Age of Fable or Beauties of Mythology

by Thomas Bulfinch

  passed through the brains of the victims of Circe, after their transformation. In his

  Endymion he represents one of them, a monarch in the guise of an elephant, addressing

  the sorceress in human language thus: -

  "I sue not for my happy crown again;

  I sue not for my phalanx on the plain;

  I sue not for my lone, my widowed wife;

  I sue not for my ruddy drops of life,

  My children fair, my lovely girls and boys;

  I will forget them; I will pass these joys,

  Ask nought so heavenward; so too - too high;

  Only I pray, as fairest boon, to die;

  To be delivered from this cumbrous flesh,

  From this gross, detestable, filthy mesh,

  And merely given to the cold, bleak air.

  Have mercy, goddess! Circe, feel my prayer!"

  Scylla And Charybdis.

  Ulysses had been warned by Circe of the two monsters Scylla and Charybdis.

  We have already met with Scylla in the story of Glaucus, and remember that she was

  once a beautiful maiden and was changed into a snaky monster by Circe. She dwelt in

  a cave high up on the cliff, from whence she was accustomed to thrust forth her long

  necks, (for she had six heads,) and in each of her mouths to seize one of the crew of

  every vessel passing within reach. The other terror, Charybdis, was a gulf, nearly on a

  level with the water. Thrice each day the water rushed into a frightful chasm, and thrice

  was disgorged. Any vessel coming near the whirlpool when the tide was rushing in must

  inevitably be ingulphed; not Neptune himself could save it.

  On approaching the haunt of the dread monsters, Ulysses kept strict watch to

  discover them. The roar of the waters as Charybdis ingulphed them, gave warning at a

  distance, but Scylla could nowhere be discerned. While Ulysses and his men watched

  with anxious eyes the dreadful whirlpool, they were not equally on their guard from the

  attack of Scylla, and the monster darting forth her snaky heads, caught six of his men,

  and bore them away shrieking to her den. It was the saddest sight Ulysses had yet

  seen; to behold his friends thus sacrificed and hear their cries, unable to afford them any

  assistance.

  Circe had warned him of another danger. After passing Scylla and Charybdis the

  next land he would make was Thrinakia, an island whereon were pastured the cattle of

  Hyperion, the Sun, tended by his daughters Lampetia, and Phaethusa. These flocks

  must not be violated, whatever the wants of the voyagers might be. If this injunction

  were transgressed, destruction was sure to fall on the offenders.

  Ulysses would willingly have passed the island of the Sun without stopping, but

  his companions so urgently pleaded for the rest and refreshment that would be derived

  from anchoring and passing the night on shore, that Ulysses yielded. He bound them

  however with an oath that they would not touch one of the animals of the sacred flocks

  and herds, but content themselves with what provision they yet had left of the supply

  which Circe had put on board. So long as this supply lasted the people kept their oath,

  but contrary winds detained them at the island for a month, and after consuming all their

  stock of provisions, they were forced to rely upon the birds and fishes they could catch.

  Famine pressed them, and at length one day, in the absence of Ulysses, they slew some

  of the cattle, vainly attempting to make amends for the deed by offering from them a

  portion to the offended powers. Ulysses, on his return to the shore, was horror-struck at

  perceiving what they had done, and the more so on account of the portentous signs

  which followed. The skins crept on the ground, and the joints of meat lowed on the spits

  while roasting.

  The wind becoming fair they sailed from the island. They had not gone far when

  the weather changed, and a storm of thunder and lightning ensued. A stroke of lightning

  shattered their mast, which in its fall killed the pilot. At last the vessel itself came to

  pieces. The keel and mast floating side by side. Ulysses formed of them a raft, to which

  he clung, and, the wind changing, the waves bore him to Calypso's island. All the rest of

  the crew perished.

  The following allusion to the topics we have just been considering is from Milton's

  Comus, line 252.

  ". . . I have often heard

  My mother Circe and the Sirens three,

  Amidst the flowery-kirtled Naiades,

  Culling their potent herbs and baneful drugs,

  Who as they sung would take the prisoned sou

  And lap it in Elysium. Scylla wept,

  And child her barking waves into attention,

  And fell Charybdis murmured soft applause."

  Scylla and Charybdis have become proverbial, to denote opposite dangers which

  beset one's course. - See Proverbial Expressions, p. 478.

  Calypso.

  Calypso was a sea-nymph, which name denotes a numerous class of female

  divinities of lower rank, yet sharing many of the attributes of the gods. Calypso received

  Ulysses hospitably, entertained him magnificently, became enamoured of him, and

  wished to retain him forever, conferring on him immortality. But he persisted in his

  resolution to return to his country and his wife and son. Calypso at last received the

  command of Jove to dismiss him. Mercury brought the message to her, and found her in

  her grotto, which is thus described by Homer: -

  "A garden vine, luxuriant on all sides,

  Mantled the spacious cavern, cluster-hung

  Profuse; four fountains of serenest lymph,

  Their sinuous course pursuing side by side,

  Strayed all around, and every where appeared

  Meadows of softest verdure, purpled o'er

  With violets; it was a scene to fill

  A god from heaven with wonder and delight."

