{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_26275/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_26275","id":"gutenberg_26275","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/26275","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Epic poetry, Greek -- History and criticism","Homer. Odyssey","Odysseus, King of Ithaca (Mythological character) -- In literature"],"text":"Produced by Steven Giacomelli and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was\nproduced from images generously made available by Case\nWestern Reserve University Preservation Department Digital\nLibrary)\n\n\n\n\n\n\nHomer's Odyssey.\n\n\nA Commentary\n\n\n\nBy\n\nDenton J. Snider\n\n\n\nThe Sigma Publishing Co.\n10 Van Buren St., Chicago, Ill.\n210 Pine St., St. Louis, Mo.\n\n\n\n\nTABLE OF CONTENTS.\n\n\n                                                       PAGE\n\nINTRODUCTION                                              5\n\n I. FIRST TWELVE BOOKS.\n\nTELEMACHIAD                                              21\n\nULYSSIAD                                                121\n        (1) OCYGIA                                      129\n        (2) PHAEACIA                                     156\n        (3) FABLELAND                                   231\n\nII. SECOND TWELVE BOOKS.\n\nITHAKEIAD                                               396\n    BOOKS 13-16 (PREPARATION)                           407\n    BOOKS 17-24 (EXECUTION)                             461\n        (1) WRONG (17-21)                               468\n        (2) PUNISHMENT (22)                             495\n        (3) RECONCILIATION (23-4)                       500\n\nSUMMARY                                                 511\n\n\n\n\n_HOMER'S ODYSSEY._\n\n\n\n\n_BOOK FIRST--INTRODUCTION._\n\n\nThe Odyssey starts by organizing itself; it maps out its own structure\nin what may be called a General Introduction. Herein lies a significant\ndifference between it and the Iliad, which has simply an Invocation to\nthe Muse, and then leaps into the thick of the action. The Iliad,\naccordingly, does not formulate its own organization, which fact has\nbeen one cause of the frequent assaults upon its unity. Still the\narchitectonic principle is powerful in the Iliad, though more\ninstinctive, and far less explicit than in the Odyssey. It is\nreasonable to suppose, therefore, that the poet has reached a\nprofounder consciousness of his art in his later poem; he has come to a\nknowledge of his constructive principle, and he takes the trouble to\nunfold the same at the beginning. To be sure, certain critics have\nassailed just this structural fact as not Homeric; without good\ngrounds, in our judgment.\n\nThe First Book, accordingly, opens with an Introduction which belongs\nto the entire poem, and which embraces 95 lines of the original text.\nThis portion we shall look at separately in some detail, as it throws a\nnumber of gleams forward over the whole action, and, as before said,\nsuggests the poetic organism. It has three divisions, the Invocation,\nthe Statement of the Obstacles to the return of the Hero, and the\nAssembly of the Gods, who are represented as organizing the poem from\nOlympus. The Divine thus hovers over the poem from the first, starting\nwith one grand, all-embracing providential act, which, however, is\nsupplemented by many special interventions of deities, great and small.\n\n_The Invocation._ The first line speaks of the man, Ulysses, and\ndesignates his main attribute by a word, which may be translated\n_versatile_ or _resourceful_, though some grammarians construe it\notherwise. Thus we are told at the start of the chief intellectual\ntrait of the Hero, who \"wandered much,\" and who, therefore, had many\nopportunities to exercise his gift. In the second line our attention is\ncalled to the real starting point of the poem, the taking of Troy,\nwhich is the background of the action of the Odyssey, and the great\nopening event of the Greek world, as here revealed. For this event was\nthe mighty shake which roused the Hellenic people to a consciousness of\ntheir destiny; they show in it all the germs of their coming greatness.\nOften such a concussion is required to waken a nation to its full\nenergy and send it on its future career.\n\nNote that Ulysses is here stated to be the taker of Troy, and this view\nis implied throughout the Odyssey. Note Achilles is the final Greek\nhero; he perished without capturing the city, and in his hands alone\nthe Greek cause would have been lost. The intellectual hero had to come\nforward ere the hostile town could be taken and Helen restored. Herein\nthe Odyssey does not contradict the Iliad, but is clearly an advance\nbeyond it.\n\nBut Troy is destroyed and now the second grand question of the Greeks\narises: How shall we get back! Only one half of the cycle is completed\nby the conquest of the hostile city; the second half is the\nrestoration. For this disjunction from Hellenic life, brought about by\nwar, is not only physical but has become spiritual. The theme,\ntherefore, deals with the wise man, who, through his intelligence, was\nable to take Troy, but who has now another and greater problem--the\nreturn out of the grand estrangement caused by the Trojan expedition.\nSpiritual restoration is the key-note of this _Odyssey_, as it is that\nof all the great Books of Literature.\n\nHere at the start we note two things coupled together which hint the\nnature of the whole poem: \"He saw the cities of many men and knew their\nmind.\" Not alone the outer habitations of people Ulysses beheld, but\nalso their inner essence, their consciousness. This last faculty indeed\nis the very vision of the sage; he looks through the external sensuous\nappearances of men into their character, into their very soul. The poem\nwill describe many incidents, wanderings, tempests, calamities; but in\nthem the poetic glance is to behold a great spiritual experience. The\nreader of the _Odyssey_ must himself be a Ulysses, to a degree, and not\nonly \"see the cities of many men,\" but also he must \"know their mind.\"\nThen he, too, is heroic in his reading of this book.\n\nBut not merely knowledge the Hero is to acquire, though this be much;\nthe counterpart to knowledge must also be his, namely, suffering. \"Many\nthings he suffered on the sea in his heart;\" alas! that too belongs to\nthe great experience. In addition to his title of wise man, he will\nalso be called the much-enduring man. Sorrow is his lot and great\ntribulation; the mighty sea will rise up in wrath and swallow all,\nexcept that which is mightier, namely his heroic heart. Knowledge and\nsuffering--are they not the two poles of the universal character? At\nany rate the old poet has mated them as counterparts in his hero; the\nthirst to know drives the latter to reach beyond, and then falls the\navenging blow of powers unseen.\n\nFurthermore, there is a third trait which is still higher, also\nmentioned here: he sought to save not only himself but also his\ncompanions. That wisdom of his was employed, and that suffering of his\nwas endured, not for his own good merely, but for the good of others.\nHe must think and suffer for his companions; a suggestion of\nvicariousness lies therein, a hint of self-offering, which has not yet\nflowered but is certainly budding far back in old Hellas. He must do\nfor others what he does for himself, if he be truly the universal man,\nthat is, if he be Hero. For is not the universal man all men--both\nhimself and others in essence? So Ulysses tries to save his companions,\nquite as much he tries to save himself.\n\nBut he did not do it, he could not do it; herein lies his limitation\nand theirs also, in fact, the limitation of the entire Greek world.\nWhat did these companions do? \"They perished by their own folly;\" they\nwould not obey the counsel of their wise man; they rejected their Hero,\nwho could not, therefore, rescue them. A greater wisdom and a deeper\nsuffering than that of Ulysses will be required for their salvation,\nwhereof the time has not yet come. He would bring them home, but \"they\nate of the oxen of the sun;\" they destroyed the attribute of light in\nsome way and perished. The fact is certainly far-reaching in its\nsuggestion; a deep glance it throws into that old heathen world, whose\ngreatest poet in the most unconscious manner hints here the tragic\nlimitation of his people and his epoch. It is a hint of which we,\nlooking back through more than twenty-five centuries can see the full\nmeaning, as that meaning has unfolded itself in the ages. Time is also\na commentator on Homer and has written down, in that alphabet of his,\ncalled events, the true interpretation of the old poet. Still the\nletters of Time's alphabet have also to be learned and require not only\neyesight but also insight.\n\nThe Invocation puts all its stress upon Ulysses and his attempt to save\nhis companions. It says nothing of Telemachus and his youthful\nexperience, nothing of the grand conflict with the suitors. Hence fault\nhas been found with it in various ways. But it singles out the Hero and\ndesignates three most important matters concerning him: his knowledge,\nhis suffering, his devotion to his companions. Enough; it has given a\nstart, a light has been put into our hand which beams forward\nsignificantly upon the poem, and illumines the mazes of the Hero's\ncharacter.\n\nMark again the emphatic word in this Invocation; it is the Return\n(_nostos_), the whole Odyssey is the Return, set forth in many\ngradations, from the shortest and simplest to the longest and\nprofoundest. The idea of the Return dominates the poem from the start;\ninto this idea is poured the total experience of Ulysses and his\ncompanions. The two points between which the Return hovers are also\ngiven: the capture of Troy and the Greek world. Not a mere book of\ntravels or adventure is this; it contains an inner restoration\ncorresponding to the outer Return, and the interpreter of the work, if\nhe be true to his function, will trace the interior line of its\nmovement, not neglecting the external side which has also a right to\nbe.\n\n_The Obstacles._ Two of these are mentioned and carried back to their\nmythical sources. All the returning heroes are home from Troy except\nthe chief one, Ulysses, whom Calypso detains in her grot, \"wishing him\nto be her husband;\" she, the unmarried, keeps him, the married, from\nfamily and country, though he longs to go back to both. She is the\ndaughter of \"the evil-minded Atlas,\" a hoary gigantesque shape of\nprimitive legend, \"who knows the depths of all the sea,\"--a dark\nknowledge of an unseen region, from which come many fatalities, as\nshipwreck for the Greek sailor or earthquake for the volcanic Greek\nislands; hence he is imagined as \"evil-minded\" by the Greek mythical\nfancy, which also makes him the supporter of \"the long columns which\nhold Heaven and Earth apart\"--surely a hard task, enough to cause\nanybody to be in a state of protest and opposition against the happy\nGods who have nothing to do but enjoy themselves on Olympus. Sometimes\nhe refuses to hold the long columns for awhile, then comes the\nearthquake, in which what is below starts heavenward. Of this Atlas,\nCalypso is the offspring, and possibly her island, \"the navel of the\nsea,\" is a product of one of his movements underneath the waters.\n\nHere we touch a peculiar vein in the mythical treatment of the Odyssey.\nThe fairy-tale, with its comprehensive but dark suggestiveness, is\ninterwoven into the very fibre of the poem. This remote Atlas is the\nfather of Calypso, \"the hider,\" who has indeed hidden Ulysses in her\nisland of pleasure which will hereafter be described. But in spite of\nhis \"concealment,\" Ulysses has aspiration, which calls down the help of\nthe Gods for fulfillment. Such is the first obstacle, which, we can\nsee, lies somewhere in the sensuous part of human nature.\n\nThe second obstacle is Neptune, whom we at once think of as the\nphysical sea--certainly a great barrier. The wrath of Neptune is also\nset off with a tale of wonder, which gives the origin of Polyphemus,\nthe Cyclops--a gigantic, monstrous birth of the sea, which produces so\nmany strange and huge shapes of living things. But Neptune is now far\naway, outside of the Greek world, so to speak, among the Ethiopians.\nThis implies a finite element in the Gods; they are here, there, and\nelsewhere; still they have the infinite characteristic also; they\neasily pass from somewhere into everywhere, and Ulysses will not escape\nNeptune.\n\nSuch, then, are the two obstacles, both connected far back with\nmythical beings of the sea, wherein we may note the marine character of\nthe Odyssey, which is a sea-poem, in contrast with the Iliad, which is\na land-poem. The physical environment, in which each of these songs has\nits primary setting, is in deep accord with their respective\nthemes--the one being more objective, singing of the deed, the other\nbeing more subjective, singing of the soul.\n\nAnd even in the two present obstacles we may note that the one,\nNeptune, seems more external--that of the physical sea; while the\nother, Calypso, seems more internal--that of the soul held in the\ncharms of the senses.\n\n_The Assembly of the Gods._ The two obstacles to the return of Ulysses\nare now to be considered by the Gods in council assembled. This is,\nindeed, the matter of first import; no great action, no great poem is\npossible outside of the divine order. This order now appears, having a\nvoice; the supreme authority of the world is to utter its decree\nconcerning the work. The poet at the start summons before us the\ngoverning principle of the universe in the persons of the Olympian\ndeities. On the other hand, note the solitary individual Ulysses, in a\nlonely island, with his aspiration for home and country, with his\nplan--will it be realized? The two sides must come together somehow;\nthe plan of the individual must fit into the plan of the Gods; only in\nthe cooperation of the human and divine is the deed, especially the\ngreat deed, possible. Accordingly we are now to behold far in advance\nthe sweep of the poem, showing whether the man's purpose and hope be in\nharmony with the government of the Gods.\n\nZeus is the supreme divinity, and he first speaks: \"How sorely mortals\nblame the Gods!\" It is indeed an alienated discordant time like the\nprimal fall in Eden. But why this blame? \"For they say that evils come\nfrom us, the Gods; whereas they, through their own follies, have\nsorrows beyond what is ordained.