Chapter 6

Thereupon he sat down by the hearth in the ashes near the fire; and for awhile not a word was spoken, but all sat gazing at him in wonder. At last an aged Phæacian broke the silence, and said, looking at Alcinous: "My prince, it becomes thee not to suffer this stranger to sit on the ground in the ashes. Behold, we are all waiting for thee to speak and declare thy will. Give this poor man thy hand, and set him on a seat, that he may know that his prayer is granted. And let them give him to eat, and fill a bowl for a libation to Zeus, in whose care are all suppliants."

Alcinous rose in response to the words of the elder, who was famed among the Phæacians for his eloquence and wisdom, and taking Odysseus by the hand raised him from his abject posture, and seated him by his side. Food and drink were placed before him, and while he was eating, Alcinous ordered a bowl to be filled for a libation to Zeus, the god of hospitality. The wine was served out to the guests, the libations were poured, and then Alcinous began to speak again, unfolding his purpose towards Odysseus.

"Here me, ye princes of Phæacia. Go ye now to your rest, and to-morrow we will call an assembly of all the elders, and make a great feast and sacrifice, and after that we will take counsel how we may best send the stranger on his way. Safe and sound we will bring him to his native land, but after that he must take up his portion, according as the Fates have ordained for him, and spun the thread of his life, rough or smooth, from the hour when his mother bare him. I speak as supposing our guest to be a man; but if he be a god, come down from heaven, then I fear that the gods are devising some snare against us. For never has it been their wont to appear among us in disguise, but at sacrifice and at feast they freely consort with us in their own shape, seeing that we are of their own kin."

"Alcinous," answered Odysseus, "let not this fear trouble thee. I am no god, as thou mayest see right well. If ye know any man conspicuous for the burden of sorrow which he bears, ye may learn my lot from his. But none, methinks, can equal the sum of what I have endured by the ordinance of heaven. Care sits by my side day and night, but within me is a monitor whose voice I must obey, even my hungry belly, that calls aloud to be filled, and will not let me alone to chew the cud of bitter thought. Shameless he is, and clamorous exceedingly. Therefore let me sup and question me no further to-night; but rouse thee betimes to-morrow, and send me with all speed to my native land. Let me once see my possessions, and my household, and my stately home, and then I will close mine eyes in peace."

A murmur of approval went round the hall as Odysseus ended his speech. One by one the guests took leave of Alcinous, and he and his hosts sat awhile conversing together, while the servants were removing the remnants of the feast, and setting the house in order for the night. Arete was the first to speak, for she recognised the garments which Odysseus was wearing as the work of her own hands. "Friend," said she, "let me ask thee one question. How camest thou by this raiment? For surely thou hast not brought it with thee in thy voyage across the deep. Say who thou art and whence thou comest."

Thus challenged Odysseus told her all the story of his shipwreck on the island of Calypso, of his long sojourn there, of his voyage on the raft, his second shipwreck, and his landing on the coast of Phæacia. Concluding he touched feelingly on his meeting with Nausicaä, and the kindness, courtesy, and modesty of her behaviour. "Never saw I such grace and prudence," he added, "in one so young and so lovely."

"Yet in this she did not well," replied Alcinous, "that she brought thee not straightway to this house, but suffered thee to find thy way alone."

"Nay, blame her not," answered Odysseus, "she bade me come hither with herself and the maidens, but I feared to offend thee, and chose to come alone."

"Think not that I am so hasty, or given to causeless anger," said Alcinous; "excess in all things is evil."[1] Then he looked earnestly at Odysseus, and continued, after a pause: "I would to heaven that thy thoughts were as mine; then wouldst thou abide for ever in this land, and take my daughter to wife, and I would give thee house and lands. But I see that thou art steadfastly purposed to leave us; and none shall detain thee against thy will. To-morrow thou shalt go. I will appoint a ship and a crew, and they shall bear thee sleeping to thine own land, yea though it be more distant than far Euboea, which lies, as I am told, in the uttermost parts of the earth. Yet the Phæacians went thither in their ships, and returned on the same day. They have no equals, as thou shalt soon learn, in seamanship, and no ships in all the world are like mine."