  Calypso with much reluctance proceeded to obey the commands of Jupiter. She

  supplied Ulysses with the means of constructing a raft, provisioned it well for him, and

  gave him a favoring gale. He sped on his course prosperously for many days, till at

  length, when in sight of land, a storm arose that broke his mast, and threatened to rend

  the raft asunder. In this crisis he was seen by a compassionate sea-nymph, who in the

  form of a cormorant alighted on the raft, and presented him a girdle, directing him to bind

  it beneath his breast, and if he should be compelled to trust himself to the waves, it

  would buoy him up and enable him by swimming to reach the land.

  Fenelon, in his romance of Telemachus, has given us the adventures of the son

  of Ulysses in search of his father. Among other places at which he arrived, following on

  his father's footsteps, was Calypso's isle, and, as in the former case, the goddess tried

  every art to keep him with her, and offered to share her immortality with him. But

  Minerva, who in the shape of Mentor accompanied him and governed all his movements,

  made him repel her allurements, and when no other means of escape could be found,

  the two friends leaped from a cliff into the sea, and swam to a vessel which lay

  becalmed off shore. Byron alludes to this leap of Telemachus and Mentor in the

  following stanza: -

  "But not in silence pass Calypso's isles,

  The sister tenants of the middle deep;

  There for the weary still a haven smiles,<
br />
  Though the fair goddess long has ceased to weep,

  And o'er her cliffs a fruitless watch to keep

  For him who dared prefer a mortal bride.

  Here too his boy essayed the dreadful leap,

  Stern Mentor urged from high to yonder tide;

  While thus of both bereft the nymph-queen doubly sighed."

  Chapter XXX: The Phaeacians - Fate Of The Suitors

  The Phaeacians.

  Ulysses clung to the raft while any of its timbers kept together, and when it no

  longer yielded him support, binding the girdle around him, he swam. Minerva

  smoothed the billows before him and sent him a wind that rolled the waves towards the

  shore. The surf beat high on the rocks and seemed to forbid approach; but at length

  finding calm water at the mouth of a gentle stream, he landed, spent with toil,

  breathless and speechless and almost dead. After some time reviving he kissed the

  soil, rejoicing, yet at a loss what course to take. At a short distance he perceived a

  wood, to which he turned his steps. There finding a covert sheltered by intermingling

  branches alike from the sun and the rain, he collected a pile of leaves and formed a

  bed, on which he stretched himself, and heaping the leaves over him, fell asleep.

  The land where he was thrown was Scheria, the country of the Phaeacians.

  These people dwelt originally near the Cyclopes; but being oppressed by that savage

  race, they migrated to the isle of Scheria, under the conduct of Nausithous their king.

  They were, the poet tells us, a people akin to the gods, who appeared manifestly and

  feasted among them when they offered sacrifices, and did not conceal themselves

  from solitary wayfarers when they met them. They had abundance of wealth and lived

  in the enjoyment of it undisturbed by the alarms of war, for as they dwelt remote from

  gain-seeking man, no enemy ever approached their shores, and they did not even

  require to make use of bows and quivers. Their chief employment was navigation.

  Their ships, which went with the velocity of birds, were endued with intelligence; they

  knew every port and needed no pilot. Alcinous, the son of Nausithous, was now their

  king, a wise and just sovereign, beloved by his people.

  Now it happened that the very night on which Ulysses was cast ashore on the

  Phaeacian island, and while he lay sleeping on his bed of leaves, Nausicaa, the

  daughter of the king, had a dream sent by Minerva, reminding her that her wedding

  day was not far distant, and that it would be but a prudent preparation for that event to

  have a general washing of the clothes of the family. This was no slight affair, for the

  fountains were at some distance and the garments must be carried thither. On

  awaking, the princess hastened to her parents to tell them what was on her mind; not

  alluding to her wedding day, but finding other reasons equally good. Her father readily

  assented and ordered the grooms to furnish forth a wagon for the purpose. The

  clothes were put therein, and the queen mother placed in the wagon likewise an

  abundant supply of food and wine. The princess took her seat and plied the lash, her

  attendant virgins following her on foot. Arrived at the river side they turned out the

  mules to graze, and unlading the carriage, bore the garments down to the water, and

  working with cheerfulness and alacrity soon despatched their labor. Then having

  spread the garments on the shore to dry, and having themselves bathed, they sat

  down to enjoy their meal; after which they rose and amused themselves with a game

  of ball, the princess singing to them while they played. But when they had refolded the

  apparel and were about to resume their way to the town, Minerva caused the ball

  thrown by the princess to fall into the water, whereat they all screamed and Ulysses

  awaked at the sound.

