This history tells of the wanderings of Ulysses and his followers in their
return from Troy, after the destruction of that famous city of Asia by the
Grecians. He was inflamed with a desire of seeing again, after a ten
years' absence, his wife and native country, Ithaca. He was king of a
barren spot, and a poor country in comparison of the fruitful plains of
Asia, which he was leaving, or the wealthy kingdoms which he touched upon
in his return; yet, wherever he came, he could never see a soil which
appeared in his eyes half so sweet or desirable as his country earth. This
made him refuse the offers of the goddess Calypso to stay with her, and
partake of her immortality in the delightful island; and this gave him
strength to break from the enchantments of Circe, the daughter of the Sun.
From Troy, ill winds cast Ulysses and his fleet upon the coast of the
Cicons, a people hostile to the Grecians. Landing his forces, he laid
siege to their chief city, Ismarus, which he took, and with it much spoil,
and slew many people. But success proved fatal to him; for his soldiers,
elated with the spoil, and the good store of provisions which they found
in that place, fell to eating and drinking, forgetful of their safety,
till the Cicons, who inhabited the coast, had time to assemble their
friends and allies from the interior; who, mustering in prodigious force,
set upon the Grecians, while they negligently revelled and feasted, and
slew many of them, and recovered the spoil. They, dispirited and thinned
in their numbers, with difficulty made their retreat good to the ships.
Thence they set sail, sad at heart, yet something cheered that with such
fearful odds against them they had not all been utterly destroyed. A
dreadful tempest ensued, which for two nights and two days tossed them
about, but the third day the weather cleared, and they had hopes of a
favourable gale to carry them to Ithaca; but, as they doubled the Cape of
Malea, suddenly a north wind arising drove them back as far as Cythera.
After that, for the space of nine days, contrary winds continued to drive
them in an opposite direction to the point to which they were bound, and
the tenth day they put in at a shore where a race of men dwell that are
sustained by the fruit of the lotos-tree. Here Ulysses sent some of his
men to land for fresh water, who were met by certain of the inhabitants,
that gave them some of their country food to eat--not with any ill
intention towards them, though in the event it proved pernicious; for,
having eaten of this fruit, so pleasant it proved to their appetite that
they in a minute quite forgot all thoughts of home, or of their
countrymen, or of ever returning back to the ships to give an account of
what sort of inhabitants dwelt there, but they would needs stay and live
there among them, and eat of that precious food forever; and when Ulysses
sent other of his men to look for them, and to bring them back by force,
they strove, and wept, and would not leave their food for heaven itself,
so much the pleasure of that enchanting fruit had bewitched them. But
Ulysses caused them to be bound hand and foot, and cast under the hatches;
and set sail with all possible speed from that baneful coast, lest others
after them might taste the lotos, which had such strange qualities to make
men forget their native country and the thoughts of home.
Coasting on all that night by unknown and out-of-the-way shores, they came
by daybreak to the land where the Cyclops dwell, a sort of giant shepherds
that neither sow nor plough, but the earth untilled produces for them rich
wheat and barley and grapes, yet they have neither bread nor wine, nor
know the arts of cultivation, nor care to know them; for they live each
man to himself, without law or government, or anything like a state or
kingdom; but their dwellings are in caves, on the steep heads of
mountains; every man's household governed by his own caprice, or not
governed at all; their wives and children as lawless as themselves, none
caring for others, but each doing as he or she thinks good. Ships or boats
they have none, nor artificers to make them, no trade or commerce, or wish
to visit other shores; yet they have convenient places for harbours and
for shipping. Here Ulysses with a chosen party of twelve followers landed,
to explore what sort of men dwelt there, whether hospitable and friendly
to strangers, or altogether wild and savage, for as yet no dwellers
appeared in sight.