[Footnote 1: _Nothing too much_, the corner-stone of Greek morality.]

After some further talk they parted for the night, and Odysseus, after all his hardships, was right glad to lay him down in the soft bed prepared for him in the gallery before the house. But before he closed his eyes he muttered a prayer to Zeus that Alcinous might abide by his promise, and send him safely home.

III

Next day was appointed for a great feast in the palace of Alcinous, to which all the chief men of Phæacia were invited, and when Odysseus returned to the house, after some hours spent in a visit to the town, hefound the courts and galleries thronged with a great company. The preparations for the banquet were on a heroic scale: twelve sheep, eight fat swine, and two oxen, the choicest of the herd, were slaughtered, and a goodly row of casks, filled with the finest vintages, gave further token that Alcinous was no niggardly host.

"Come," said Alcinous, meeting Odysseus at the gate. "The guests are seated, and all is ready. Trouble not thyself as to the manner of thy home-coming; that is cared for already, and the ship lies at her moorings. But to-day is a day of good cheer, when thou shalt learn how gay and joyous a life the Phæacians live."

As he spoke, they entered the banquet hall, and Odysseus sat down by the side of Alcinous. Rich and dainty was the fare, and many times the great wine-bowls were filled and emptied; for the Phæacians were a luxurious race, much given to the pleasures of the table. Among the guests Odysseus was especially struck by one venerable figure, who sat by himself against a pillar, on which hung a harp within reach of his hands. Odysseus noticed that he ate slowly and deliberately, and seemed to feel for the cup when he wished to drink, "It is Demodocus, the blind harper," whispered Alcinous. "We shall presently have a taste of his quality. He is a rare minstrel."

Accordingly, when the last course was removed, the harp was placed in the singer's hands, and after striking a deep chord he began to sing, choosing for his theme a famous tale of Troy, which told how Achilles and Odysseus quarrelled at a banquet, and reviled each other with bitter words, and how Agamemnon rejoiced in spirit because of the strife; for he had heard an oracle from Apollo, foretelling that when the noblest of the Greeks fell out Troy's end would be near at hand.

Odysseus listened, and a flood of emotion filled his mind, so sad were the memories recalled by the minstrel's lay. Of all his gallant peers, for ten years his companions in many a joyful feast, and many a high adventure, how many were left? And he, among the last of the survivors, was now growing old, after twenty years of war and wandering, far from his wife and home. He was now, indeed, on the eve of his return; but at what a price had it been won! And who could tell what heavy trials awaited him when once more he set foot on his native soil? Was it not but too probable that he would find his house made desolate, Telemachus dead, and Penelope wedded to another?

Overpowered by these gloomy forebodings, he covered his face, and wept aloud. When Demodocus paused in his singing he wiped away his tears, and poured a drink-offering from his cup; but every time the minstrel resumed his lay a new fit of weeping succeeded. At last, Alcinous, who had hitherto been totally absorbed in that rare minstrelsy, observed his guest's emotion, and partly divining the cause came to his relief. "How say ye, fair sirs?" he said, rising and addressing the company. "Shall we go forth for awhile, and show the stranger that we have other and manlier pastimes, now that we have eaten and drunken, and cheered our souls with song? Let him not say of us when he goes home that we sit all day by the wine-cup, but let him learn that the Phæacians surpass all mankind in boxing, and in wrestling, and in leaping, and in the speed of their feet."

So saying he rose from his seat and led the way to the place of assembly. Crowds soon flocked to see the friendly trial of strength and skill. The first event was the foot race, and this was followed by matches of wrestling, boxing, leaping, and throwing the weight. Odysseus stood watching the Phæacians at their sports, and thinking of the mighty feats which he had witnessed and shared at the funeral games of Patroclus. Presently he felt a hand on his shoulder, and heard himself challenged by a young Phæacian, whose name was Euryalus, in these terms: "Why so gloomy, father? Away with care! All is ready for thy departure, and thou shalt soon be home again. But come, give us a proof of thy manhood, if thou knowest aught of games of skill. Thou seemest a stout fellow, and I doubt not that thou wilt acquit thee well."

