Thetis; for the latter, though a goddess, is perfectly human in her
devotion to her fated son, Achilles. To her he goes for comfort, and she
is ever resourceful in responding to his wants. She weeps over his
destiny, but, since he has chosen the better part, she nobly supports
him in every struggle. Hecuba is truly the companion of her husband,
King Priam, associated with him in his projects, and sharing his
counsels. She has borne him nineteen children, and these she has seen
slain, one after another, by the hand of the foe. Hector is her favorite
son, in whose courage she recognizes the bulwark of Ilium. When she sees
him exposed to certain death, her anxiety overcomes her pride and she
beseeches him to come within the walls; and when at last her son has
succumbed, we find in her the same mingling of grief and of pride. Her
wild despair seems to be assuaged by the thought that her son died
gloriously. This heroic sentiment sustains her before the corpse of
Hector, and even in her lamentation she voices her calm courage.
IV
WOMEN OF THE ODYSSEY
Ten years have passed since the fall of Ilium, and the various heroes of
the Greeks have met with diverse fortunes. Agamemnon, king of men, has
returned to his fatherland, but merely to find treason and death at the
hands of AEgisthus, the new lord of Clytemnestra, his wife. Menelaus,
after long wanderings, especially in Egypt, has reestablished his
kingdom in Sparta, with Helen as his queen. Odysseus, King of Ithaca,
had the longest and most perilous voyage homeward, and, after meeting
with various misadventures, has been detained for nearly eight long
years, consuming his own heart, in the island paradise of Calypso,
Meanwhile, on his own island, Ithaca, things have begun to go amiss. The
island chiefs, men of the younger generation, begin to woo Penelope and
to harass her son, Telemachus. The wooers, after being rebuffed for
years by the fair queen, are becoming insolent, quartering themselves
upon her, and devouring her substance. At this time the action of the
Odyssey begins.
The determined time has now arrived when, by the counsels of the gods,
Odysseus is to be brought home to free his house, to avenge himself on
the wooers, and to recover his kingdom, Pallas Athena is the chief
agent in the restoration of Odysseus to his fatherland. She beseeches
Zeus that he may be delivered, and in accordance with this prayer Hermes
is sent to Calypso to bid her release Odysseus. Meanwhile, the goddess,
in human form, visits Telemachus in Ithaca, and urges the young prince
to withstand the suitors who are devastating his house, and to go in
search of his father. Touched by the words of the goddess, youth rapidly
gives way to manhood, and Telemachus determines to assert his rights and
to find his father.
After the departure of the goddess, the prince enters the court where
the suitors are gathered, listening to the singing of the renowned
minstrel Phemius; and his song was of the pitiful return of the Achaeans.
We now have our first vision of discreet Penelope. From her upper
chamber she hears the glorious strain, and she descends the high stairs
from her apartments, accompanied by two of her handmaids. "Now, when the
fair lady had come unto the wooers, she stood by the doorpost of the
well-builded roof, holding up her glistening tire before her face; and a
faithful maiden stood on either side of her." She begs Phemius to cease
from this sorrowful strain, which wastes her heart within her breast,
since to her, above all women, hath come a sorrow comfortless, because
she holds in constant memory so dear a head,--even that man whose fame
is noised abroad from Hellas to mid-Argos. Telemachus gently rebukes his
mother for interrupting the song of the minstrel, and bids her return to
her chamber and to her own housewiferies, the loom and distaff, and bid
the handmaids ply their tasks. Then in amaze she goes back to her
chamber, for she lays up the wise saying of her son in her heart. She
ascends to the upper chamber with the women, her handmaids, and there
bewails Odysseus, her dear lord, till gray-eyed Athena casts sweet sleep
upon her eyelids.
Telemachus begins to assert himself before the violent suitors. When
night falls and each goes to his own house to lie down to rest, the
young prince is attended to his chamber by the aged Euryclea, who had
nursed him when a little one. She bears the burning torches, and
prepares the chamber for her young master; and when he takes off his
soft doublet, she folds and smooths it and hangs it on a pin by the
jointed bedstead. Then she goes forth from the room, and there, all
night long, wrapped in a fleece of wool, Telemachus meditates in his
heart upon the journey that Athena has shown him.