The first sign of habitation which they came to was a giant's cave rudely
fashioned, but of a size which betokened the vast proportions of its
owner; the pillars which supported it being the bodies of huge oaks or
pines, in the natural state of the tree, and all about showed more marks
of strength than skill in whoever built it. Ulysses, entering it, admired
the savage contrivances and artless structure of the place, and longed to
see the tenant of so outlandish a mansion; but well conjecturing that
gifts would have more avail in extracting courtesy than strength would
succeed in forcing it, from such a one as he expected to find the
inhabitant, he resolved to flatter his hospitality with a present of Greek
wine, of which he had store in twelve great vessels, so strong that no one
ever drank it without an infusion of twenty parts of water to one of wine,
yet the fragrance of it even then so delicious that it would have vexed a
man who smelled it to abstain from tasting it; but whoever tasted it, it
was able to raise his courage to the height of heroic deeds. Taking with
them a goat-skin flagon full of this precious liquor, they ventured into
the recesses of the cave. Here they pleased themselves a whole day with
beholding the giant's kitchen, where the flesh of sheep and goats lay
strewed; his dairy, where goat-milk stood ranged in troughs and pails; his
pens, where he kept his live animals; but those he had driven forth to
pasture with him when he went out in the morning. While they were feasting
their eyes with a sight of these curiosities, their ears were suddenly
deafened with a noise like the falling of a house. It was the owner of the
cave, who had been abroad all day feeding his flock, as his custom was, in
the mountains, and now drove them home in the evening from pasture. He
threw down a pile of fire-wood, which he had been gathering against
supper-time, before the mouth of the cave, which occasioned the crash they
heard. The Grecians hid themselves in the remote parts of the cave at
sight of the uncouth monster. It was Polyphemus, the largest and savagest
of the Cyclops, who boasted himself to be the son of Neptune. He looked
more like a mountain crag than a man, and to his brutal body he had a
brutish mind answerable. He drove his flock, all that gave milk, to the
interior of the cave, but left the rams and the he-goats without. Then
taking up a stone so massy that twenty oxen could not have drawn it, he
placed it at the mouth of the cave, to defend the entrance, and sat him
down to milk his ewes and his goats; which done, he lastly kindled a fire,
and throwing his great eye round the cave (for the Cyclops have no more
than one eye, and that placed in the midst of their forehead), by the
glimmering light he discerned some of Ulysses's men.
"Ho! guests, what are you? Merchants or wandering thieves?" he bellowed
out in a voice which took from them all power of reply, it was so
astounding.
Only Ulysses summoned resolution to answer, that they came neither for
plunder nor traffic, but were Grecians who had lost their way, returning
from Troy; which famous city, under the conduct of Agamemnon, the renowned
son of Atreus, they had sacked, and laid level with the ground. Yet now
they prostrated themselves humbly before his feet, whom they acknowledged
to be mightier than they, and besought him that he would bestow the rites
of hospitality upon them, for that Jove was the avenger of wrongs done to
strangers, and would fiercely resent any injury which they might suffer.
"Fool!" said the Cyclop, "to come so far to preach to me the fear of the
gods. We Cyclops care not for your Jove, whom you fable to be nursed by a
goat, nor any of your blessed ones. We are stronger than they, and dare
bid open battle to Jove himself, though you and all your fellows of the
earth join with him." And he bade them tell him where their ship was in
which they came, and whether they had any companions. But Ulysses, with a
wise caution, made answer that they had no ship or companions, but were
unfortunate men, whom the sea, splitting their ship in pieces, had dashed
upon his coast, and they alone had escaped. He replied nothing, but
gripping two of the nearest of them, as if they had been no more than
children, he dashed their brains out against the earth, and, shocking to
relate, tore in pieces their limbs, and devoured them yet warm and
trembling, making a lion's meal of them, lapping the blood; for the
Cyclops are _man-eaters_, and esteem human flesh to be a delicacy far
above goat's or kid's; though by reason of their abhorred customs few men
approach their coast, except some stragglers, or now and then a
shipwrecked mariner. At a sight so horrid, Ulysses and his men were like
distracted people. He, when he had made an end of his wicked supper,
drained a draught of goat's milk down his prodigious throat, and lay down
and slept among his goats. Then Ulysses drew his sword, and half resolved
to thrust it with all his might in at the bosom of the sleeping monster;
but wiser thoughts restrained him, else they had there without help all
perished, for none but Polyphemus himself could have removed that mass of
stone which he had placed to guard the entrance. So they were constrained
to abide all that night in fear.