\" The first words of the highest God\nconcern the highest problem of the poem and of human life. It is a\nwrong theology, at least a wrong Homeric theology, to hold that the\nGods are the cause of human ills; these are the consequences of man's\nown actions. Furthermore, the cause is not a blind impersonal power\noutside of the individual, it is not Fate but man himself. What a lofty\nutterance! We hear from the supreme tribunal the final decision in\nregard to individual free-will and divine government.\n\nNot without significance is this statement put into the mouth of Zeus\nand made his first emphatic declaration. We may read therein how the\npoet would have us look at his poem and the intervention of the Gods.\nWe may also infer what is the Homeric view concerning the place of\ndivinity in the workings of the world.\n\nSuch being the command of Zeus, the interpreter has nothing to do but\nto obey. No longer shall we say that the Gods in this Odyssey destroy\nhuman freedom, but that they are deeply consistent with it; the divine\ninterference when it takes place is not some external agency beyond the\nman altogether, but is in some way his own nature, veritably the\nessence of his own will. Such is truly the thing to be seen; the poem\nis a poem of freedom, and yet a poem of providence; for do we not hear\nprovidence at the very start declaring man's free-will, and hence his\nresponsibility? The God, then, is not to destroy but to secure human\nliberty in action, and to assert it on proper occasions. Thus Zeus\nhimself has laid down the law, the fundamental principle of Homer's\nreligion as well as of his poem.\n\nHave the Gods, then, nothing to do in this world? Certainly they have,\nand this is the next point upon which we shall hear our supreme\nauthority, Zeus. He has in mind the case of AEgisthus whom the Gods\nwarned not to do the wicked deed; still he did it in spite of the\nwarning, and there followed the penalty. So the Gods admonish the\nwrong-doer, sending down their bright-flashing messenger Hermes, and\ndeclaring through him the great law of justice: the deed will return\nunto the doer. Zeus has now given expression to the law which governs\nthe world; it is truly his law, above all caprice. Moreover, the God\ngives a warning to the sinner; a divine mercy he shows even in the\nheathen world.\n\nThe case of AEgisthus, which Zeus has in mind, is indeed a striking\nexample of a supreme justice which smites the most exalted and\nsuccessful criminal. It made a profound impression upon the Greek\nworld, and took final shape in the sublime tragedy of AEschylus.\nThroughout the _Odyssey_ the fateful story peeps from the background,\nand strongly hints what is to become of the suitors of Penelope, who\nare seeking to do to Ulysses what AEgisthus did to Agamemnon. They will\nperish, is the decree; thus we behold at the beginning of the poem an\nimage which foreshadows the end. That is the image of AEgisthus, upon\nwhom vengeance came for the wrongful deed.\n\nThe Gods, then, do really exist; they are the law and the voice of the\nlaw also, to which man may hearken if he will; but he can disobey, if\nhe choose, and bring upon himself the consequences. The law exists as\nthe first fact in the world, and will work itself out with the Gods as\nexecutors. Is not this a glorious starting-point for a poem which\nproposes to reveal the ways of providence unto men? The idea of the\nHomeric world-order is now before us, which we may sum up as follows:\nthe Gods are in the man, in his reason and conscience, as we moderns\nsay; but they are also outside of man, in the world, of which they are\nrulers. The two sides, divine and human, must be made one; the grand\ndualism between heaven and earth must be overcome in the deed of the\nhero, as well as in the thought of the reader. When the God appears, it\nis to raise man out of himself into the universal realm where lies his\ntrue being. Again, let it be affirmed that the deities are not an\nexternal fate, not freedom-destroying power, but freedom-fulfilling,\nsince they burst the narrow limits of the mere individual and elevate\nhim into unity and harmony with the divine order. There he is truly\nfree.\n\nThus we hear Zeus in his first speech announcing from Olympus the two\ngreat laws which govern the world, as well as this poem--that of\nfreedom and that of justice. The latter, indeed, springs from the\nformer; if man be free, he must be held responsible and receive the\npenalty of the wicked deed. Moreover, it is the fundamental law of\ncriticism for the _Odyssey_; freedom and justice we are to see in it\nand unfold them in accord with the divine order; woe be to the critic\nwho disobeys the decree of Zeus, and sees in his poem only an amusing\ntale, or a sun-myth perchance.\n\nBut here is Pallas Athena speaking to the supreme deity, and noting\nwhat seems to be an exception. It is the case of Ulysses, who always\n\"gave sacrifices to the immortal Gods,\" who has done his duty, and\nwishes to return to family and country. Pallas hints the difficulty;\nCalypso the charmer, seeks to detain him in her isle from his wedded\nwife and to make him forget Ithaca; but she cannot. Strong is his\naspiration, he is eager to break the trance of the fair nymph, and the\nGods must help him, when he is ready to help himself. Else, indeed,\nthey were not Gods. Then there is the second obstacle, Neptune; he,\n\"only one,\" cannot hold out \"against all,\" for the All now decrees the\nrestoration of the wanderer. Verily it is the voice of the totality,\nwhich is here uttered by Zeus, ordering the return of Ulysses; the\nreason of the world we may also call it, if that will help the little\nbrain take in the great thought.\n\nBut we must not forget the other side. This divine power is not simply\nexternal; the mighty hand of Zeus is not going to pick up Ulysses from\nCalypso's island, and set him down in Ithaca. He must return through\nhimself, yet must fit into the providential order. Both sides are\ntouched upon by Zeus; Ulysses \"excels mortals in intelligence,\" and he\nwill now require it all; but he also \"gives sacrifices to the Gods\nexceedingly,\" that is, he seeks to find out the will of the Gods and\nadjust himself thereto. Intellect and piety both he has, often in\nconflict, but in concord at last. With that keen understanding of his\nhe will repeatedly fall into doubt concerning the divine purpose; but\nout of doubt he rises into a new harmony.\n\nWhen the decree of the Highest has been given, Pallas at once organizes\nthe return of Ulysses, and therewith the poem. This falls into three\nlarge divisions:--\n\nI. Pallas goes to Ithaca to rouse Telemachus, who is just entering\nmanhood, to be a second Ulysses. He is to give the divine warning to\nthe guilty suitors; then he is to go to Pylos and Sparta in order to\ninquire about his father, who is the great pattern for the son. Thus we\nhave a book of education for the Homeric youth whose learning came\nthrough example and through the living word of wisdom from the lips of\nthe old and experienced man. This part embraces the first four Books,\nwhich may be called the Telemachiad.\n\nII. Mercury is sent to Calypso to bid the nymph release Ulysses, who at\nonce makes his raft and starts on his voyage homeward. In this second\npart we shall have the entire story of the Hero from the time he leaves\nTroy, till he reaches Ithaca in the 13th Book. As Telemachus the youth\nis to have his period of education (_Lehrjahre_), so Ulysses the man is\nto have his experience of the journey of life (_Wanderjahre_). Both\nparts belong together, making a complete work on the education of man,\nas it could be had in that old Greek world. This part is the Odyssey\nproper, or the Ulyssiad.\n\nIII. The third part brings together father and son in Ithaca; then it\nportrays them uniting to perform the great deed of justice, the\npunishment of the suitors. This part embraces the last twelve Books,\nbut is not distinctly set forth in the plan of Pallas as here given.\n\nSuch is the structure of the poem, which is organized in its main\noutlines from Olympus. It is Pallas, the deity of wisdom, who has\nordered it in this way; her we shall follow, in preference to the\ncritics, and unfold the interpretation on the same organic lines. Every\nreader will feel that the three great joints of the poetical body are\ntruly foreshadowed by the Goddess, who indeed is the constructive\nprinciple of the poem. One likes to see this belief of the old singer\nthat his work was of divine origin, was actually planned upon Olympus\nby Pallas in accordance with the decree of Zeus. So at least the Muses\nhave told him, and they were present. But the grandest utterance here\nis that of Zeus, the Greek Providence, proclaiming man's free will.\n\nVery old and still very new is the problem of the Odyssey; with a\nlittle care we can see that the Homeric Greek had to solve in his way\nwhat every one of us still has to solve, namely, the problem of life.\nOnly yesterday one might have heard the popular preacher of a great\ncity, a kind of successor to Homer, blazoning the following text as his\ntheme: God is not to blame. Thus the great poem has an eternal subject,\nthough its outer garb be much changed by time. The soul of Homer is\nethical, and that is what makes him immortal. Not till we realize this\nfact, can we be said in any true sense, to understand him.\n\n\nTELEMACHIAD.\n\nThe Introduction being concluded, the story of Telemachus begins, and\ncontinues till the Fifth Book. Two main points stand forth in the\nnarrative. The first is the grand conflict with the suitors, the men of\nguilt, the disturbers of the divine order; this conflict runs through\nto the end of the poem, where they are swept out of the world which\nthey have thrown into discord. The second point of the Telemachiad is\nthe education of Telemachus, which is indeed the chief fact of these\nBooks; the youth is to be trained to meet the conflict which is looming\nup before him in the distance. Thus we have one of the first\neducational books of the race, the very first possibly; it still has\nmany valuable hints for the educator of the present age. Its method is\nthat of oral tradition, which has by no means lost its place in a true\ndiscipline of the human spirit. Living wisdom has its advantage to-day\nover the dead lore of the text-books.\n\nVery delightful is the school to which we see Telemachus going in these\nfour Books. Heroes are his instructors, men of the deed as well as of\nthe word, and the source from which all instruction is derived is the\ngreatest event of the age, the Trojan War. The young man is to learn\nwhat that event was, what sacrifices it required, what characters it\ndeveloped among his people. He is to see and converse with Nestor,\nfamous at Troy for eloquence and wisdom. Then he will go to Menelaus,\nwho has had an experience wider than the Trojan experience, for the\nlatter has been in Egypt. Young Telemachus is also to behold Helen,\nbeautiful Helen, the central figure of the great struggle. Finally, he\nis to learn much about his father, and thus be prepared for the\napproaching conflict with the suitors in Ithaca.\n\n_Book First specially._ After the total Odyssey has been organized on\nOlympus, it begins at once to descend to earth and to realize itself\nthere. For the great poem springs from the Divine Idea, and must show\nits origin in the course of its own unfolding. Hence the Gods are the\nstarting-point of the Odyssey, and their will goes before the\nterrestrial deed; moreover, the one decree of theirs overarches the\npoem from beginning to end, as the heavens bend over man wherever he\nmay take his stand. Still there will be many special interventions and\nreminders from the Gods during this poetical journey.\n\nIn accordance with the Olympian plan, Pallas takes her flight down to\nIthaca, after binding on her winged sandals and seizing her mighty\nspear; thus she humanizes herself to the Greek plastic sense, and\nassumes finite form, adopting the shape of a stranger, Mentes, King of\nthe Taphians. She finds a world full of wrong; violence and disorder\nrule in the house of the absent Ulysses; it is indeed high time for the\nGods to come down from lofty Olympus and bring peace and right into the\ncourse of things. Let the divine image now be stamped upon terrestrial\naffairs, and bring harmony out of strife. Still, it must not be\nforgotten that the work has to be done through man's own activity.\n\nThe conflict which unfolds before our eyes in a series of clear-drawn\nclassic pictures, lies between the House of Ulysses on the one hand and\nthe Suitors of Penelope on the other. He who is the head of the Family\nand the ruler of State, Ulysses, has been absent for twenty years;\ngodless men have taken advantage of the youth of his son, and are\nconsuming his substance wantonly; they also are wooing his wife who has\nonly her cunning wherewith to help herself. The son and wife are now to\nbe brought before us in their struggle with their bitter lot. Thus we\nnote the two main divisions in the structure of the present Book: The\nHouse of Ulysses and the Suitors.\n\n\nI.\n\nThe Goddess Pallas has already come down to Ithaca and stands among the\nsuitors. She has taken the form of Mentes, the King of a neighboring\ntribe; she is in disguise as she usually is when she appears on earth.\nWho will recognize her? Not the suitors; they can see no God in their\ncondition, least of all, the Goddess of Wisdom. \"Telemachus was much\nthe first to observe her;\" why just he? The fact is he was ready to see\nher, and not only to see her, but to hear what she had to say. \"For he\nsat among the suitors grieved in heart, seeing his father in his mind's\neye,\" like Hamlet just before the latter saw the ghost. So careful is\nthe poet to prepare both sides--the divine epiphany, and the mortal who\nis to behold it.\n\nFurthermore, the young man saw his father \"scattering the suitors and\nhimself obtaining honor and ruling his own house.\" This is just what\nthe Goddess is going to tell with a new sanction, and it is just what\nis going to happen in the course of the poem. Truly Telemachus is\nprepared internally; he has already everything within him which is to\ncome out of him. Throughout the whole interview the two main facts are\nthe example of the parent and the final revenge, both of which are\nurged by the Goddess without and by the man within.\n\nStill there is a difference. Telemachus is despondent; we might almost\nsay, he is getting to disbelieve in any divine order of the world. \"The\nGods plot evil things\" against the House of Ulysses, whose fate \"they\nmake unknown above that of all men.