The next day, after a stormy meeting of the assembly, Telemachus
secretly sets sail for Pylus, accompanied by the goddess Athena, in the
form of Mentor. Only Euryclea, the youth's faithful nurse, knows of his
journey, and she has taken a great oath not to reveal it to his mother
till the eleventh or twelfth day. Nestor graciously receives Telemachus
at Pylus, and, as he himself has no news of Odysseus, sends him on to
Sparta, to King Menelaus, in the company of his own son, Pisistratus.
The young men are graciously received by Menelaus and Helen, and
Telemachus learns that Odysseus was a captive on an island of the deep
in the halls of the nymph Calypso.
Meanwhile, the suitors in Ithaca learn of Telemachus's departure and lay
an ambush to intercept him on his return. Discreet Penelope, too, learns
by chance of his absence, and of the plots of the wooers, and her heart
melts within her at the thought of danger to her child. The good nurse
Euryclea tells her of Telemachus's plan, and lulls her queen's grief.
Penelope returns to her chamber and prays to Athena to save her dear son
and ward off from him the malice of the suitors. As she lies there in
her upper chamber, fasting, and tasting neither meat nor drink, and
musing over the fate of her dear son, gray-eyed Athena makes a phantom
in the likeness of Penelope's sister, Iphthime, and sends her to comfort
Penelope amid her sorrow and lamenting. Reassured by the phantom
concerning her son, the devoted matron begs for news of her husband,
pleading to know whether he be alive or dead, but this information is
denied her. Yet the heart of the disconsolate wife and mother is
cheered, so sweet was the vision that came to her in the dead of night.
Homer now transports us to an assembly of the gods. Athena tells the
tale of the many woes of Odysseus, and Zeus commands Hermes, the
messenger god, to bid Calypso release Odysseus and start him on his
voyage to the Phaeacians, who are destined to return the wanderer to his
own dear country. Hermes quickly reaches the far-off isle of Ogygia,
where was the grotto of the nymph of the braided tresses. The fair
goddess at once knows him, and, after giving him entertainment, inquires
his message. Calypso regretfully and well-nigh rebelliously receives the
command of Zeus, and complains of the jealousy of the gods, who forbid
goddesses openly to mate with men. Yet, as none can make void the
purpose of Zeus, she will obey the command. Hermes departs, and the
nymph goes on her way to the great-hearted Odysseus. She finds him
sitting on the shore; his eyes were never dry of tears, his sweet life
was ebbing away as he mourned for his return, and through his tears he
looked wistfully over the unharvested deep. Calypso bids him sorrow no
more, for she will send him away, and directs him how to prepare a barge
on which to make the voyage. Four days are devoted to the making of the
barge, and on the fifth the goddess sends him on his way, providing him
with food and drink for his journey, and causing a gentle wind to blow.
Goodly Odysseus joyously sets his sail to the breeze, and keeps his eye
on the star Orion, which the fair goddess had bidden him to keep ever on
his left as he traverses the deep.
Seventeen days he sails placidly along, and on the eighteenth appear the
shadowy hills of the land of the Phaeacians, whither he is bound. Then
spies him his old enemy, Poseidon, and the earth shaker gathers the
clouds and rouses the storms, and down speeds night from heaven. The
great waves smite down upon Odysseus, and he loses the helm from his
hand and the mast is broken. He is thrown from his raft; but, again
clutching it, clambers upon it, avoiding grim death. Woman is again
destined to be the means of salvation for the hero. Ino of the fair
ankles, daughter of Cadmus, in time past a mortal maiden, but now a sea
nymph, Leucothea, marks his dire straits and takes pity upon him, and
gives him her veil to wind about him when he throws himself into the
deep. When his raft is at last broken asunder, he wraps the veil about
him; and for two days and nights it bears him up until at length he
makes the rugged shore. Throwing the veil into the stream, to be wafted
back to fair-ankled Ino, Odysseus, bruised and battered, clambers among
the reeds on the bank. He finds a resting place underneath two olive
trees, and Athena sheds sweet sleep upon his eyelids.
That same night, the daughter of the king of the Phaeacians, Nausicaa,
beautiful like the goddesses, was sleeping in a sumptuous chamber. For
it was to the island domain of King Alcinous, Scheria, land of the
Phaeacians, that Odysseus had come. To the palace of the king went
Athena, devising a return for the great-hearted Odysseus.