When day came the Cyclop awoke, and kindling a fire, made his breakfast of
two other of his unfortunate prisoners, then milked his goats as he was
accustomed, and pushing aside the vast stone, and shutting it again when
he had done upon the prisoners, with as much ease as a man opens and shuts
a quiver's lid, he let out his flock, and drove them before him with
whistlings (as sharp as winds in storms) to the mountains.
Then Ulysses, of whose strength or cunning the Cyclop seems to have had as
little heed as of an infant's, being left alone, with the remnant of his
men which the Cyclop had not devoured, gave manifest proof how far manly
wisdom excels brutish force. He chose a stake from among the wood which
the Cyclop had piled up for firing, in length and thickness like a mast,
which he sharpened and hardened in the fire, and selected four men, and
instructed them what they should do with this stake, and made them perfect
in their parts.
When the evening was come, the Cyclop drove home his sheep; and as fortune
directed it, either of purpose, or that his memory was overruled by the
gods to his hurt (as in the issue it proved), he drove the males of his
flock, contrary to his custom, along with the dams into the pens. Then
shutting-to the stone of the cave, he fell to his horrible supper. When he
had despatched two more of the Grecians, Ulysses waxed bold with the
contemplation of his project, and took a bowl of Greek wine, and merrily
dared the Cyclop to drink.
[Illustration: _'Cyclop,' he said, 'take a bowl of wine from the hand of
your guest.'_]
"Cyclop," he said, "take a bowl of wine from the hand of your guest: it
may serve to digest the man's flesh that you have eaten, and show what
drink our ship held before it went down. All I ask in recompense, if you
find it good, is to be dismissed in a whole skin. Truly you must look to
have few visitors, if you observe this new custom of eating your guests."
The brute took and drank, and vehemently enjoyed the taste of wine, which
was new to him, and swilled again at the flagon, and entreated for more,
and prayed Ulysses to tell him his name, that he might bestow a gift upon
the man who had given him such brave liquor. The Cyclops, he said, had
grapes, but this rich juice, he swore, was simply divine. Again Ulysses
plied him with the wine, and the fool drank it as fast as he poured out,
and again he asked the name of his benefactor, which Ulysses, cunningly
dissembling, said, "My name is Noman: my kindred and friends in my own
country call me Noman."
"Then," said the Cyclop, "this is the kindness I will show thee, Noman: I
will eat thee last of all thy friends." He had scarce expressed his savage
kindness, when the fumes of the strong wine overcame him, and he reeled
down upon the floor and sank into a dead sleep.
Ulysses watched his time, while the monster lay insensible, and,
heartening up his men, they placed the sharp end of the stake in the fire
till it was heated red-hot, and some god gave them a courage beyond that
which they were used to have, and the four men with difficulty bored the
sharp end of the huge stake, which they had heated red-hot, right into the
eye of the drunken cannibal, and Ulysses helped to thrust it in with all
his might, still farther and farther, with effort, as men bore with an
auger, till the scalded blood gushed out, and the eye-ball smoked, and the
strings of the eye cracked, as the burning rafter broke in it, and the eye
hissed, as hot iron hisses when it is plunged into water.