\" Then they have sent upon me these\nsuitors who consume my heritage. The poor boy has had a hard time; he\nhas come to question providence in his misery, and discredits the\ngoodness of the Gods.\n\nHere, now, is the special function of Pallas. She instills courage into\nhis heart. She gives strong hope of the return of his father, who \"will\nnot long be absent from Ithaca;\" she also hints the purpose of the\nGods, which is on the point of fulfillment. Be no longer a child;\nfollow the example of thy father; go and learn about him and emulate\nhis deeds. Therewith the Goddess furnishes to the doubting youth a plan\nof immediate action--altogether the best thing for throwing off his\nmental paralysis. He is to proceed at once to Pylos and to Sparta \"to\nlearn of his father\" with the final outlook toward the destruction of\nthe suitors. She is a veritable Goddess to the young striver, speaking\nthe word of hope and wisdom, and then turning him back upon himself.\n\nHere again we must say that the Goddess was in the heart of Telemachus\nuttering her spirit, yet she was external to him also. Her voice is the\nvoice of the time, of the reality; all things are fluid to the hand of\nTelemachus, and ready to be moulded to his scheme. Still the Goddess is\nin him just as well, is his thought, his wisdom, which has now become\none with the reason of the world. Both sides are brought together by\nthe Poet in the most emphatic manner; this is the supreme fact in his\nprocedure. The subjective and objective elements are one; the divine\norder puts its seal on the thought of the man, unites with him, makes\nhis plan its plan. Thus the God and the Individual are in harmony, and\nthe great fulfillment becomes possible. But if the thought of\nTelemachus were a mere scheme of his own, if it had not received the\nstamp of divinity, then it could never become the deed, the heroic\ndeed, which stands forth in the world existent in its own right and\neternal.\n\nThe Goddess flits away, \"like a bird,\" in speed and silence. Telemachus\nnow recognizes that the stranger was a divinity. For has he not the\nproof in his own heart? He is indeed a new person or the beginning\nthereof. But hark to this song! It is the bard singing \"the sad return\nof the Greeks\"--the very song which the poet himself is now singing in\nthis Odyssey. For it is also a sad return, indeed many sad returns, as\nwe shall see hereafter. Homer has thus put himself into his poem\nsinging his poem. Who cannot feel that this touch is taken from life,\nis an echo of his own experience in some princely hall?\n\nBut here she comes, the grand lady of the story, Penelope, the wife of\nUlysses, as it were in response to the music. A glorious appearance at\na happy moment; yet she is not happy: \"Holding a veil before her face,\nand shedding tears, she bespoke the bard: Phemius cease from this sad\nsong, it cuts me to the heart.\" It reminds her of her husband and his\nsorrowful return, not yet accomplished; she cannot endure the anguish\nand she begs the bard to sing another strain which may delight his\nhearers.\n\nThis, then, is the sage Penelope whose character will be tested in many\nways, and move through many subtle turns to the end of the poem. In\nthis her first appearance we note that she proclaims in the presence of\nthe suitors her undying love for her husband. This trait we may fairly\nconsider to be the deepest of her nature. She thinks of him continually\nand weeps at his absence. Still she has her problem which requires at\ntimes all her female tact, yes, even dissimulation. Reckless suitors\nare pressing for her hand, she has to employ all her arts to defer the\nhateful marriage; otherwise she is helpless. She is the counterpart of\nher husband, a female Ulysses, who has waited twenty years for his\nreturn. She also has had a stormy time, with the full experience of\nlife; her adventures in her world rival his in his world. But\nunderneath all her cunning is the rock of eternal fidelity. She went\nback to her room, and wept for her husband \"till Pallas closed her\neye-lids in sweet sleep.\"\n\nNor can we pass over the answer of Telemachus, which he makes at this\npoint to his mother. It may be called a little Homeric treatise on\npoetry. \"Mother, let the poet sing as his spirit moves him;\" he is not\nto be constrained, but must give the great fact; \"poets are not to\nblame but Zeus,\" for the sad return of the Greeks; \"men applaud the\nsong which is newest,\" novelty being already sought for in the\nliterature of Homer's time. But the son's harsh reproof of the mother,\nwith which his speech closes, bidding her look after her own affairs,\nthe loom and distaff and servants, is probably an interpolation. Such\nis the judgment of Aristarchus, the greatest ancient commentator on\nHomer; such is also the judgment of Professor Nitzsch, the greatest\nmodern commentator on the Odyssey.\n\n\nII.\n\nThe other side of the collision is the party of suitors, who assail the\nHouse of Ulysses in property, in the son, in the wife, and finally in\nUlysses himself. They are the wrong-doers whose deeds are to be avenged\nby the returning hero; their punishment will exemplify the faith in an\nethical order of the world, upon which the poem reposes as its very\nfoundation. They are insolent, debauched, unjust; they defy the\nestablished right. Zeus has them in mind when he speaks of AEgisthus,\nwho is an example of the same sort of characters, and his fate is their\nfate according to the Olympian lawgiver. They too are going to\ndestruction through their own folly, yet after many an admonition. Just\nnow Telemachus has spoken an impressive warning: \"I shall invoke the\never-living Gods, that Zeus may grant deeds requiting yours.\"\n\nStill their insolence goes on; the ethical world of justice and\ninstitutions has to be cleared of such men, if it continue to exist.\nWho does not love this fealty of the old bard to the highest order of\nthings? The suitors are indeed blind; they have not recognized the\npresence of the Goddess, yet there is a slight suspicion after she is\ngone; one of the suitors asks who that stranger was. Telemachus, to\nlull inquiry, gives the outer assumed form of the divine visitor, \"an\nancestral guest, Mentes of Taphos;\" the poet however, is careful to\nadd: \"But he (Telemachus) knew the immortal Goddess in his mind.\"\n\nThe conflict with the suitors is the framework of the entire poem. The\neducation of Telemachus as well as the discipline of Ulysses reach\nforward to this practical end--the destruction of the wrong-doers,\nwhich is the purification of the country, and the re-establishment of\nthe ethical order. All training is to bring forth the heroic act. The\nnext Book will unfold the conflict in greater detail.\n\n_Appendix._ The reader will have observed that, in the preceding\naccount of Book First, it is regarded as setting forth three unities,\nthat of the total Odyssey, that of the Telemachiad, and that of the\nBook itself. We see them all gradually unfolding in due order under the\nhand of the poet, from the largest to the least. Now the reader should\nbe informed that every one of these unities has been violently attacked\nand proclaimed to be a sheer phantasm. Chiefly in Germany has the\nassault taken place. What we have above considered as the joints in the\norganism of the poem, have been cut into, pried apart, and declared to\nmake so many separate poems or passages, which different authors have\nwritten. Thus the one great Homer vanishes into many little Homers, and\nthis is claimed to be the only true way of appreciating Homer.\n\nThe most celebrated of these dissectors is probably the German\nProfessor, Kirchhoff, some of whose opinions we shall cite in this\nappendix. His psychological tendency is that of analysis, separation,\ndivision; the very idea of unity seems a bugbear to him, a mighty\ndelusion which he must demolish or die. Specially is his wrath directed\nagainst Book First, probably because it contains the three unities\nabove mentioned, all of which he assails and rends to shreds in his own\nopinion.\n\nThe entire Introduction (lines 1-88) he tears from its present place\nand puts it before the Fifth Book, where it serves as the prelude to\nthe Calypso tale. The rest of the Telemachiad is the work of another\npoet. Indeed the rest of the First Book (after the Introduction) is not\nby the same man who produced the Second Book. Then the Second Book is\ncertainly older than the First, and ought somehow to be placed before\nit. The real truth is, however, that the First Book is only a\nhodge-podge made out of the Second Book by an inferior poet, who took\nthence fragments of sentences and of ideas and stitched them together.\nIn the Invocation Kirchhoff cuts out the allusion to the oxen of the\nSun (lines 6-9) as being inconsistent with his theory.\n\nAfter disposing of the Introduction in this way, Kirchhoff takes up the\nremaining portion of the First Book, which he tears to pieces almost\nline by line. In about forty separate notes on different passages he\nmarks points for skepticism, having in the main one procedure: he hunts\nboth the Iliad and the Odyssey through, and if he finds a line or\nphrase, and even a word used elsewhere, which he has observed here, he\nat once is inclined to conclude that the same must have been taken\nthence and put here by a foreign hand. Every reader of Homer is\nfamiliar with his habit of repeating lines and even entire passages,\nwhen necessary. All such repetitions Kirchhoff seizes upon as signs of\ndifferent authorship; the poet must have used the one, some redactor or\nimitator the other. To be sure we ought to have a criterion by which we\ncan tell which is the original and which is the derived; but such a\ncriterion Kirchhoff fails to furnish, we must accept his judgment as\nimperial and final. Once or twice, indeed, he seems to feel the\nfaultiness of his procedure, and tries to bolster it, but as a rule he\nspeaks thus: \"The following verse is a formula (repetition), and\n_hence_ not the property of the author.\" (_Die Homerische Odyssee_, p.\n174.)\n\nNow such repetitions are common in all old poetry, in the ballad, in\nthe folk-song, in the _Kalevala_ as well as in the Homeric poems.\nMessages sent are repeated naturally when delivered; the same event\nrecurring, as when the boat is rowed, the banquet prepared, or the\narmor put on, is described in the same language. Such is usually felt\nto be a mark of epic simplicity, of the naive use of language, which\nwill not vary a phrase merely for the sake of variety. But Kirchhoff\nand his followers will have it just the other way; the early poet never\nvaries or repeats, only the later poet does that. So he seeks out a\nlarge number of passages in the rest of the Odyssey, and in the Iliad\nalso, which have something in common with passages of this First Book,\nespecially in the matter of words, and easily finds it to be a \"cento,\"\na mixed mass of borrowed phrases.\n\nBut who was the author of such work? Not the original Homer, but some\nlater matcher and patcher, imitator or redactor. It is not easy to tell\nfrom Kirchhoff just how many persons may have had a hand in this making\nof the Odyssey, as it lies before us. In his dissertations we read of a\nmotley multitude: original poet, continuator, interpolator, redactor,\nreconstructor, imitator, author of the older part, author of the newer\npart--not merely individuals, but apparently classes of men. Thus he\nanatomizes old Homer with a vengeance.\n\n\n\n\n_BOOK SECOND._\n\n\nThe general relation between the First and Second Books is to be\ngrasped at once. In the First Book the main fact is the Assembly in the\nUpper World, together with the descent of the divine influence which\nthrough Pallas comes to Telemachus in person, gives him courage and\nstirs him to action. This action is to bring harmony into the\ndiscordant land. In the Second Book the main fact is the Assembly in\nthe Lower World, together with the rise of Telemachus into a new\nparticipation with divine influence in the form of Pallas, who sends\nhim forth on his journey of education. We behold, therefore, in the two\nBooks a sweep from above to below, then from below back to the divine\ninfluence. Earth and Olympus are the halves of the cycle, but the Earth\nis in discord and must be transformed to the harmony of Olympus.\n\nLooking now at the Second Book by itself, we note that it falls into\ntwo portions: the Assembly of the People, which has been called\ntogether by Telemachus, and the communion of the youth with Pallas, who\nagain appears to him at his call. The first is a mundane matter, and\nshows the Lower World in conflict with the divine order--the sides\nbeing the Suitors on the one hand and the House of Ulysses on the\nother. The second portion lifts the young hero into a vision of\ndivinity, and should lift the reader along with him. Previously Pallas\nhad, as it were, descended into Telemachus, but now he rises of himself\ninto the Goddess. Clearly he possesses a new power, that of communion\nwith the Gods. These two leading thoughts divide the Book into two\nwell-marked parts--the first including lines 1-259, the second\nincluding the rest.\n\n\nI.\n\nThe Assembly of the Ithacans presupposes a political habit of gathering\ninto the town-meeting and consulting upon common interests. This usage\nis common to the Aryan race, and from it spring parliaments,\ncongresses, and other cognate institutions, together with oratory\nbefore the People. A wonderful development has come of this little\ngerm, which we see here still alive in Ithaca, though it has been\nalmost choked by the unhappy condition of things. Not since Ulysses\nleft has there been any such Assembly, says the first speaker, an old\nman drawing upon his memory, not for twenty years; surely a sign of\nsmothered institutional life. The first thing which Telemachus in his\nnew career does is to call the Assembly, and start this institutional\nlife into activity again. Whereof we feel the fresh throb in the words\nof the aged speaker, who calls him \"Blessed.