"She betook her to the rich-wrought bower, wherein was sleeping a maiden
like to the gods in form and comeliness, Nausicaa, the daughter of
Alcinous, high of heart. Beside her, on each hand of the pillars of the
door, were two handmaids, dowered with beauty from the Graces, and the
shining doors were shut.
"But the goddess, fleet as the breath of the wind, swept toward the
couch of the maiden, and stood above her head."
In the semblance of Nausicaa's favorite girl friend and comrade, the
goddess addresses her:
"'Nausicaa, how hath thy mother so heedless a maiden to her daughter?
Lo! thou hast shining raiment that lies by thee uncared for, and thy
marriage day is near at hand, when thou thyself must needs go
beautifully clad, and have garments to give to them who shall lead thee
to the house of the bridegroom. And, behold, these are the things whence
a good report goes abroad among men, wherein a father and lady mother
take delight. But come, let us arise and go a-washing with the breaking
of the day, and I will follow thee to be thy mate in the toil, that
without delay thou mayst get thee ready, since truly thou art not long
to be a maiden. Lo! already they are wooing thee, the noblest youths of
all the Phaeacians, among that people whence thou thyself dost draw thy
lineage. So come, beseech thy noble father betimes in the morning to
furnish thee with mules and a wain to carry the men's raiment, and the
robes, and the shining coverlets. Yea, and for thyself it is seemlier
far to go thus than on foot, for the places where we must wash are a
great way from the town.'"
So spake the gray-eyed Athena, and departed to Olympus, seat of the
gods.
"Anon came the throned Dawn, and awakened Nausicaa of the fair robes,
who straightway marvelled on the dream, and went through the halls to
tell her parents, her father dear and her mother. And she found them
within, her mother sitting by the hearth with the women, her handmaids,
spinning yarn of sea-purple stain, but her father she met as he was
going forth to the renowned kings in their council, whither the noble
Phaeacians called him. Standing close by her dear father, she spake,
saying: 'Father, dear, couldst thou not lend me a high wagon with strong
wheels, that I may take the goodly raiment to the river to wash, so much
as I have lying soiled? Yea, and it is seemly that thou thyself, when
thou art with the princes in council, shouldst have fresh raiment to
wear. Also, there are five dear sons of thine in the halls, two married,
but three are lusty bachelors, and these are always eager for new-washen
garments wherein to go to the dances; for all these things have I taken
thought.'
"This she said, because she was ashamed to speak of glad marriage to her
father; but he saw all and answered, saying:
"'Neither the mules nor aught else do I grudge thee, my child. Go thy
ways, and the thralls shall get thee ready a high wagon with good
wheels, and fitted with an upper frame.'"
So, in obedience to the king's command, the mule team is made ready in
the courtyard, and the maiden and her mother store in the wagon the
raiment, a basket filled with all manner of food, and wine in a goatskin
bottle, and olive oil in a golden cruse, that the princess and her
maidens might anoint themselves after the bath. Then Nausicaa herself
takes the whip and the reins, and she and her attendants start off for a
joyous holiday. When they reach the stream of the river, the maidens
unharness the mules and turn them loose to graze on the honey-sweet
clover. Then they take out the garments, wash and cleanse them from all
stains, and spread them out along the shore to dry. Work over, they
bathe, anoint themselves with olive oil, and partake of their noonday
meal on the river banks. Now for an afternoon of maidenly pastime. They
indulge in the choral game of ball, laying aside their headdresses, and
among them Nausicaa of the white arms, who outshone in beauty her maiden
company, began the song.