  Now we must picture to ourselves Ulysses, a shipwrecked mariner, but a few

  hours escaped from the waves, and utterly destitute of clothing, awaking and

  discovering that only a few bushes were interposed between him and a group of young

  maidens whom by their deportment and attire he discovered to be not mere peasant

  girls, but of a higher class. Sadly needing help, how could he yet venture naked as he

  was to discover himself and make his wants known? It certainly was a case worthy of

  the interposition of his patron goddess Minerva, who never failed him at a crisis.

  Breaking off a leafy branch from a tree he held it before him and stepped out from the

  thicket. The virgins at sight of him fled in all directions, Nausicaa alone excepted, for

  her Minerva aided and endowed with courage and discernment. Ulysses, standing

  respectfully aloof, told his sad case, and besought the fair object (whether queen or

  goddess he professed he knew not) for food and clothing. The princess replied

  courteously, promising present relief and her father's hospitality when he should

  become acquainted with the facts. She called back her scattered maidens, chiding

  their alarm, and reminding them that the Phaeacians had no enemies to fear. This

  man, she told them, was an unhappy wanderer, whom it was a duty to cherish, for the

  poor and stranger are from Jove. She bade them bring food and clothing, for some of

  her brothers' garments were among the contents of the wagon. When this was done,

  and Ulysses retiring to a sheltered place had washed his body free from the sea- foam,

  clothed and refreshed himself with food, Pallas dilated his form and diffused grace

  over his ample chest and manly brows.

  The princess seeing him was filled with admiration, and scrupled not to say to her

  damsels that she wished the gods would send her such a husband. To Ulysses she

  recommended that he should repair to the city, following herself and train so far as the

  way lay through the fields; but when they should approach the city she desired that he

  would no longer be seen in her company, for she feared the remarks which rude and

  vulgar people might make on seeing her return accompanied by such a gallant

  stranger. To avoid which she directed him to stop at a grove adjoining the city, in

  which were a farm and garden belonging to the king. After allowing time for the

  princess and her companions to reach the city, he was then to pursue his way thither,

  and would be easily guided by any he might meet to the royal abode.

  Ulysses obeyed the directions and in due time proceeded to the city, on

  approaching which he met a young woman bearing a pitcher forth for water. It was

  Minerva who had assumed that form. Ulysses accosted her and desired to be directed

  to the palace of Alcinous the king. The maiden replied respectfully, offering to be his

  guide; for the palace she informed him stood near her father's dwelling. Under the

  guidance of the goddess and by her power enveloped in a cloud which shielded him

  from observation, Ulysses passed among the busy crowd, and with wonder observed

  their harbor, their ships, their forum, (the resort of heroes,) and their battlements, till

  they came to the palace, where the goddess, having first given him some information

  of the country, king, and people he was about to meet, left him. Ulysses, before

  entering the court-yard of the palace, stood and surveyed the scene. Its splendor

  astonished him. Brazen walls stretched from the entrance to the interior house,
of

  which the doors were gold, the doorposts silver, the lintels silver ornamented with gold.

  On either side were figures of mastiffs wrought in gold. On either side were figures of

  mastiffs wrought in gold and silver, standing in rows as if to guard the approach. Along

  the walls were seats spread through all their length with mantles of finest texture, the

  work of Phaeacian maidens. On these seats the princes sat and feasted, while golden

  statues of graceful youths held in their hands lighted torches which shed radiance over

  the scene. Full fifty female menials served in household offices, some employed to

  grind the corn, others to wind off the purple wool or ply the loom. For the Phaeacian

  women as far exceeded all other women in household arts as the mariners of that

  country did the rest of mankind in the management of ships. Without the court a

  spacious garden lay, four acres in extent. In it grew many a lofty tree, pomegranate,

  pear, apple, fig, and olive. Neither winter's cold nor summer's drought arrested their

  growth, but they flourished in constant succession, some budding while others were

  maturing. The vineyard was equally prolific. In one quarter you might see the vines,

  some in blossom, some loaded with ripe grapes, and in another observe the vintagers

  treading the wine press. On the garden's borders flowers of all hues bloomed all the

  year round, arranged with neatest art. In the midst two fountains poured forth their

  waters, one flowing by artificial channels over all the garden, the other conducted

  through the court-yard of the palace, whence every citizen might draw his supplies.

  Ulysses stood gazing in admiration, unobserved himself, for the cloud which

  Minerva spread around him still shielded him. At length having sufficiently observed

  the scene, he advanced with rapid step into the hall where the chiefs and senators

  were assembled, pouring libation to Mercury, whose worship followed the evening

  meal. Just then Minerva dissolved the cloud and disclosed him to the assembled