little island; and Odysseus,
speeding before a favouring wind, was too absorbed to give much thought
to her. Freedom and the thought of home filled him with exultation; and
all his care was bent to navigate the boat. But a grateful memory of her
survived in aftertimes; and often he would recall her words to him, when
she had given him the vow of good faith:
_For my own mind is righteous, nor my heart
Iron within me, but of piteous mood._[11]
-----
Footnote 10:
From Mr H. B. Cotterill’s translation of the _Odyssey_ (Harrap & Co.).
Footnote 11:
From Professor J. W. Mackail’s translation of the _Odyssey_ (John
Murray).
_Homer: Nausicaa_
Nausicaa was the only daughter of Alcinous, King of Phaeacia. Young and
beautiful, reared amid abundant wealth, the idol of parents and stalwart
brothers, she is yet simple and sweet and quite unspoiled. Her father
was lord over a rich seafaring folk; a kindly, generous, impetuous man.
Her mother, Queen Arete, was a star among women; so wise and noble that
the people saluted her as a god, and Alcinous worshipped her with
absolute devotion. There is hardly anything in Homer more beautiful than
the loving description that Nausicaa gives of her mother sitting beside
Alcinous in the great hall like a benign goddess, ready to stretch a
welcoming hand to the stranger and the suppliant. Even the great goddess
Athena had words of praise for Arete, when she met Odysseus on the road
coming up from the harbour:
“_Her Alcinous took to wife,
And honoured her as living woman none_
“_Of wedded wives is honoured upon earth:
Such is the worship paid her (and her worth
No less) by King Alcinous our lord
And by the children who from them have birth._
“_Yea, all her people, when she goes abroad,
Salute her and account her as a god.
For of so excellent a wit is she,
Her woman’s wisdom puts a period_
“_To strife of men who in her favour stand.
And if to you she reach a helping hand,
Hope you may have to see your friends, and reach
Your high-roofed house, and your own native land._”[12]
Nausicaa, as we shall see, is worthy of her parentage. The gods were
gracious at her birth, and gave her the fine qualities of both father
and mother. Yet courage and resource and a wise generosity sit lightly
on the youthful figure that flits through the Sixth Book of the
_Odyssey_. She is a mere girl, fresh and untried, with an irresistible
gaiety of heart and a tender regard for home ties. Her changing moods
and caprices are like dancing sunlight, and now and then there falls
upon her a soft shadow of wistfulness, cast by the ‘long, long thoughts’
of youth.
Her pretty head holds its own romantic visions, which she cannot, from
girlish shyness, bring herself to talk about freely, even to the dear
indulgent father. So for fear of his teasing and laughter, she practises
a little harmless deceit on him; which, however, does not deceive him in
the least, because his love can look right through it.
So she moves before us, a creature of grace and beauty, of fineness and
strength; but withal so happy and human that the thought of her has the
bracing sweetness of upland meadows, or the breath of the summer sea.
Yet it is this fresh young girl whom we have to consider for a moment as
the unconscious rival of Penelope. The idea of such a rivalry seems
absurd, in connection with Nausicaa. And so it is, taken clumsily out of
its setting and robbed of the poet’s delicate art. Yet the suggestion is
clear; and the marvel is that Homer has contrived to bring her out of
the ordeal with her young innocence quite untouched. The beats of the
love-god’s wings only fan her in passing, and she is left unhurt by a
single barb. For a happy instant she glimpses him in flight, and
stretches a welcoming hand in naïve pleasure. But the moment after, he
has fled in jewelled light and she is left, wondering and wistful, but
scathless yet.
So Nausicaa lives, a peerless girl in Homer’s group of immortal women.
She has served his purpose in the epic plan—to link the story with
Penelope and to enhance her dignified maturity. She has served too, in
the strongest way, to accentuate the chivalry and constancy of the hero.
But in doing this, the tenderest care has been taken that she shall not
be despoiled of her exquisite charm.
* * * * *
Poseidon the Sea-god was still wrathful with Odysseus for the injury
done to his son, the Cyclops. But having gone on a long journey to the
land of the ‘blameless Æthiopians,’ Athena had compassed in his absence
the escape of the hero. He had sailed joyfully from Calypso’s island,
and for seventeen days had fared onward steadily, with a following wind.
The wine and food that Calypso had given him were still unspent, when on
the eighteenth day there loomed before him the island of Phaeacia, vast
and shadowy in the morning mist. Here, he knew, were friendly hands and
hearts; people who had never been known to refuse safe convoy to
distressed mariners. And Odysseus, feeling that now at last the end of
his struggles had come, steered straight ahead. But he reckoned without
Poseidon. For that angry god, speeding on his homeward journey from
Æthiopia to Olympus, looked down from the mountains of the Solymi and
spied the raft of Odysseus, making for the safety of a Phaeacian
harbour. Amazement smote him; then indignation, and then a furious
desire for instant revenge. So this was what the immortals had been
doing in his absence—plotting to befriend the man who had so foully
mis-used his son. But no matter! If Athena must needs win in the end—and
even the might of Poseidon could not eventually withstand her calm
wisdom—her success should be at bitter cost to this artful rascal whom
she favoured. So:
_The clouds at his command
Gathered, and with the trident in his hand
He stirred the sea and roused the hurricane
Of all the winds, and blotted sea and land_
_With clouds: night swept across the firmament:_
_... a monstrous wave abaft
Came towering up, and crashed into the raft:
And the raft reeled, and off it far he fell,
And from his hand shot out the rudder-shaft._[12]
It would take long to tell all that Odysseus suffered from that awful
storm. Only the lion-heart that he was could have endured the terrible
strain of it. The raft was lost, and for two days and nights the fury of
the storm lashed him unceasingly. He was buffeted out of his course, and
when at last a calm fell and he saw land ahead, he had only just enough
strength left to strike out for it, with a great prayer in his heart for
deliverance from the wrath of Poseidon.
It is this exciting incident, told with tremendous vigour, which is the
prelude to the story of Nausicaa. For on the very night when the waves
flung Odysseus ashore on her father’s island, she had a strange dream. A
goddess stood by her bedside, in the likeness of a girl friend; and with
hints of a happy marriage, bade her rise and go down to the washing
pools.
_The grey-eyed Goddess, inly counselling
Odysseus mighty-hearted home to bring;
To the richly-carven chamber went
Where slept a maid, the daughter of the king,_
_Like any deathless goddess fair and bright,
Nausicaa....
... “Nausicaa,” said she, “why
Thus idly does your mother’s daughter lie,
The garments wrought with bright embroideries
Unheeded? yet your wedding-day draws nigh;_
_When clad in goodly raiment you must go,
And on your marriage train the like bestow._
· · · · ·
_Not long shall yet your maidenhood be worn.
Even now, amid the land where you were born,
Phaeacia’s princes woo you. Up, and bid
My lord your father yoke at break of morn_
_A mule-team and a cart whereon to lay
Girdles and gowns and broidered blankets gay.”_[12]
We who are watching behind the scenes know quite well who is this
celestial visitor; and that the whispered words which have set
Nausicaa’s cheeks tingling are a mere ruse of Athena to bring help to
the luckless Odysseus. But Nausicaa has no hint of this; and waking with
the morning sun streaming upon her, she smiles in wonder and hope. Then
she dresses quickly and goes down to find her parents, musing upon the
words of the goddess. The queen is sitting in the great hall, amid her
handmaidens, winding the ‘dim sea-purple’; and the king, coming out to
join the princes in council, meets Nausicaa on the threshold. Is there
anywhere a more charming scene than this?