\"\n\nNow the oratory begins, as it must begin in such a place. The golden\ngift of eloquence is highly prized by Homer, and by the Homeric People;\nprophetic it is, one always thinks of the great Attic orators. The\nspeakers are distinctly marked in character by their speeches; but the\nAssembly itself seems to remain dumb; it was evidently divided into two\nparties; one well-disposed to the House of Ulysses, the other to the\nSuitors. The corruption of the time has plainly entered the soul of the\nPeople, and thorough must be the cleansing by the Gods. Two kinds of\nspeakers we notice also, on the same lines, supporting each side; thus\nthe discord of Ithaca is now to be reflected in its oratory. Three sets\nof orators speak on each side, placing before us the different phases\nof the case; these we shall mark off for the thought and for the eye of\nthe reader.\n\n1. After the short opening speech of the old man, AEgyptius, the heart\nof the whole movement utters itself in Telemachus, who remains the\nchief speaker throughout. His speech is strong and bold; from it two\nmain points peer forth. The first is the wrong of the Suitors, who will\nnot take the right way of wooing Penelope by going to her father and\ngiving the bridal gift according to custom, but consume the son's\nproperty under pretense of their suit for the mother. The second point\nis the strong appeal to the Ithacans--to their sense of right, to their\nsense of shame, and to their fear of the Gods, who \"in their divine\nwrath shall turn back ill deeds upon the doer.\" But in vain; that\nIthacan Assembly contains friends and relatives of the Suitors, and\npossibly purchased adherents; nay, it contains some of the Suitors\nthemselves, and here rises one of them to make a speech in reply.\n\nThis is Antinous, who now makes the most elaborate defense of the case\nof the Suitors that is to be found in the poem. The speech is\nremarkable for throwing the whole blame upon Penelope--not a gallant\nproceeding in a lover; still it betrays great admiration for the woman\non account of her devices and her cunning. She has thwarted and fooled\nthe whole band of unwelcome wooers for three years and more by her\nwonderful web, which she wove by day and unraveled by night. And even\nnow when she has been found out, she holds them aloof but keeps them in\ngood humor, though clearly at a great expense of the family's property,\nwhich fact has roused Telemachus to his protest. Antinous, though\nfeeling that he and the rest have been outwitted by the woman, does not\nstint his praise on that account, he even heightens it.\n\nBut we hear also his ultimatum: \"Send thy mother away and bid her be\nmarried to whomsoever her father commands, and whoso is pleasing to\nher.\" So the will of the parent and the choice of the daughter had to\ngo together even in Homer's days. Of course Antinous has no ground of\nright for giving this order; he is not the master of the house, though\nhe hopes to be; his assumed authority is pure insolence. Then why\nshould the Suitors injure the son because they have been wheedled by\nthe mother? Still they will continue to consume \"his living and his\nwealth as long as she keeps her present mind.\"\n\nBut the most interesting thing in his speech is to discover the\nattitude and motives of Penelope. We see her fidelity, but something\nmore than fidelity is now needed, namely the greatest skill,\ndissimulation, or female tact, to use the more genteel word. She has a\nhard problem on her hands; she has to save her son, herself, and as\nmuch of the estate as she can, from a set of bandits who have all in\ntheir might. Were she to undertake to drive them away, they would\npillage the house, kill her boy, and certainly carry her off. They have\nthe power, they have the inclination; they are held by one small thread\nin the weak hands of a woman, but with that thread she snares them all,\nto the last man. Love it may be called, of a certain sort; we see how\nAntinous admires her, though conscious that she has made a fool of him\nand his fellows. Each hopes to win the prize yet, and she feeds them\nwith hope, \"sending private messages to each man;\" thus she turns every\none of them against the other, and prevents concerted action which\nlooks to violence. That wonderful female gift is hers, the gift of\nmaking each of her hundred Suitors think that just he is the favored\none, only let it be kept secret now till the right time comes!\n\nBut Penelope uses this gift as a weapon, it is her means of saving the\nHouse of Ulysses, while many another fair lady uses it for the fun of\nthe thing. Is she right? Does her end justify her means? True she is in\nthe highest degree to Family and State, is saving both; but she does\ndissemble, does cajole the suitors. One boy, one woman, one old man in\nthe country constitute the present strength of the House of Ulysses;\nbut craft meets violence and undoes it, as always.\n\nAnd yet we may grant something to the other side of her character. She\ntakes pleasure in the exercise of her gift, who does not? Inasmuch as\nthe Suitors are here, and not to be dismissed, she will get a certain\ngratification out of their suit. A little dash of coquetry, a little\nlove of admiration we may discern peeping through her adamantine\nfidelity to her husband, recollect after an absence of twenty years. As\nall this homage was thrust upon her, she seeks to win from it a kind of\nsatisfaction; the admiration of a hundred men she tries to receive\nwithout making a sour face. Still further she takes pleasure in the\nexercise of that feminine subtlety which holds them fast in the web,\nyet keeps them off; giving them always hope, but indefinitely extending\nit. Verily that web which she wove is the web of Fate for the Suitors.\nSo much for Penelope at present, whom we shall meet again.\n\nTo this demand of Antinous to send the mother away, Telemachus makes a\nnoble, yes, a heroic response. It would be wrong all around, wrong to\nthe mother, wrong to her father, unless he (Telemachus) restored the\ndower, wrong to the Gods; vengeance from the Erinyes, and nemesis from\nman would come upon him for such a deed. Thus the young hero appeals to\nthe divine order and puts himself in harmony with its behests. Boldly\nhe declares, that if the Suitors continue in their ill-doing, \"I shall\ninvoke the ever-living Gods; if Zeus may grant fit retribution for your\ncrimes, ye shall die within this palace unavenged.\" Truly a speech\ngiven with a power which brings fulfillment; prophetic it must be, if\nthere be any Gods in the world. Already we have seen that Telemachus\nwas capable of this high mood, which communes with deity and utters the\ndecree from above. Behold, no sooner is the word uttered by the mortal,\nthan we have the divine response. It is in the form of an omen, the\nflight of two eagles tearing each other as they fly to the right\nthrough the houses of the town. Also the interpreter is present, who\ntells the meaning of the sign, and stamps the words of Telemachus with\nthe seal of the Gods.\n\n2. Here we pass to the second set of speeches which show more\ndistinctively the religious phase, in contrast to the preceding set,\nwhich show rather the institutional phase, of the conflict; that is,\nthe Gods are the theme of the one, Family and State of the other. The\nold augur Halitherses, the man of religion, explains the omen in full\nharmony with what Telemachus has said; he prophesies the speedy return\nof Ulysses and the punishment of the Suitors, unless they desist. Well\nmay the aged prophet foretell some such outcome, after seeing the\nspirit of the son; Vengeance is indeed in the air, and is felt by the\nsensitive seer, and also by the sensitive reader.\n\nBut what is the attitude of the Suitors toward such a view? Eurymachus\nis the name of their speaker now, manifestly a representative man of\ntheir kind. He derides the prophet: \"Go home, old man, and forecast for\nthy children!\" He is a scoffer and skeptic; truly a spokesman of the\nSuitors in their relation to the Gods, in whom they can have no living\nfaith; through long wickedness they imagine that there is no\nretribution, they have come to believe their own lie. Impiety, then, is\nthe chief fact of this speech, which really denies the world-government\nand the whole lesson of this poem. Thus the divine warning is\ncontemned, the call to a change of conduct goes unheeded.\n\n3. Then we have the third set of speeches which are personal in their\nleading note, and pertain to the absent Ulysses, whose kindness and\nregal character are set forth by Mentor, his old comrade, with strong\nreproaches toward the Ithacans for permitting the wrong to his house.\nIt is intimated that they could prevent it if they chose; but they are\nevidently deaf to this appeal to their gratitude and affection for\ntheir chieftain.\n\nLeiocrates, the third Suitor, responds in a speech which is the\nculmination of insolence and defiance of right. The Suitors would slay\nUlysses himself, should he now appear and undertake to put them out of\nhis palace. He dares not come and claim his own! Right or wrong we are\ngoing to stay, and, if necessary, kill the owner. It is the most open\nand complete expression of the spirit of the Suitors, they are a lot of\nbrigands, who must be swept away, if there be any order in the world.\nLeiocrates dissolves the Assembly, a thing which he evidently had no\nright to do; the people tamely obey, the institutional spirit is not\nstrong enough to resist the man of violence. Let them scatter; they are\na rotten flock of sheep at any rate.\n\nHere the first part of the Book concludes. The three sets of speakers\nhave given their views, one on each side; each set has represented a\ncertain phase of the question; thus we have heard the institutional,\nreligious and personal phases. In such manner the sweep of the conduct\nof the Suitors is fully brought out; they are destroying State and\nFamily, are defying the Gods, and are ready to slay the individual who\nmay stand in their way. Certainly their harvest is ripe for the sickle\nof divine justice, upon whose deep foundation this poem reposes.\n\nThe Assembly of the People now vanishes quite out of sight, it has\nindeed no valid ground of being. The young men seem to be the chief\nspeakers, and show violent opposition, while the old men hold back, or\nmanifest open sympathy with the House of Ulysses. The youth of Ithaca\nhave had their heads turned by the brilliant prize, and rush forward\nforgetful of the penalty. It is indeed a time of moral loosening, of\nwhich this poem gives the source, progress, and cure. Telemachus,\nhowever, rises out of the mass of young men, the future hero who is to\nassert the law of the Gods. In such manner we are to reach down to the\nfact that the spirit of the Odyssey is ethical in the deepest sense,\nand reveals unto men the divine order of the world.\n\n\nII.\n\nWe now pass to the second part of the book, which shows Telemachus\naccomplishing with the aid of the deity what human institutions failed\nto do. If the Assembly will not help him in the great cause, the Gods\nwill, and now he makes his appeal to them.\n\nThe Ithacans had refused a ship in order that he might go and learn\nsomething about his father; that is, they will not permit his\neducation, which is at present the first object.\n\nHe goes down to the seacoast, where he will be alone, communing with\nthe Goddess and with himself, and there he prays to Pallas, washing his\nhands in the grey surf--which is, we may well think, a symbolic act of\npurification. Is it a wonder that Pallas, taking the human shape of\nMentor, comes and speaks to him? She must, if she be at all; he is\nready, and she has to appear. Her first words are but the echo of his\nconduct all through the preceding scene with the Assembly: \"Telemachus\nhenceforth thou shalt be wanting neither in valor nor in wisdom.\" She\nrouses him by the fame and deeds of his father, because he is already\naroused. Still she is a very necessary part; she is the divine element\nin the world speaking to Telemachus and helping him; she shows that his\nthought is not merely subjective, but is now one with hers, with\nobjective wisdom, and will rule the fact. He ascends into the realm of\ntrue vision, and from thence organizes his purpose. It is true that the\npoet represents Pallas as ordering the means for the voyage, as at\nfirst she ordered the work of the whole poem. Yet this is also done by\nTelemachus who has risen to participation in that glance which beholds\nthe truth and controls the world.\n\nOften will the foregoing statement be repeated; every divine appearance\nin Homer, of any import, is but a repetition of the one fact, which\nmust always be re-thought by the reader. That which Telemachus says is\nno longer his mere wish or opinion, but it is the reality, the valid\nthing outside of him, hence it is voiced by the Goddess, and must take\nplace. Thus the poet often compels his reader to rise with him into the\nsphere of the divine energy, where thinking and willing are one, and\nman's insight is just the word of the God.\n\nThe remaining circumstances of the Book group themselves around the two\ncenters--Telemachus and Pallas--as the Goddess orders them in advance:\n\"Go thou home and get the stores ready, while I shall engage a ship and\ncrew among the Ithacans.\"\n\n1. Telemachus goes among the Suitors, evidently to avoid suspicion,\nwhich his absence might provoke. They taunt and deride him, whereof\nthree samples are again given. He goes his way, conscious of his divine\nmission, not failing however to tell them: \"I shall surely make the\nvoyage, not in vain it will be.\" He obtains food and wine from the aged\nstewardess Eurycleia, who seeks to dissuade him. Then too his mother\nmust not know of his plan, she would keep him still a boy in the house,\nwhereas he has become a man.\n\n2. Pallas in the semblance of Telemachus goes through the town to\nsecure the ship and crew. Then she pours over the Suitors a gentle\nsleep after their revel; she takes away their wisdom, yet it is their\nown deed, which just now has a divine importance. Finally she brings\nall to the ship, seizes the helm and sends the favoring breeze. Or, as\nwe understand the poet, intelligence brings about these things under\nmany guises; even nature, the breeze, it takes advantage of for its own\npurpose.\n\nThus Pallas has the controlling hand in this second part of the Book,\nshe is above man and nature. We can say that the controlling spirit is\nalso Telemachus, who manifests Reason, controlling and directing the\nworld. Note the various forms which she assumes, as Mentor, as\nTelemachus; then again she works purely through mind, in the natural\nway, as for example, when Telemachus goes home and obtains his food and\nwine for the voyage. The poet thus plays with her shape; still she is\nessentially the divine intelligence which seizes upon men and\ncircumstances, and fits them into the order universal, and makes them\ncontribute to the great purpose of the poem. Still the Goddess does not\ndestroy man's freedom, but supplements it, lifting it out of the domain\nof caprice. Telemachus willingly wills the will of Pallas.