"Friend," answered Odysseus, "mock me not. Thou seest how broken I am, and worn by my long battle with the sea; and care sits heavy on my heart, forbidding me to think of the things which thou namest."

"Nay," said Euryalus, with a scornful laugh, "I see that I was mistaken in thee. Thou art plainly no athlete, but some cunning merchant, with thy head full of thy cargo, and fingers only skilled in counting thy gains."

Then Odysseus bent his brows, and answered with a stern look: "Friend, thou art over-saucy of thy tongue. But so it ever is; the gods dispense their gifts with sparing hand, and give not all excellence to the same man. One man is mean of aspect, but heaven's grace descends upon his lips, so that men look upon him with delight while he discourses smoothly with a winning modesty. He is the observed of all observers, and when he walks through the town all eyes follow him as if he were a god. Another again is glorious, like a very god, in the splendour of his face and form, but no grace attends upon his speech. Even so thou art conspicuous for thy beauty, as though the hand of a god had fashioned thee, but in understanding thou art naught. Thou hast stung me by thy unseemly words; I am not ignorant of manly sports, as thou sayest, but I tell thee that I was among the foremost as long as I trusted in my youth and in the might of my hands. But now I am sore spent with woe and pain, for many things have I suffered in battles by land, and buffeting with the sea. Nevertheless, broken as I am, I will give proof of my strength, for thou hast provoked me bitterly by thy wanton words."

Thereupon, without waiting to throw off his cloak, he sprang into the arena, and caught up a massy disc of iron, far heavier than those with which the Phæacians had been throwing. Poising it lightly, with one hand he flung it, as one who flings a ball. The Phæacians sank back in dismay as they saw the huge mass flying high over their heads, and when it fell all rushed to the spot to mark the distance. There it lay, far beyond the longest cast of the native athletes, and Odysseus pointed to it, and said: "Reach that mark, my young masters, if ye can! And if any among you have a mind to try a match with me in boxing or in wrestling, or in the foot race, they shall have their will; only with the sons of Alcinous I will not strive, for he is my host, and it were not fitting or prudent to challenge them. Whatever a man can do with his hands I can do: I can send an arrow sure and strong, and strike down my foe, and herein can no archer surpass me, save one only, Philoctetes, who bare the bow of Hercules; and I can fling a javelin farther than another man can shoot an arrow. Only in speed of foot I fear that some of you may surpass me; for my knees are yet weak from long fasting and fighting with the waves."

Not one of the Phæacians took up the challenge, but all sat mute, gazing in wonder and awe at this strange man, who had just given such signal proof of the power of his arm. At last Alcinous answered and said: "Stranger, none here can take thy words amiss, for, as thou sayest, thou hast been bitterly provoked. But hear me now in turn, and push not thy quarrel further, but rest satisfied with the proof of thy prowess which thou hast given. I will speak to thee frankly, that thou mayest know what manner of men the Phæacians are. We are not mighty men of valour, like thee, yet we too have our own peculiar excellence. We are good runners, and none can approach us in all that belongs to the mariner's art. But at home we live softly, loving the banquet, and music and dancing, clean raiment, warm baths, and long repose." Then turning to his attendants he added: "Go, some of you, and bring hither the harper Demodocus, and clear a space for the dancers, that our guest may see something of the native sports of Phæacia."

Then those whose business it was chose a fair level space for the dance, and when Demodocus arrived he took his harp and struck up a lively measure. A fair troop of boys stood in a circle around him, and the dance began. Alcinous had not overrated the skill of his people in this graceful pastime, and Odysseus was filled with wonder as he watched the intricate yet ordered movements of the youthful troop.

When the dance was ended, Demodocus sang a soft lay of love, and after that the two most skilful dancers, one of whom was Laodamas, a son of Alcinous, stood up to dance a reel together. One of them held a crimson ball, and, keeping time to the music flung it high into the air; while the other leaped high from the ground, and caught the ball as it fell. Then they flung the ball with lightning rapidity from hand to hand, so that it seemed a mere streak of crimson shooting backward and forward; and all the time the dance went gaily on, while the whole company of the Phæacians kept up a merry din, beating time to the music with their feet.