He, waking, roared with the pain so loud that all the cavern broke into
claps like thunder. They fled, and dispersed into corners. He plucked the
burning stake from his eye, and hurled the wood madly about the cave. Then
he cried out with a mighty voice for his brethren the Cyclops, that dwelt
hard by in caverns upon hills; they, hearing the terrible shout, came
flocking from all parts to inquire, What ailed Polyphemus? and what cause
he had for making such horrid clamours in the night-time to break their
sleeps? if his fright proceeded from any mortal? if strength or craft had
given him his death's blow? He made answer from within that Noman had hurt
him, Noman had killed him, Noman was with him in the cave. They replied,
"If no man has hurt thee, and no man is with thee, then thou art alone,
and the evil that afflicts thee is from the hand of Heaven, which none can
resist or help." So they left him and went their way, thinking that some
disease troubled him. He, blind and ready to split with the anguish of the
pain, went groaning up and down in the dark, to find the doorway, which
when he found, he removed the stone, and sat in the threshold, feeling if
he could lay hold on any man going out with the sheep, which (the day now
breaking) were beginning to issue forth to their accustomed pastures. But
Ulysses, whose first artifice in giving himself that ambiguous name had
succeeded so well with the Cyclop, was not of a wit so gross to be caught
by that palpable device. But casting about in his mind all the ways which
he could contrive for escape (no less than all their lives depending on
the success), at last he thought of this expedient. He made knots of the
osier twigs upon which the Cyclop commonly slept; with which he tied the
fattest and fleeciest of the rams together, three in a rank, and under the
belly of the middle ram he tied a man, and himself last, wrapping himself
fast with both his hands in the rich wool of one, the fairest of the
flock.
And now the sheep began to issue forth very fast; the males went first,
the females, unmilked, stood by, bleating and requiring the hand of their
shepherd in vain to milk them, their full bags sore with being unemptied,
but he much sorer with the loss of sight. Still, as the males passed, he
felt the backs of those fleecy fools, never dreaming that they carried his
enemies under their bellies; so they passed on till the last ram came
loaded with his wool and Ulysses together. He stopped that ram and felt
him, and had his hand once in the hair of Ulysses, yet knew it not, and he
chid the ram for being last, and spoke to it as if it understood him, and
asked it whether it did not wish that its master had his eye again, which
that abominable Noman with his execrable rout had put out, when they had
got him down with wine; and he willed the ram to tell him whereabouts in
the cave his enemy lurked, that he might dash his brains and strew them
about, to ease his heart of that tormenting revenge which rankled in it.
After a deal of such foolish talk to the beast, he let it go.
When Ulysses found himself free, he let go his hold, and assisted in
disengaging his friends. The rams which had befriended them they carried
off with them to the ships, where their companions with tears in their
eyes received them, as men escaped from death. They plied their oars, and
set their sails, and when they were got as far off from shore as a voice
could reach, Ulysses cried out to the Cyclop: "Cyclop, thou shouldst not
have so much abused thy monstrous strength, as to devour thy guests. Jove
by my hand sends thee requital to pay thy savage inhumanity." The Cyclop
heard, and came forth enraged, and in his anger he plucked a fragment of a
rock, and threw it with blind fury at the ships. It narrowly escaped
lighting upon the bark in which Ulysses sat, but with the fall it raised
so fierce an ebb as bore back the ship till it almost touched the shore.
"Cyclop," said Ulysses, "if any ask thee who imposed on thee that
unsightly blemish in thine eye, say it was Ulysses, son of Laertes: the
king of Ithaca am I called, the waster of cities." Then they crowded sail,
and beat the old sea, and forth they went with a forward gale; sad for
fore-past losses, yet glad to have escaped at any rate; till they came to
the isle where Aeolus reigned, who is god of the winds.
Here Ulysses and his men were courteously received by the monarch, who
showed him his twelve children which have rule over the twelve winds. A
month they stayed and feasted with him, and at the end of the month he
dismissed them with many presents, and gave to Ulysses at parting an ox's
hide, in which were enclosed _all the winds_: only he left abroad the
western wind, to play upon their sails and waft them gently home to
Ithaca. This bag, bound in a glittering silver band so close that no
breath could escape, Ulysses hung up at the mast. His companions did not
know its contents, but guessed that the monarch had given to him some
treasures of gold or silver.