\n\nAlready it has been remarked that the Goddess is made to command\nnature--the breeze, the sleep of the Suitors. It is the method of fable\nthus to portray intelligence, whose function is to take control of\nnature and make her subserve its purpose. The breeze blows and drives\nthe ship; it is the divine instrument for bringing Telemachus to Pylos,\na part of the world-order, especially upon the present occasion. The\nborn poet still talks that way, he is naturally a fabulist and cannot\nhelp himself. In his speech, the hunter does not chase the deer, but\nbrings it before his gun by a magic power; the mystic fisher calls the\nfishes; the enchanted bullet finds its own game and needs only to be\nshot off; the tanner even lays a spell upon the water in his vat and\nmakes it run up hill through a tube bent in a charm. But back of all\nthis enchantment intelligence is working and assumes her mythical,\nsupernatural garb when the poet images her control of nature.\n\nThus in general the Mythus shadows forth objective mind, not\nsubjective; it springs from the imaginative Reason, and not from a\ncultivated Reflection. In our time the demand is to have these\nobjective forms translated into subjective thoughts; then we can\nunderstand them better. But the Homeric man shows the opposite\ntendency: he had to translate his internal thoughts into the external\nshapes of the Mythus before he could grasp fully his own mind. His\nconception of the world was mythical; this form he understood and not\nthat of abstract reflection. We may well exclaim: Happy Homeric man, to\nwhom the world was ever present, not himself. Yet both sides belong to\nthe full-grown soul, the mythical and the reflective; from Homer the\none-sided modern mind can recover a part of its spiritual inheritance,\nwhich is in danger of being lost.\n\nIt is therefore, a significant fact that the education of the present\ntime is seeking to restore the Mythus to its true place in the\ndevelopment of human spirit. The Imagination is recognized to have its\nright, and unless it be taken care of in the right way, it will turn a\nFury, and wreak treble vengeance upon the age which makes it an\noutcast. Homer is undoubtedly the greatest of all mythologists, he\nseizes the pure mythical essence of the human mind and gives to it form\nand beauty. Hence from this point of view, specially, we shall study\nhim.\n\nIn the present Book the fact is brought out strongly that little or\nnothing is to be expected from the Ithacan people toward rectifying the\ngreat wrong done to the House of Ulysses. In part they are the\nwrong-doers themselves, in part they are cowed into inactivity by the\nwrong-doers. Corruption has eaten into the spirit of the people; the\nresult is, the great duty of deliverance is thrown back upon an\nindividual. One man is to take the place of all, or a few men the place\nof the many, for the work must be done. The mightiness of the\nindividual in the time of a great crisis is thus set forth in vivid\nreality; the one man with the Gods on his side is the majority. With\ntruest instinct does the old poet show the Goddess Pallas directing\nTelemachus, who participates in the Divine and is carrying out its\ndecree. This communion between man and deity is no mere mythologic\nsport, but the sincerest faith; verily it is the solidest fact in the\ngovernment of the world, and the bard is its voice to all ages.\n\nThis Second Book has its import for the whole poem. It is now manifest\nthat Ulysses, when he returns, is not to expect a grand popular\nreception; he must bring himself back to his own by his skill and\nprowess alone. The people will not help him slay the wrong-doers;\nrather the contrary will happen. Again the individual must work out the\nsalvation of himself as well as of his family and his country.\nTelemachus has shown himself the worthy son of the heroic father; the\npresent Book connects him intimately with the return of Ulysses, and\nbinds the entire Odyssey into unity; especially does this Book look to\nand prepare for the last twelve Books, which bring father and son\ntogether in one great act of deliverance.\n\nIf in the previous Book we beheld the depravity of the Suitors, we now\nwitness the imbecility of the People. Still the spark of hope flashes\nout brightly in this Ithacan night; something is at work to punish the\nguilty and to redeem the land.\n\n\n\n\n_BOOK THIRD._\n\n\nIn narrative, the present Book connects directly with the preceding\nBook. Pallas is still with Telemachus, they continue the voyage\ntogether till they reach Pylos, the home of Nestor. They have left\nIthaca, and come into another realm; this change of place, as is often\nthe case in Homer, carries with it a change of inner condition; the\nvoyage is not simply geographical but also spiritual; indeed it must be\nso, if the young man is to derive from it any experience.\n\nGreat and striking is the difference between Ithaca and Pylos. The\nlatter is the abode of religion primarily, the new-comers find the\nPylians engaged in an act of worship, in which the whole people\nparticipate, \"nine rows of seats and five hundred men in each row.\"\n\nToo large a number, cry some commentators, but they have not looked\ninto the real meaning of such a multitude. Here is sacrifice,\nreverence, belief in the Gods; while among the Ithacans is neglect of\nworship, religious paralysis, and downright blasphemy on the part of\nthe Suitors. Furthermore, in one country order reigns, in the other is\nanarchy. Such is the contrast between the Second and Third Books, the\ncontrast between Ithaca and Pylos. We can well think that this contrast\nwas intended by the poet, and thus we may catch a glimpse of his\nartistic procedure.\n\nThe center of the picture is Nestor, a very old man, who, accordingly,\ngives soul to the Book. He is so near the world of the Gods in the\npresent life, that he seems already to dwell with them; age brings this\nserene piety.\n\nNo accident is it that this Book of Nestor begins and ends with a\nfestival of sacrifice and prayer; that is the true setting of his\ncharacter. What he says to the visitors will take color and meaning\nfrom his fundamental trait; we may expect in his words a full\nrecognition of divinity in the events of the world.\n\nBut he has been a stout fighter in his time, he was in the Trojan War,\nthough old already at that period. He will give the lesson of his life,\nnot during that war, but afterwards. He was one of the heroes of the\nIliad, which poem the Odyssey not only does not repeat, but goes out of\nits way to avoid any repetition thereof. Moreover he was one of those\nwho returned home successfully, can he tell how it was done? This is\nthe question of special interest to Telemachus, as his father, after\nten years, has not yet reached home.\n\nHerewith the theme of the Book is suggested: the Return. Physically\nthis was a return from the Trojan War, which is the pre-supposition of\nthe whole Odyssey; all the heroes who have not perished, have to get\nback to Hellas in some way. These ways are very diverse, according to\nthe character of the persons and the circumstances. Thus we touch the\nsecond grand Homeric subject, and, indeed, the second grand fact of the\nGreek consciousness, which lies imbedded in the Return (_Nostos_). A\nshort survey of this subject must here be given. We have in the present\nBook several phases of the Return; Nestor, Menelaus, Ulysses are all\nReturners, to use a necessary word for the thought; each man solves the\nproblem in his own manner.\n\nNow what is this problem? Let us see. The expedition to Troy involved a\nlong separation from home and country on the part of every man who went\nwith it; still this separation had to be made for the sake of Helen,\nthat she, the wife and queen, return to home and country, from which\nshe had been taken. Her Return, indeed, is the essence of all their\nReturns. We see that through the war they were severed from Family and\nState, were compelled to give up for the time being their whole\ninstitutional life. This long absence deepens into alienation, into a\nspiritual scission, from mere habit in the first place; then, in the\nsecond place, they are seeking to destroy a home and a country; though\nit be that of the enemy, and the act, even if necessary, brings its\npenalty. It begets a spirit of violence, a disregard of human life, a\ndestruction of institutional order. Such is the training of the Greeks\nbefore Troy. The wanton attack of Ulysses and his companions upon the\ncity of the Ciconians (Book Ninth) is an indication of the spirit\nengendered in this long period of violence, among the best and wisest\nGreeks.\n\nStill, in spite of the grand estrangement, they have the aspiration for\nreturn, and for healing the breach which had sunk so deep into their\nsouls. Did they not undergo all this severing of the dearest ties for\nthe sake of Helen, for the integrity of the family, and of their civil\nlife also? What he has done for Helen, every Greek must be ready to do\nfor himself, when the war is over; he must long for the restoration of\nthe broken relations; he cannot remain in Asia and continue a true\nGreek. Such is his conflict; in maintaining Family and State, he has\nbeen forced to sacrifice Family and State. Then when he has\naccomplished the deed of sacrifice, he must restore himself to what he\nhas immolated. A hard task, a deeply contradictory process, whose end\nis, however, harmony; many will not be able to reach the latter stage,\nbut will perish by the way. The Return is this great process of\nrestoration after the estrangement.\n\nMany are the Returners, successful and unsuccessful in many different\nways. But they all are resumed in the one long desperate Return of\nUlysses, the wise and much-enduring man. In space as well as in time\nhis Return is the longest; in spirit it is the deepest and severest by\nall odds. The present poem, therefore, is a kind of resumption and\nsummary of the entire series of Returns (_Nostoi_). In the old Greek\nepical ages, the subject gave rise to many poems, which are, however,\nat bottom but one, and this we still possess, while the others are\nlost. Spirit takes care of its own verily.\n\nThe true Returner, accordingly, gets back to the institutions from\nwhich he once separated; he knows them now, previously he only felt\nthem. His institutional world must become thus a conscious possession;\nhe has gone through the alienation, and has been restored; his\nrestoration has been reached through denial, through skepticism, we may\nsay, using the modern term. The old unconscious period before the\nTrojan war is gone forever; that was the Paradise from which the Greek\nAdam has been expelled. But the new man after the restoration is the\nimage of the complete self-conscious being, who has taken the negative\nperiod into himself and digested it. Fortunate person! he cannot now be\nmade the subject of a poem, for he has no conflict.\n\nBut the young man beginning life, the son Telemachus, is to obtain the\nsame kind of knowledge, not through experience but through inquiry.\nOral tradition is to give him the treasures of wisdom without the\nbitter personal trial. It is for this reason that Pallas sends him to\nfind out what his father did, and to make the experience of the parent\nhis own by education; it is, indeed, the true education--to master the\naccumulated knowledge and wisdom of the race up to date. So we are now\nto have the school period of the son, who is thereby not merely the\nphysical son (which, he remarks, is always a matter of doubt), but the\nspiritual son of his father, whereof there can be no doubt.\n\nThe Odyssey proper, toward which we may now cast a glance, contains the\nwanderings of Ulysses, and is the work of the grown man who has to meet\nthe world face to face and conquer it; thus he obtains the experience\nof life. The two parts are always to be placed together--the education\nof the young man and the experience of the mature man; they constitute\na complete history of a human soul. Both are, indeed one--bud and\nflower; at bottom, too, both mean the same thing--the elevation of the\nindividual into an ethical life in which he is in harmony with himself\nand with the divine order. True learning and true experience reach this\nend, which may be rightfully called wisdom.\n\nSo Telemachus the youth is to listen to the great and impressive fact\nof his time, containing the deep spiritual problem which is designated\nas the Return. Nestor is the first and simplest of these Returners; he\nis an old man, he has prudence, he is without passion; moreover he has\nnot the spirit of inquiry or the searching into the Beyond; he accepts\nthe transmitted religion and opinions without question, through the\nconservatism of age as well as of character. It is clear that the\nspiritual scission of the time could not enter deep into his nature;\nhis long absence from home and country produced no alienation; he went\nhome direct after the fall of Troy, the winds and the waters were\nfavorable, no tempest, no upheaval, no signs of divine anger. But he\nforesaw the wrath of the Gods and fled across the wave in all speed,\nthe wrestle with the deity lay not in him.\n\nIt is worth our while to make a little summary of these Returners in\nclasses, since in this way the thought of the present Book as well as\nits place in the entire Odyssey can be seen best. First are those who\nnever succeeded in returning, but perished in the process of it; of\nthis class the great example is the leader himself, Agamemnon, who was\nslain by his own wife and her paramour. Second are those who succeeded\nin returning; of this class there are three well-marked divisions,\nwhich are to be sharply designated in the mind of the reader.\n\n(1). The immediate Returners, those who went straight home, without\ninternal scission or external trouble; unimportant they are in this\npeaceful aspect though they were formerly heroes in the war. Four such\nare passingly mentioned by Nestor in his talk: Diomed, Neoptolemus the\nson of Achilles, Philoctetes, and Idomeneus. Nestor himself is the most\nprominent and the typical one of this set who are the Returners through\nHellas.