"Of a truth," said Odysseus, addressing Alcinous, "thou hast not boasted for naught; never saw I such dancing in all my long travels." A proud man was Alcinous to hear such praise from such a man, and he was not slow to testify his gratitude. "Hear me," he said, "ye princes of Phæacia! Methinks our guest is a man of exceeding shrewd wit. Let us bestow on him a parting gift, that he may remember us, and rejoice in spirit when he thinks of his sojourn in Phæacia. Thirteen there are, of whom I am one, who sit in high places, and are notable men in the land; let each of us give him a change of raiment and a talent of gold. And Euryalus shall crave pardon of him for his ill-chosen words, and appease him with a gift."

The generous proposal was well received, and each of the twelve nobles sent his body-servant to fetch the gifts. Euryalus also was prompt to make his peace with Odysseus. He presented him with a fine sword of tempered bronze, with silver hilt, and scabbard of ivory. "Behold my peace-offering," he said, "and take my goodwill with the gift. Forget my foolish words, and think of me kindly when thou art safe among thine own people."

Odysseus acknowledged the courtesy of Euryalus in becoming terms, and then the whole company rose and went back to the palace of Alcinous, where they found the gifts for Odysseus all set in order against his departure. Then Alcinous brought a golden goblet, beautifully fashioned, and richly chased, and bade Arete bring a coffer to hold the gifts. The coffer was displayed, and was in itself a gift of no mean value, being a choice piece of work.

"Now bid thy handmaids prepare a bath for our guest," said Alcinous to his wife, and "Receive this as a memorial of me," he added, placing the goblet in Odysseus' hands, "that thou mayest remember me all the days of thy life, when thou pourest libations to Zeus and the other deathless gods."

Arete gave the order as required, and while the bath was preparing she arranged all the gifts in the coffer. Then closing the lid she said to Odysseus: "Make all fast with thine own hands, that none may meddle with thy goods as thou liest asleep on thy passage across the sea." Odysseus made fast the cord, securing it with an intricate and cunning knot, which he had learnt from the great sorceress Circe; and when he had finished he was summoned by the eldest of the handmaids to the bath. When he had bathed and put on fresh raiment he came back to the dining-hall; and as he entered he saw Nausicaä leaning against a pillar. Sweet was the maiden's face, and kind her eyes, as she gazed with innocent admiration on the stately figure of her father's guest. "Farewell, my friend," said she, "and when thou arrivest home think sometimes of her to whom thou owest thy life."

"Fair daughter of Alcinous," answered Odysseus, "if that day ever comes--if I ever see my home again, by favour of Zeus, the lord of Hera--be assured that I shall remember thee in my prayers, as long as this life which thou hast given me shall last." And so he parted from the maiden, and she went back to her mother's bower.

Odysseus again received a place of honour by the side of Alcinous, and a goodly portion of meat was set before him. Looking round the circle of guests he saw Demodocus, the blind harper, sitting in their midst, and wishing to show him honour, he cut off a choice piece from the flesh which had been set before him, and bade a servant carry it to the bard, and greet him in the giver's name. The servant did as he was bidden, and Demodocus received the portion of honour with becoming gratitude.

When the banquet was drawing towards its close Odysseus approached the minstrel, and after praising his former lay, which told of the disastrous homeward voyage of the Greeks, he begged him to sing the Lay of the Wooden Horse, the device by which Troy was taken. Demodocus complied, and taking his harp began to chant that famous lay, which told how the Greeks burnt their tents and sailed away, leaving the wooden monster behind them, how the Trojans dragged the horse into the city, and how the fatal engine sent forth its burden of armed men in the night. The name of Odysseus, the arch-plotter, occurred again and again as the tale went on; and once more Odysseus was moved to tears by the memories which the words of the bard awakened.