But Athena is overruling this girlish frolic, for the rescue of her
hero. The princess throws the ball at one of her companions, but it
misses her and falls into the eddying river, whereat the maidens all
raise a piercing scream, as only maidens can. Odysseus is awakened, and,
sitting up, wonders into what sort of land he is come; surely it was the
shrill cry of maidens, but whether of nymphs or of mortals he cannot
tell. He will make essay, however; and, tearing a leafy bough from a
tree to cover him, he sallies forth from the thicket like a
mountain-bred lion. Loathsome and terrible, being disfigured by the
brine of the sea, does he appear to the maidens, and they flee cowering
here and there about the shore. Only Alcinous's daughter stands firm,
for Athena gives her courage of heart and takes all trembling from her
limbs. Odysseus does not venture to approach in the attitude of a
suppliant, but, standing aloof, beseeches her compassion with sweet and
cunning words:
"I supplicate thee, O queen, whether thou art a goddess or a mortal! If
indeed thou art a goddess of them that keep the wide heaven, then to
Artemis, the daughter of great Zeus, I mainly liken thee, for beauty and
stature and shapeliness. But if thou art one of the daughters of men who
dwell on earth, thrice blessed are thy father and thy lady mother, and
thrice blessed thy brethren. Surely their souls ever glow with gladness
for thy sake each time they see thee entering the dance, so fair a
flower of maidens! But he is of heart the most blessed beyond all other
who shall prevail with gifts of wooing, and lead thee to his home. Never
have mine eyes beheld such an one among mortals, neither man nor woman;
great awe comes upon me as I look on thee.
"But, queen, have pity on me; for, after many trials and sore, to thee
first of all am I come, and of the other folk who hold this city and
land I know no man. Nay, show me the town, give me an old garment to
cast about me, if thou hadst, when thou camest here, any wrap for the
linen. And may the gods grant thee all thy heart's desire: a husband and
a home, and a mind at one with his may they give--a good gift; for there
is nothing mightier and nobler than when man and wife are of one heart
and mind in a house, a grief to their foes, and to their friends great
joy, but their own hearts know it best."
Then Nausicaa of the white arms answered him, and said: "Stranger,
forasmuch as thou seemest no evil man nor foolish--and it is Olympian
Zeus himself that giveth weal to men, to the good and to the evil, to
each one as he will, and this thy lot doubtless is of him, and so thou
must in any wise endure it:--now, since thou hast come to our city and
our land, thou shalt not lack raiment, nor aught else that is the due of
a hapless suppliant, when he has met them who can befriend him. And I
will show thee the town, and name the name of the people. The Phaeacians
hold this city and land, and I am the daughter of Alcinous, great of
heart, on whom all the might and force of the Phaeacians depend."
The princess then calls her maidens and bids them give the stranger meat
and drink, and olive oil for his bath, and raiment to put on. And when
he had bathed and anointed himself, and had put on the raiment, Athena
"made him greater and more mighty to behold, and from his head caused
deep, curling locks to flow, like the hyacinth flower," shedding grace
about his head and shoulders.
"Then to the shore of the sea went Odysseus apart, and sat down, glowing
in beauty and grace; and the princess marvelled at him, and spake among
her fair-tressed maidens, saying:
"'Listen, my white-armed maidens, and I will say somewhat. Not without
the will of all the gods who hold Olympus hath this man come among the
godlike Phaeacians. Erewhile he seemed to me uncomely, but now he is like
the gods that keep the wide heaven. Would that such an one might be
called my husband, dwelling here, and that it might please him here to
abide! But come, my maidens, give the stranger meat and drink.'"
Food is set before the famishing Odysseus, and, after his hunger is
appeased, Nausicaa prepares for the homeward return. She addresses the
hero, and gives him full directions how to reach her father's palace;
part of the way he may accompany her, but not when they approach a
populous part of the city; for she dreads the unfriendly comments of
loungers and passers-by.
[Illustration 80 _CIRCE After the painting by Henri P. Motte. The myth
of Circe turning the companions of Ulysses into swines shows the
religious belief, in ancient Greece, in magical transformation of human
beings into animals._]
"And some one of the baser sort might meet me and say: 'Who is this that
goes with Nausicaa, this tall and goodly stranger? Where found she him?
Her husband he will be, her very own. Either she has taken in some
shipwrecked wanderer of strange men, for no men dwell near us; or some
god has come in answer to her instant prayer; from heaven has he
descended, and will have her to wife for evermore. Better so, if herself
she has ranged abroad and found a lord from a strange land; for verily
she holds in no regard the Phaeacians here in this country, the many men
and noble who are her wooers.' So will they speak, and this would turn
to my reproach. Yea, and I myself would think it blame of another
maiden who did such things in despite of her friends, her father and
mother being still alive, and was conversant with men before the day of
open wedlock. But, stranger, heed well what I say, that as soon as may
be thou mayst gain at my father's hands an escort and a safe return.