\n\n(2). The second one of those who have succeeded in getting home is\nMenelaus, whose sweep is far beyond that of Nestor and the immediate\nGreek world, taking in Egypt and the East. He was separated from\nNestor, having delayed to bury his steersman; then a storm struck him,\nbore him to Crete and beyond, the wind and wave carried him to the land\nof the Nile. He is the Returner through the Orient.\n\n(3). Finally is Ulysses, not yet returned, but whose time has nearly\narrived. In comparison with the others he is the Returner through the\nOccident. But his Return gives name to the poem, of which it is the\ngreater portion.\n\nStill the universal poem is to embrace all these phases of the Return,\nand the son, through education, is to know them all, not by experience\nbut by information. Thus his training is to reach beyond what the life\nof his father can give him; it must be universal, and in this way it\nbecomes a true discipline. We must note too, that this poem reaches\nbeyond the Return of Ulysses, beyond what its title suggests, and\nembraces all the Returns, Hellenic, Oriental, Occidental, as well as\nthe grand failure to return.\n\nSuch are some of the thoughts which gleam out the present Book and\nilluminate the whole Odyssey. We can now consider structure of the\nBook, which falls into two distinct parts, determined by the Goddess.\nWhen she makes ready to quit Telemachus, we enter the second portion of\nthe Book, and Telemachus continues his journey without direct divine\nsupervision. As the previous Book was marked by the coming of the\nGoddess, the present Book is marked by her going. The intercourse of\nthe youth with Nestor is the extent of her immediate guardianship;\nafter such an experience, he must learn to make the rest of the journey\nthrough his own resources. Even the deity teaches that there must not\nbe too much reliance upon the deity. The first portion of the Book\nextends to line 328, where Nestor ends his story of the Returns and\nsuggests the journey to Menelaus for another phase thereof: \"the sun\nset and darkness came on.\" The second portion embraces the rest of the\nBook. Again we must note that the fundamental Homeric division into the\nUpper and Lower Worlds is what divides the Book, thus giving to the\nsame its organic principle.\n\n\nI.\n\nThe religious setting of Nestor's world has been noticed already. Into\nit Telemachus comes, out of a realm of violence; it must indicate some\ncure for the ills of Ithaca. But he is now to show himself a man.\nPallas orders him to put aside his youthful modesty, and boldly make\nthe inquiry concerning his father. And here the Goddess utters a remark\nwhich the student may well ponder: \"Some things thou wilt think of in\nthine own mind, but a God will suggest others.\" Again the Homeric\ndualism--the human and the divine--and also their harmony; the two\nelements must come together in every high thought or action. The double\nrelation of the individual--to himself and to the God--is necessary for\nall worthy speech; his own activity and that of the deity run together\nin true discourse as well as in true action. So the whole poem is made\nup of man's self-determined energy and the interference of the Gods;\nyet both are to be seen as ultimately one in the deed.\n\nThe new-comers are asked to pray, and we hear the famous utterance,\nwhich is characteristic of Nestor's world, \"All men have need of the\nGods.\" This is said by one of his sons. Pallas makes the prayer, a\nhappy one, which brings forth a feeling of harmony between the\nstrangers and all the People. The sympathy is complete, and Telemachus\ncan proceed to ask concerning his father, after he has told who he\nhimself is, and whence he has come. In response, Nestor begins to tell\nthe fateful story of the Returns after the fall of Troy. In his\nnarrative we behold the starting-point of the calamities, the\ndifference between Agamemnon and Menelaus, followed by a series of\nseparations in succession. \"Zeus planned for them a sad Return,\" which,\nhowever, was their own fault, \"for all were neither wise nor just.\" It\nis clear that the Greek unity is utterly broken, a spiritual disruption\nsets in after the capture of the city. It is, indeed, the new problem,\nthis Return to peace and institutional order after ten years' training\nto violence. Such is the penalty of all war, however just and\nnecessary; after it is over, the fighting cannot stop at once, and so\nthe victors divide into two camps and continue the fight. Nestor gives\nthe picture of these repeated divisions; once, twice, thrice the breach\noccurs; first he separates from Agamemnon, the second time from\nUlysses, the third time from Menelaus. He will go directly home, and\nthus he has to leave the others behind; the scission is not in him as\nin them; he can be restored, in fact he restores himself. He has the\ninstinctive pre-Trojan character still, being an old man; but Ulysses\nhas lost that, and so separates from Nestor, though never before had\nthey differed \"in the Council of the Chiefs or in the Assembly of the\nPeople.\" But Ulysses has to return by a far different road, and now\neach of the two wise men takes his own way, though both have to return.\n\nAged Nestor manifestly does not belong to the new epoch, he seems to\nhave no sense of the deep spiritual struggle involved. He instinctively\nwent home, shunning the conflict; the others could not. In the Iliad\nthe relation between the two wise men, Nestor and Ulysses, is subtly\nyet clearly drawn; the one--the younger man--has creative intelligence,\nthe other--the older man--has appreciative intelligence. In the\nOdyssey, the relation is plainly evolved out of that described in the\nIliad; the one is the boundless striver, the other rests in the\nestablished order of things.\n\nNestor, therefore, cannot tell much about Ulysses, who lies quite out\nof his horizon, at least in the Odyssey. He can only give hope that the\nman of wisdom will yet return. This Telemachus doubts, dropping into\none of his low human moods, even in the presence of Pallas, who rebukes\nhim sharply. It is, indeed, the great lesson; he must have faith in the\nreality of the Gods, this is the basis of all his future progress, the\nchief attainment of wisdom. The young man must not fall away into\ndenial, he must be taught that there is a divine order in the world.\nOld Homer, too, had his notions about religion in education, and the\nGoddess herself is here introduced giving a lesson.\n\nNestor, though unable himself to give much information about the\nReturn, can point to the second grand Returner, Menelaus, who has\nlately come from a distant land, and may have something to say. In fact\nMenelaus was the last to separate from Nestor, Ulysses had separated\nlong before.\n\nOne other story Nestor tells with great sympathy, that of Agamemnon,\nwho represents a still different form of the Return. The great leader\nof the Greeks can master the Trojan difficulty, can even get back to\nhome and country, but these are ultimately lost to him by his faithless\nspouse. Still, after the father's death, the son Orestes restores\nFamily and State. Therein Telemachus sees an image of himself, the son,\nwho is to slay his mother's suitors; he sees, too, the possible fate of\nhis father. Ulysses has essentially the same problem as Agamemnon,\nthough he has not the faithless wife in addition; Telemachus beholds\nhis duty in the deed of Orestes, according to Greek consciousness. We\nshall see hereafter how Ulysses takes due precaution not to be slain in\nhis own land, as Agamemnon was. In disguise he will go to his own\npalace and carefully note the situation in advance, and then strike the\nblow of deliverance.\n\nSeveral times Homer repeats in the Odyssey the tragic story of\nAgamemnon, the great Leader of the Greeks at Troy. An awe-inspiring\ntale of destiny; out of it AEschylus will develop his great tragedy, the\nOresteia. Indeed the epos develops into tragedy with the full mythical\nunfolding of this story. AEschylus will deepen the motives into internal\ncollisions; he will show the right and the wrong in Agamemnon, and even\nin Clytemnestra. Orestes, however beneficent his deed in avenging his\nfather, will not escape the counterstroke; AEschylus will send after him\nthe Furies for the guilt of having murdered his mother. Thus the double\nnature of the deed, its reward and its penalty, unfolds out of Homer\ninto AEschylus, and creates the Greek drama as we know it at present.\n\nNestor has now told what lay in the immediate circle of his experience:\nthe Return direct through Hellas. Again he mentions the last\nseparation; it was that of himself from Menelaus, when the latter was\nswept beyond the limit of Hellas into Egypt, from which he has now\nreturned. What next? Evidently the young man must be sent to him at\nSparta in order to share in this larger circle of experience, extending\nto the Orient. So Greece points to the East in many ways; Nestor, the\npurely Hellenic soul, knows of that wider knowledge, though it be not\nhis, and he knows that it should be possessed.\n\nIn this Book as elsewhere in the Odyssey the grand background is the\nTrojan war. The incidents of the Iliad are hardly alluded to, but are\ncertainly taken for granted; the Post-Iliad is the field of interest,\nfor in it the Returns take place. Thus the two great poems of Homer\njoin together and show themselves as complements of each other.\n\n\nII.\n\nNow comes the separation which marks the second portion of the Book.\nPallas, in the guise of Mentor, coincides with Nestor in advising\nTelemachus to pay a visit to Menelaus, and then she departs, \"sailing\noff like a sea-eagle,\" whereat great astonishment from all present.\nThat is, she reveals herself; all recognize the Goddess, and probably\nthat is the reason why she can no longer stay. She has become internal.\nTelemachus is now conscious, as she disappears, and he has his own\nwisdom; he has seen Pallas, and so he must go without her to Sparta.\nHardly does he need her longer, being started upon the path of wisdom\nto know wisdom. At the court of Nestor, with its deeply religious\natmosphere, she can appear; but she declines to go with him in person\nto Menelaus, though she advises the journey. All of which, to the\nsympathetic reader, has its significance. Still Pallas has by no means\nvanished out of the career of Telemachus; she at present, however,\nleaves him to himself, as she often does.\n\nNestor, too, responds to the marvelous incident in true accord with his\ncharacter; he invokes her with prayer and institutes a grand sacrifice,\nwhich is now described in a good deal of detail. Just as the Book opens\nwith a sacrifice to a deity, so it closes with one--the two form the\nsetting of the whole description. Thus the recognition of the Gods is\neverywhere set forth in Nestor's world; he is the man of faith, of\nprimitive, immediate faith, which has never felt the doubt.\n\nIt is well that Telemachus meets with such a man at the start, and gets\na breath out of such an atmosphere. He has seen the ills of Ithaca from\nhis boyhood; he may well question at times the superintendence of the\nGods. His own experience of life would lead him to doubt the existence\nof a Divine Order. Even here in Pylos he challenges the supremacy of\nthe Olympians. When Nestor intimates that his father will yet return\nand punish the Suitors, with the help of Pallas, or that he himself may\npossibly do so with the aid of the same Goddess, Telemachus replies:\n\"Never will that come to pass, I think, though I hope for it; no, not\neven if the Gods should so will.\" Assuredly a young skeptic he shows\nhimself, probably in a fit of despondency; sharp is the reproof of the\nGoddess: \"O Telemachus, what kind of talk is that? Easily can a God, if\nhe wills it, save a man even at a distance.\" Thus she, a Goddess,\nasserts the supremacy of the Gods, even though they cannot avert death.\nBut the youth persists at present: \"let us talk no more of this; my\nfather never will return.\" But when Nestor has told the story of\nAEgisthus punished by the son Orestes, the impression is strong that\nthere is a divine justice which overtakes the guilty man at last; such\nis the old man's lesson to the juvenile doubter. The lesson is imparted\nin the form of a tale, but it has its meaning, and Telemachus cannot\nhelp putting himself into the place of Orestes.\n\nSuch is, then, the training which the young man, shaken by misfortune,\nobtains at the court of Nestor; the training to a belief in the rule of\nthe Gods in a Divine Order of the World--which is the fundamental\nbelief of the present poem. It is no wonder that Telemachus sees Pallas\nat last, sees that she has been with him, recognizing her presence. To\nbe sure, she now disappears as a personal presence, having been found\nout; still she sends Telemachus on his journey to Sparta. Thus the\nThird Book has a distinctive character of its own, differing decidedly\nfrom the Book which goes before and from that which follows. Here is a\nreligious world, idyllic, paradisaical in its immediate relation to the\nGods, and in the primitive innocence of its people, who seem to be\nwithout a jar or inner scission. No doubt or dissonance has yet entered\napparently; Pylos stands between Ithaca, the land of absolute discord,\nand Sparta, the land recently restored out of discord. The Book hears a\nrelation to the whole Odyssey in its special theme, which is the\nReturn, of which it represents in the ruler Nestor a particular phase.\nIt prepares the way for the grand Return, which is that of Ulysses; it\nis a link connecting the whole poem into unity. Moreover it shadows\nforth one of the movements of Greek spirit, which seized upon this idea\nof a Return from Troy to express the soul's restoration from its\nwarring, alienated, dualistic condition. It is well known that there\nwere many poems on this subject; each hero along with his town or land\nhad his Return, which became embodied in legend and song. All Hellas,\nin a certain stage of its spiritual movement, had a tendency to break\nout into the lay of the Return. One of the so-called cyclic poets,\nHagias of Troezen, collected a number of these lays into one poem and\ncalled it the _Nostoi_ or Returns, evidently an outgrowth of this Third\nBook in particular and of the Odyssey in general.