Alcinous observed his emotion, and called to Demodocus to cease his song. "We vex our guest," he said, "for whose sake we are gathered here. Doubtless the minstrel has touched some hidden spring of sorrow. But come now," he continued, addressing Odysseus, "we have honoured thee exceedingly, and given thee of our best. Wilt thou not repay us by telling something of thyself? Let us hear thy name, and say of what land and of what city thou art, that our ships may know whither to steer their course. For know that we mariners of Phæacia need no pilots nor rudders, but our ships by their own instinct take us to whatsoever place we would visit, gliding like phantoms, invisible, swift as thought. Nor has any vessel from our ports ever suffered shipwreck or harm.

"Thou likewise hast been a great traveller, and seen many lands and nations, both such as are wild and fierce and such as are gentle and of godly mind. Tell us then the tale of thy wanderings, and say why thou weepest ever at the name of Troy."

All the guests bent forward with eager faces, and strained their ears to catch Odysseus' answer; for there was something mysterious about this strange guest, something which marked him as a man of no common stamp, and their curiosity, which had hitherto been held in check by the laws of courtesy, was now set free from all restraint by the frank question of Alcinous.

"Illustrious prince," answered Odysseus, after a moment's pause, "methinks it were best to sit silent and listen to the sweet voice of the harper; for what better thing has life to offer than a full cup and brave minstrelsy heard at the quiet hour of eventide? But if thou must needs hear a tale of sorrow it is not for me to deny thee. First of all I will tell thee my name. I am Odysseus, son of Laertes, and my name is in all men's mouths because of my deep wit and manifold wiles, yea, the renown thereof reaches even unto heaven. My home is the sunny isle of Ithaca, last in a line of islands lying in the western sea. It is a rugged land, but a nurse of gallant sons; and sweet, ah! very sweet, is the name of home. Never hath my heart been turned from that dear spot, no, not by all the loveliness of Calypso, nor by all the witchery of Circe, but ever I remained faithful to the one lodestar of my life."

Here Odysseus began the wondrous story of his wanderings, which kept his hearers spellbound until far into the night.

The Wanderings of Odysseus

I

After leaving Troy, Odysseus first sailed to the coast of Thrace, and collected a rich booty in a sudden raid on the district. But while his men lingered to enjoy the first-fruits of their spoil, the wild tribes of the neighbourhood rallied their forces, and falling upon the invaders, while they were engaged in a drunken revel, drove them with great slaughter to their ships. No sooner had they put to sea than a wild tempest came down upon them from the north, and drove them to seek shelter again on the mainland, where they lay for two days and nights in constant dread of another attack from the injured Thracians. On the third day they set sail again and got as far as Malea, the southernmost headland of Greece. Here they were again driven from their course, and after nine days' tossing on the waves they reached the land of the Lotus-Eaters.

When his men had refreshed themselves, Odysseus sent three of their number to explore the country and learn the manners of the inhabitants. Presently these three came to the dwellings of the Lotus-Eaters, who received them kindly and gave them to eat of the lotus-plant. With the first taste of that magic food the men forgot the purpose for which they had been sent, forgot their friends and their home, and had no desire left in life but to remain there all their days and feast with the Lotus-Eaters. In this state they were found by Odysseus, who compelled them by force, though they wept and complained bitterly, to return to their ships. There he bound them fast under the benches, and bade the rest take to their oars and fly from that seductive clime, lest others should fall under the same fatal spell.

II

Thence they came to the land of the Cyclopes, a rude and monstrous tribe, but favoured of the immortal gods, by whose bounty they live. They toil not, neither do they sow, nor till the ground, but the earth of herself brings forth for them a bountiful living, wheat and barley, and huge swelling clusters of the grape. Naught know they of law or civil life, but each lives in his cave on the wild mountain-side, dwelling apart, careless of his neighbours, with his wife and children.

It was a dark, cloudy night, and a thick mist overspread the sea, when suddenly Odysseus heard the booming of breakers on a rocky shore. Before an order could be given, or any measure taken for the safety of the ships, the little fleet was caught by a strong landward current, and whirled pell-mell through a narrow passage between the cliffs into a land-locked harbour. Drawing their breath with relief at their wonderful escape, they beached their vessels on the level sand and lay down to wait for the day.