Thou shalt find a fair grove of Athena, a poplar grove near the road,
and a spring wells forth therein, and a meadow lies all around. There is
my father's demesne, and his fruitful close, within the sound of a man's
shout from the city. Sit thee down there, and wait until such time as we
may have come into the city and reached the house of my father. But when
thou deemest that we are got to the palace, then go up to the city of
the Phaeacians, and ask for the house of my father Alcinous, high of
heart. It is easily known, and a young child could be thy guide, for
nowise like it are builded the houses of the Phaeacians, so goodly is the
palace of the hero Alcinous. But when thou art within the shadow of the
halls and the court, pass quickly through the great chamber, till thou
comest to my mother, who sits at the hearth in the light of the fire,
weaving yarn of sea-purple stain, a wonder to behold. Her chair is
leaned against a pillar, and her maidens sit behind her. And there my
father's throne leans close to hers, wherein he sits and drinks his
wine, like an immortal. Pass thou by him, and cast thy hands about my
mother's knees, that thou mayst see quickly and with joy the day of thy
returning, even if thou art from a very far country. If but her heart be
kindly disposed toward thee, then is there hope that thou shalt see thy
friends, and come to thy well-builded house and to thine own country."
The clever maiden had already learned where lies the real seat of
authority.
Soon stranger and maiden part, and Nausicaa drives to the gateway of the
palace, and her brothers loose the mules from the car and carry the
raiment within; then the maiden passes to her chamber, where her
attendant Eurymedusa meets her and prepares her supper. And at this
point Nausicaa slips out of the main thread of the story, for maidens
were not allowed to take part in the public functions with which the
king entertained his guest.
When Odysseus has met with a favorable reception from the royal pair,
the queen recognizes the garments which he wears, and this leads to the
story of his rescue, but as yet he withholds his name. Alcinous is
inclined to censure his daughter for not bringing the rescued one to the
house when she returned with her maidens, but Odysseus gallantly defends
the blameless maiden. And Alcinous, moved by his princely bearing,
expresses the wish that so goodly a man would wed his daughter, and be
called his son, there abiding. But the king does not insist, and the
invitation was probably merely a courteous form of expression customary
in those early days.
Only one more glimpse do we have of the Princess Nausicaa. After a day
of athletic contests and various entertainments, Odysseus has arrayed
himself for the evening, and is going to join the chiefs at their wine.
"And Nausicaa, dowered with beauty by the gods, stood by the doorpost of
the well-builded hall, and marvelled at Odysseus, beholding him before
her eyes, and she uttered her voice and spake to him winged words:
"'Farewell, stranger, and even in thine own country bethink thee of me
upon a time, for that to me first thou owest the ransom of life.'
"And Odysseus of many counsels answered her, saying: 'Nausicaa, daughter
of great-hearted Alcinous, yea, may Zeus, the thunderer, the lord of
Hera, grant me to reach my home and see the day of my returning; so
would I, even there, do thee worship as to a god, all my days for
evermore, for thou, lady, hast given me my life.'"
Thus delicately did Odysseus make a patron saint of the pure-hearted
maiden, who had so innocently shown her fondness for him.
Royally was Odysseus entertained by King Alcinous and his noble-hearted
queen, Arete, daughter of his brother, who "was honored by him as no
other woman in the world is honored, of all that nowadays keep house
under the hand of their lords. Thus she hath, and hath ever had, all
worship heartily from her dear children and from her lord Alcinous and
from all the folk, who look on her as on a goddess, and greet her with
reverent speech when she goes about the town. Yea, for she, too, hath no
lack of understanding. To whomsoever she shows favor, even if they be
men, she ends their feuds."
After the feast, Demodocus the minstrel sang the story of the Wooden
Horse; and at the memory of all he had suffered, the heart of Odysseus
melted and the tears wet his cheeks beneath his eyelids. His host marked
his grief, and begged him to tell the story of his adventures. Odysseus
complied by giving an account of his wanderings, from the fall of Troy
up to his arrival among the Phaeacians. The hero had struggled time and
again against men, against giants and monsters, against the forces of
nature, and finally against an adversary yet more powerful--the love of
goddesses.