\n\nThus Telemachus has witnessed and heard a good deal during his stay\nwith Nestor. He has seen a religious world, a realm of faith in the\nGods, which certainly has left its strong impression; he has been\ninspired by the example of his father, whose worth has been set forth,\nand whose place in the great Trojan movement has been indicated, by the\naged Hero. Still further, Telemachus has been brought to share in the\nidea of the Return, the present underlying idea of the whole Greek\nconsciousness; thus he must be led to believe in it and to work for it,\napplying it to his own case and his own land. Largely, from a negative,\ndespairing state of mind due to his Ithacan environment, he has been\nled into glimpses of a positive believing one; this has sprung from his\nschooling with Nestor, who may be called his first schoolmaster, from\nwhom he is now to pass to his second.\n\nThe reader must judge whether the preceding view be too introspective\nfor Homer, who is usually declared to be the unconscious poet, quite\nunaware of his purpose or process. No one can carefully read the Third\nBook without feeling its religious purport; an atmosphere it has\npeculiar to itself in relation to the other Books of the Telemachiad.\nTo be sure, we can read it as an adventure, a mere diverting story,\nwithout further meaning than the attempt to entertain vacant heads\nseeking to kill time. But really it is the record of the spirit's\nexperience, and must so be interpreted. Again the question comes up:\nwhat is it to know Homer? His geography, his incidents, his grammar,\nhis entire outer world have their right and must be studied--but let us\nproceed to the next Book.\n\n\n\n\n_BOOK FOURTH._\n\n\nThe transition from Book Third to Book Fourth involves a very\nsignificant change of environment. In Sparta, to which Telemachus now\npasses, there is occurring no public sacrifice to the Gods, but a\ndomestic festal occasion gives the tone; he moves out of a religious\ninto a secular atmosphere. Pylos allows the simple state of faith, the\nworld unfallen; Sparta has in it the deep scission of the soul, which,\nhowever, is at present healed after many wanderings and struggles.\nNestor, as we have seen, is quite without inner conflict; Menelaus and\nHelen represent a long, long training in the school of error,\ntribulation, misfortune. Pylos is the peace before the fall, Sparta is\nthe peace after the fall, yet with many reminiscences of the latter.\nThis Fourth Book reaches out beyond Greece, beyond the Trojan War, it\ngoes beyond the Hellenic limit in Space and Time, it sweeps backward\ninto Egypt and the Orient. It is a marvelous Book, calling for our best\nstudy and reflection; certainly it is one of the greatest compositions\nof the human mind. Its fundamental note is restoration after the grand\nlapse; witness Helen, and Menelaus too; the Third Book has no\nrestoration, because it has no alienation.\n\nThe account of the various Returns from Troy is continued. In the\npreceding Book we had those given by Nestor, specially his own, which\nwas without conflict. He is the man of age and wisdom, he does not fall\nout with the Gods, he does not try to transcend the prescribed limits,\nhe is old and conservative. The Returns which he speaks of beside his\nown, are confined to the Greek world; that was the range of his vision.\n\nBut now in the Fourth Book we are to hear of the second great Return,\nin which two Greeks participate, Menelaus and Helen. This Return is by\nway of the East, through Egypt, which is the land of ancient wisdom for\nthe Greek man, and for us too. It is the land of the past to the\nHellenic mind, whither the person who aspires to know the antecedents\nof himself and his culture must travel; or, he must learn of those who\nhave been there, if he cannot go himself. Egyptian lore, which had a\ngreat influence upon the early Greek world in its formative period,\nmust have some reflection in this primitive Greek book of education. So\nTelemachus, to complete his discipline, must reach beyond Greece into\nthe Orient, he must get far back of Troy, which was merely an\norientalizing Hellenic city; he must learn of Egypt. Thus he transcends\nthe national limit, and begins to obtain an universal culture.\n\nBut the moment we go beyond the Greek world with its clear plastic\noutlines, the artistic form changes; the Hellenic sunshine is tinged\nwith Oriental shadows; we pass from the unveiled Zeus to the veiled\nIsis. Homer himself gets colored with touches of Oriental mystery. The\nEgyptian part of this Fourth Book, therefore, will show a\ntransformation of style as well as of thought, and changeful Proteus\nwill become a true image of the Poet. The work will manifest a symbolic\ntendency; it will have an aroma of the wisdom of the East, taught in\nforms of the parable, the apologue, with hints of allegory. The world,\nthrown outside of that transparent Greek life, becomes a Fairy Tale,\nwhich is here taken up and incorporated into a great poem. We shall be\ncompelled to look thoroughly into these strange shapes of Egypt, and,\nif possible, reach down to their meaning, for meaning they must have,\nor be meaningless. We shall find that this Fourth Book stands in the\nfront rank of Homeric poetry for depth and suggestiveness, if not for\nepical lucidity.\n\nWhat did not Telemachus see and hear at Sparta? That was, indeed, an\neducation. He saw the two great returned ones, the woman and the man.\nHelen he saw, who had passed through her long alienation and was now\nrestored to home and country after the Trojan discipline. In her, the\nmost beautiful woman, the human cycle was complete--the fall, the\nrepentance, the restoration. Then the eager youth saw Menelaus, and\nheard his story of the Return; he is the man who seeks the treasures of\nthe East, and brings them to Hellas in the Hellenic way. He finds them,\ntoo, after much suffering, never losing them again in the tempests of\nhis voyage, for does he not spread them out before us in his talk? Both\nthe man and the woman, after the greatest human trials, have reached\nserenity--an institutional and an intellectual harmony. The young man\nsees it and feels it and takes it away in his head and heart.\n\nThe present Book falls easily into two distinct portions. The first is\nthe visit of Telemachus to Sparta and what he experiences there. Sparta\nis at peace and in order; the youth to a degree beholds in it the ideal\nland to which he must help transform his own disordered country. The\nsecond portion of the Book goes back to Ithaca (line 625 of the Greek\ntext). Here we are suddenly plunged again into the wrongful deeds of\nthe suitors, done to the House of Ulysses. They are plotting the death\nof Telemachus, the bearing of whose new career has dawned upon them.\nIthaca is truly the realm of discord in contrast to the harmony of\nSparta and the House of Menelaus, which has also had sore trials. Hence\nSparta may be considered a prophecy of the redemption of Ithaca.\n\nFollowing out these structural suggestions, we designate the organism\nof the Book in this manner:--\n\nI. The visit of Telemachus at Sparta in which he beholds and converses\nwith two chief Returners from Troy, those who came back by way of the\nEast, Menelaus and Helen. This part embraces the greater portion of the\nBook and falls into three divisions.\n\n1. The arrival and recognition of the son of Ulysses by Menelaus and\nHelen who are in a mood of reminiscence, speaking of and in the Present\nwith many a glance back into the Past. The Oriental journey to Cyprus,\nPhoenicia, and specially Egypt, plays into their conversation, making\nthe whole a Domestic Tale of real life with an ideal background lying\nbeyond Hellas.\n\n2. When the son is duly recognized and received, the father Ulysses\ncomes in for reminiscence; with him the background shifts from the\nOrient to Troy, where he was the hero of so many deeds of cunning and\nvalor, and where both Menelaus and Helen were chief actors. The\nliterary form passes out of the Domestic Tale of the Present into the\nHeroic Tale of the Past, from sorrowful retrospection to bracing\ndescription of daring deeds. Helen and Menelaus, each in turn, tell\nstories of Ulysses at Troy to the son, who thus learns much about his\nfather. As already said, the background of this portion is the Trojan\nwar which was the grand Hellenic separation from the Orient. The Iliad,\nand specially the Post-Iliad are here presupposed by the Odyssey.\n\n3. The Return of Menelaus is now told to Telemachus, which Return\nreaches behind the Trojan war into the East and beyond the limits of\nthe real Hellas into Egypt. Thus the spatial and temporal bounds of\nGreece are transcended, the actual both in the Present and Past goes\nover into the purely ideal, and the literary form becomes a Marvelous\nTale--that of Proteus, which suggests not only Present and Past, but\nall Time.\n\nII. Such is the grand Return of Menelaus out of struggle and dualism\ninto peace and reconciliation with himself and the world, barring\ncertain painful memories. The poet next, in sharp contrast throws the\nreader back to Ithaca, the land of strife and wrong, in general of\nlimits for young Telemachus, who is reaching out for freedom through\nintelligence, and is getting a good deal thereof. Two phases:\n\n1. The Suitors' limits, which he has broken through; their wrath and\ntheir plan of murdering him in consequence.\n\n2. The mother's limits, which he has also broken through; her paroxysm\nin consequence, and final consolation.\n\n\nI.\n\nThe first portion of the Book, as above given, is by all means the\ngreatest in conception and in execution as well as the longest. As\nalready indicated there are three kinds of writing in it, yet fused\ntogether into unity, which makes it a most varied, yet profoundly\nsuggestive piece of Art. The simple idyllic, domestic strain of\nordinary real life we hear at the start in the reception and\nrecognition of Telemachus at Sparta; the scene lies in the sunshine of\na serene existence, yet after mighty tempests. Thence we pass into the\nheroic world of Troy out of Greece and the Present, and listen to an\nepical story of heroism told by Menelaus and Helen, of the Hero\nUlysses; finally we are brought to Egypt, and hear a prophecy\nconcerning the same Hero, who is now the subject of the Fairy Tale. In\nother words, in this portion of the Fourth Book we observe a change of\nscene to three localities--Greece, Troy, Egypt, which correspond to\nPresent, Past, and Future, and which attune the soul respectively to\nSorrow, Reminiscence, Prophecy. In accord with this variety of place\nand circumstance is the variety of literary form already noted: the\nordinary Descriptive Tale of the Present, the Heroic Story of the Past,\nand the Fairy Tale imaging what is distant in space and time.\n\n1. As Telemachus arrives, he notes the outer setting to this noble\npicture of Menelaus and Helen. There is the magnificent palace with\nmany costly ornaments of \"bronze, gold, silver, amber and ivory;\" it\nhas the ideal of Greek architecture, not yet realized doubtless, still\nit suggests \"the Hall of Olympian Zeus\" to the admiring Telemachus. The\nnew-comers happen upon a wedding-festival, which connects the place and\nthe occasion with the Trojan war and its Hero Achilles, whose son is\nnow to marry Helen's daughter, betrothed to him while at Troy. Moreover\nit is a time of joy, which brings all before us at first in a festal\nmood.\n\nNor must we pass by that astonishing utterance of Menelaus to his\nservant who proposed to turn away the guests: \"Thou prattlest silly\nthings like a child, verily have we come hither partaking of the\nhospitable fare of other men.\" Therefore we ought to give that which we\nhave received. One likes to note these touches of humanity in the old\nheathen Greek; he too knew and applied the Golden Rule. The wisdom of\nlife here peers forth in the much-traveled Menelaus; suffering has\ntaught him to consider others; sorrow he has experienced, but it has\nbrought its best reward--compassion. This sorrow at once breaks forth\nin response to the admiration of Telemachus for the outward splendor of\nhis palace and possessions.\n\nThe Spartan king takes a short retrospect of life as it has been\nallotted him; the sighs well out between his words as he tells his\nstory. Eight years he wandered after the taking of Troy; for he passed\nacross the sea, to Egypt, even to AEthiopia and Lybia, which he portrays\nas a wonderland of golden plenty. But while he was gone, \"gathering\nmuch wealth,\" his brother Agamemnon was slain; \"therefore, small joy I\nhave bearing rule over these possessions.\" But chiefly he laments the\nloss of one man, on account of whom \"sleep and food become hateful to\nme when I think upon him.\" That man is Ulysses, who has suffered more\nthan any other Greek. Thus a strong deep stream of sympathy breaks\nforth from the heart of Menelaus, and the son, hearing his father's\nname, holds up the purple mantle before his eyes, shedding the tear. A\nstrong unconscious bond of feeling at once unites both.\n\nHow can we fail to notice the clear indication of purpose in these\npassages! The Poet brings Menelaus, as the culmination of his story, to\nstrike the chord which stirs most profoundly the soul of Telemachus.\nThe son is there to inquire concerning his father; without revealing\nhimself he learns much about the character and significance of his\nparent. The same artistic forethought is shown, when, at this sad\nmoment, Helen enters, the primal source of all these calamities, in a\nglorious manifestation of her beauty. Telemachus sees or may see,\nembodied in her the very essence of Greek spirit, that which had to be\nrestored to Hellas from Asia, if Hellas was to exist. The Poet likens\nher to a Goddess, and places her in surroundings which are to set off\nher divine appearance. In her case, too, we notice the distant\nbackground: Egyptian presents she has, as well as Menelaus, \"a golden\ndistaff and a silver basket bound in gold.\" Mementos from far-off\nwonderland are woven into the speech and character of the famous pair.\n\nNow for a true female trait. Helen at once recognizes the young\nstranger as the son of Ulysses, wherein she stands in contrast to her\nhusband Menelaus, who, in spite of his thinking about his friend just\nat that moment, had failed to see before him the son of that friend.\nBut no sooner had the woman laid eyes upon Telemachus than she\npersonally identified him. When the wife had spoken the words of\nimmediate insight and instinct, the wise husband sees the truth and\ngives his reasons. When the fact has been told him, he can easily prove\nit.