Nine days they sailed smoothly, favoured by the western wind, and by the
tenth they approached so nigh as to discern lights kindled on the shores
of their country earth: when, by ill-fortune, Ulysses, overcome with
fatigue of watching the helm, fell asleep. The mariners seized the
opportunity, and one of them said to the rest, "A fine time has this
leader of ours; wherever he goes he is sure of presents, when we come away
empty-handed; and see what King Aeolus has given him, store no doubt of
gold and silver." A word was enough to those covetous wretches, who quick
as thought untied the bag, and, instead of gold, out rushed with mighty
noise _all the winds_.
[Illustration: _Out rushed with mighty noise all the winds_.]
Ulysses with the noise awoke, and saw their mistake, but too late, for the
ship was driving with all the winds back far from Ithaca, far as to the
island of Aeolus from which they had parted, in one hour measuring back
what in nine days they had scarcely tracked, and in sight of home too! Up
he flew amazed, and, raving, doubted whether he should not fling himself
into the sea for grief of his bitter disappointment. At last he hid
himself under the hatches for shame. And scarce could he be prevailed
upon, when he was told he was arrived again in the harbour of King Aeolus,
to go himself or send to that monarch for a second succour; so much the
disgrace of having misused his royal bounty (though it was the crime of
his followers, and not his own) weighed upon him; and when at last he
went, and took a herald with him, and came where the god sat on his
throne, feasting with his children, he would not thrust in among them at
their meat, but set himself down like one unworthy in the threshold.
Indignation seized Aeolus to behold him in that manner returned; and he
said, "Ulysses, what has brought you back? Are you so soon tired of your
country; or did not our present please you? We thought we had given you a
kingly passport." Ulysses made answer: "My men have done this ill
mischief to me; they did it while I slept." "Wretch!" said Aeolus,
"avaunt, and quit our shores: it fits not us to convoy men whom the gods
hate, and will have perish."
Forth they sailed, but with far different hopes than when they left the
same harbour the first time with all the winds confined, only the west
wind suffered to play upon their sails to waft them in gentle murmurs to
Ithaca. They were now the sport of every gale that blew, and despaired of
ever seeing home more. Now those covetous mariners were cured of their
surfeit for gold, and would not have touched it if it had lain in untold
heaps before them.
Six days and nights they drove along, and on the seventh day they put into
Lamos, a port of the Laestrygonians. So spacious this harbour was that it
held with ease all their fleet, which rode at anchor, safe from any
storms, all but the ship in which Ulysses was embarked. He, as if
prophetic of the mischance which followed, kept still without the harbour,
making fast his bark to a rock at the land's point, which he climbed with
purpose to survey the country. He saw a city with smoke ascending from the
roofs, but neither ploughs going, nor oxen yoked, nor any sign of
agricultural works. Making choice of two men, he sent them to the city to
explore what sort of inhabitants dwelt there. His messengers had not gone
far before they met a damsel, of stature surpassing human, who was coming
to draw water from a spring. They asked her who dwelt in that land. She
made no reply, but led them in silence to her father's palace. He was a
monarch, and named Antiphas. He and all his people were giants. When they
entered the palace, a woman, the mother of the damsel, but far taller than
she, rushed abroad and called for Antiphas. He came, and snatching up one
of the two men, made as if he would devour him. The other fled. Antiphas
raised a mighty shout, and instantly, this way and that, multitudes of
gigantic people issued out at the gates, and, making for the harbour, tore
up huge pieces of the rocks and flung them at the ships which lay there,
all which they utterly overwhelmed and sank; and the unfortunate bodies of
men which floated, and which the sea did not devour, these cannibals
thrust through with harpoons, like fishes, and bore them off to their dire
feast. Ulysses with his single bark, that had never entered the harbour,
escaped; that bark which was now the only vessel left of all the gallant
navy that had set sail with him from Troy. He pushed off from the shore,
cheering the sad remnant of his men, whom horror at the sight of their
countrymen's fate had almost turned to marble.
Read next: CHAPTER TWO - The House of Circe--Men changed into Beasts--The Voyage to Hell--The Banquet of the Dead.
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