\n\nSupremely beautiful is this appearance of Helen in the Odyssey; she is\nthe completion of what we saw and knew of her in the Iliad. Now she is\nrestored to home and country, after her long alienation; still she has\nlurking moments of self-reproach on account of her former deeds. Though\nshe has repented and has been received back, she cannot forget, ought\nnot to forget the past altogether. The conduct of the husband is most\nnoble in these scenes; he has forgiven her fully, never upbraiding,\nnever even alluding to her fatal act, excepting in one passage\npossibly, in which there is a gentle palliation of her behavior: \"Thou\ncamest to the place, moved by some divinity who wished to give glory to\nthe Trojans.\" The husband will not blame her, she acted under the\nstimulus of a God. The fallen woman restored is the divinest of all\npictures; we wonder again at the far-reaching humanity of the old bard;\nto-day she would hardly be taken back and forgiven by the world as\ncompletely as she is in the pages of Homer. She is indeed a new Helen,\nstanding forth in the purest radiance within the shining palace of\nMenelaus. Long shall the world continue to gaze at her there.\n\nTelemachus is to see and to hear Helen; that is, indeed, one of his\nsupreme experiences. But it is not here a matter of superficial staring\nat a beautiful woman; all that Helen is, the total cycle of her\nspirit's history, is to enter his heart and become a vital portion of\nhis discipline. It is probable that the youth does not realize every\nthing that Helen means and is; still he beholds her, and that in itself\nis an education. Helen is not merely a figure of voluptuous beauty,\nwhich captivates the senses; she bears in her the experience of\ncomplete humanity; she has erred, she has transformed her error, she\nhas been restored to that ethical order which she had violated. All of\nwhich the young man is to see written in her face, and to feel in her\nwords and conduct, though he may not consciously formulate it in his\nthought. This is the true beauty of Helen, not simply the outer\nsensuous form, though she possesses that too. She could not be the\nideal of the Greek world, if she were merely an Oriental enchantress;\nindeed it is just the function of the Greeks to rescue her from such a\ncondition, which was that of Helen in Troy.\n\nAlready the heart of Menelaus is full at the thought of his friend\nUlysses, and he warms toward the latter's son now present. He again\nutters words of sympathetic sorrow. All are touched; all have lost some\ndear relative at Troy; it is a moment of overpowering emotion. The four\npeople weep in common; it is but an outburst; they rally from their\nsorrow, Menelaus commands: \"Let us cease from mourning and think of the\nfeast.\"\n\nIt is at this point that Helen again interposes. Her experience of life\nhas been the deepest, saddest, most complete of all, she has mastered\nher conflicts, inner and outer, and reached the haven of serenity; she\ncan point out the way of consolation. In fact it is her supreme\nfunction to show to others what she has gone through, and thereby save\nthem, in part at least, the arduous way. For is not the career of every\ntrue hero or heroine vicarious to a certain degree? Assuredly, if they\nmean any thing to the sons and daughters of men. Helen can bring the\nrelief, and does so in the present instance.\n\nShe fetches forth that famous drug, the grand antidote for grief and\npassion, and all life's ills, the true solacer in life's journey. It\nhad been given her by an Egyptian woman, Polydamna, whom she had met in\nher wanderings, and it had evidently helped to cure her lacerated soul.\nAgain Egypt lies in the background, as it does everywhere in this Book,\nthe veritable wonderland, from which many miraculous blessings are\nsent. Moreover it is the land of potent drugs, \"some beneficial and\nsome baneful;\" its physicians too, are celebrated as excelling all men.\nStill more curious is the fact that women possess the secret of\nmedicine as well as men, and Polydamna may be set down as the first\nfemale doctor--she who gave the wonderful drug to Helen. Surely there\nis nothing new under the sun.\n\nThis marvelous drug, often called Nepenthe from one of its attributes,\nhas naturally aroused much curiosity among the many-minded readers of\nHomer down the ages. Some have held that it was an herb, which they\nhave pointed out in the valley of the Nile. Others hold it to be opium\nliterally, though it does not here put to sleep or silence the company.\nOn the other hand allegory has tried its hand at the word. Certain\nancients including Plutarch found in it an emblem hinting the charm of\npleasing narrative. As Helen at once passes to story-telling about\nUlysses at Troy, changing from sad reminiscences of the dead to\nstirring deeds of living men, we may suppose that this has something to\ndo with her Nepenthe, which changes the mind from inward to outward,\nfrom emotion to action. The magic charm seems to work potently when she\nbegins to talk. Through her, the artist as well as the ideal, we make\nthe transition into the Heroic Tale of the olden time, of which she\ngives a specimen.\n\n2. Very naturally the Trojan scene is next taken, that greatest deed of\nthe Greek race, being that which really made it a new race, separating\nit from the Orient and giving it a new destiny. Helen now tells to the\ncompany myths, particularly the labors of Ulysses. She narrates how he\ncame to Troy in the disguise of a beggar; none knew him, \"but I alone\nrecognized him,\" as she had just recognized Telemachus. Thus she\ncelebrates the cunning and bravery of Ulysses; but she also introduces\na fragment of her own history: \"I longed to return home, and I lamented\nthe infatuation which Venus sent upon me.\" She wished to be restored to\nher husband who was \"in no respect lacking in mind or shape.\" We must\nnot forget that the husband was before her listening; she does not\nforget her skill. Also Telemachus was present and hears her confession\nof guilt and her repentance--important stages in her total life, which\nhe is to know, and to take unto himself.\n\nMenelaus has also his myth of Ulysses at Troy, which he now proceeds to\ntell. It brings before us the Wooden Horse, really the thought of\nUlysses, though wrought by Epeios, by which the hostile city was at\nlast captured. Here the Odyssey supplies a connecting link between\nitself and the Iliad, as the latter poem closes before the time of the\nWooden Horse. Ulysses is now seen to be the Hero again, he is the man\nwho suppresses emotion, especially domestic emotion in himself and\nothers for the great end of the war. It suggests also the difficulty of\nUlysses; he had so long suppressed his domestic instincts, and done\nwithout the life of the family, that he will have great trouble in\novercoming the alienation--whereof the Odyssey is the record. In this\nstory of Menelaus, Helen has her part too; she came to the Wooden\nHorse, \"imitating in voice the wives of all the Greek leaders,\" who\nwere deeply moved, yet restrained themselves except one, Anticlus,\n\"over whose mouth Ulysses clapped his powerful hands, and saved the\nGreeks.\" Truly a strong image of the suppression of feeling in himself\nand in others.\n\nBut why did Helen do thus? Was it a hostile act on her part? Menelaus\nhints that it was at least very dangerous to the Greeks, though he\ndelicately lays the blame of it on some God, \"who must have inspired\nthee.\" She was testing the Greeks whom she supposed to be inside the\nhorse. Will they answer the call of their wives? Do they still retain\ntheir affection for their families? Above all, does Menelaus love me\nstill? Such was her test, in which we witness another of her many\ngifts. At any rate, she is not yet free, she is still married in Troy,\nthough the hour of her release be near.\n\nWith these two stories, the note changes; the sad turn of the talk is\ntransformed into a quiet earnest joy, the sorrows of the present vanish\nin the glorious memories of the past. The moment Troy is introduced,\nthe narrative becomes an Heroic Tale, a sort of Iliad, with its feats\nof arms. Thus we hear the story of Ulysses while at Troy, giving two\ninstances of his craft and his daring. Next we are to hear of him after\nhis Trojan experience, this now theme will give the new poem, the\nOdyssey, which, however, is seen to interlink at many points with the\nIliad.\n\nBut this is sufficient, night has come on, Telemachus has heard and\nbeheld enough for one day. Helen disappears from the scene, she has\ncontributed her share, her own selfhood, to the experience of the young\nman. Telemachus has seen Helen, and thus attained one supreme purpose\nof Greek education. Never can that face, beautiful still, yet stamped\nwith all the vicissitudes of human destiny, pass out of his mind; never\ncan that life of hers with its grand transformation pass out of his\nsoul. The reader, too, has at this point to bid good-bye to Homer's\nHelen, the most lasting creation of a woman that has yet appeared upon\nour planet. A power she has, too, of continuous re-embodiment; every\npoet seeks to call her up afresh, that is, if he be a poet. It may be\nsaid that each age has some incarnation of Helen; the Greek myth for\ntwo thousand years, Medieval legend, even Teutonic folk-lore have\ncaught up her spirit and incorporated it in new forms. The last great\nsinger of the ages has in our own time, evoked her ghost once more in\nthe shining palace of Menelaus at Sparta. Farewell, Helen, for this\ntime, but we shall meet thee again; yesterday thou didst show thyself\nin a new book under a new garb, to-morrow thou art certain to appear in\nanother. Thine is the power to re-create thyself in the soul of man\nwith every epoch and in every country. Great is that discipline of\nTelemachus, which we still to-day have to seek: he has seen Helen.\n\n3. The preceding story was the Heroic Tale, which goes back to the\nPast, especially to Troy, as the grand deed done by the united Hellenic\nrace, whereof the Iliad is a sample. But now we enter a new field, and\na new sort of composition, which, in default of a better name, we shall\ncall the Fairy Tale. Helen is not now present, nor is her struggle the\ntheme; Menelaus, the man, is to recount his experience in his return to\nHellas.\n\nThe story is inspired by the desire of Telemachus to know about his\nfather. As that father is not present the question arises, Where is he?\nMenelaus will undertake to answer the question by a tale which shadows\nforth the Distant and the Future--a prophetic tale, which casts its\nglance through the veil of Time and Space.\n\nA mythical figure appears, Proteus, the Old Man of the Sea, who is to\nforetell to the inquiring mortal what may be needful for his safety.\nNot an Olympian God is Proteus, yet a supernatural shape standing\nbetween man and deity and mediating the two, the human and the divine.\nFor it is Proteus who sends Menelaus back to the Gods whom he has\nneglected and offended.\n\nThe Fairy Tale which we are now to consider, is not to be looked upon\nas an allegory; it is a story with incident, movement, character, all\nin their own right, and not for the sake of something else. But we must\nnot, on this account, imagine that it has no thought; in fact, the\nFairy Tale is just the way in which primitive peoples think. It has\nthought, often the profoundest thought, which darts through it, not\nsteadily, but fitfully in flashes at the important links, like electric\nsparks. This thought we are to catch and hold, and not rest satisfied\nwith the mere outer form of the story.\n\nPersons we can always find who are strongly prepossessed against seeing\nany meaning in the Fairy Tale, or in the Mythus. Modern usage of these\nliterary forms, doubtless, justifies such an opinion. Still we must\nremember that Homer was not playing, but thinking with his Fairy Tale;\nhe had no technical terms, and almost no abstract language for\nexpressing thought; the day of philosophic reflection had not yet\ndawned upon Greece. Homer has a great and deep thought to utter, but\nhis utterance is and must be mythical. His problem, too, he has, and it\nis spiritual; the Mythus is his statement, honest, earnest, final. No,\nhe was not playing at story-telling, though it must have given him\npleasure; nor was his object merely to delight somebody, though he\ncertainly has delighted many by his song. He was the true Poet,\nupholding his own worth and that of his vocation; he was loyal to the\nMuse whose word he must sing whether it find listeners or not. Homer\nbuilt his legendary structure to live in, not to play in; with all his\nsportiveness, he is a deeply earnest man; if his Zeus sometimes takes\non a comic mask, it is because Providence is a humorist. Homer, when he\nmythologizes, is thinking, thinking as profoundly as the philosopher,\nand both are seeking to utter to men the same fundamental thought. The\nreader is to think after the poet, if not in the immediate mythical\nform, then in the mediate, reflective way.\n\nThe present Tale seeks to give an answer to the two main questions of\nTelemachus: Where is my father now? And, Will he return home? To answer\nthe one question requires a knowledge of what is distant in Space; to\nanswer the other question requires a knowledge of what is distant in\nTime. Can we not see that herein is an attempt to rise out of that\ntwofold prison of the spirit, Space and Time, into what is true in all\nplaces and times? In other words, Menelaus unfolds in a mythical form,\nthe Universal to his young pupil, and we may now see in what manner he\ngives the lesson.\n\nHe leaps at once into the middle of his theme; he was in Egypt and\ndetained there by the Gods, \"though longing to return home.\" Such is\nthe great initial fact, he did not do his duty to the Gods. Without\ntheir aid or without their adequate recognition, he seeks to come home.\nThis indicates the spiritual difficulty; he is indifferent to or a\ndisbeliever in the Divine. The Gods are the upholders of the\nworld-order, they are the law and the spirit of the reality. Clearly\nMenelaus could not or did not fit himself into the providential system.\nNeglect of the Gods--that detains him, must detain him. The result is,\nhe and his companions are wasting away on an island, without any chance\nof return.\n\nThe question of the hour is, How shall I get out of the difficulty?\nOnly in one way: Acknowledge the Gods, put yourself into harmony with\ntheir order, then the outer world and the inner man will be one, and\nmust bring about the deed, which is the return. We are now to witness\nthe process whereby this reconciliation between man and the Gods takes\nplace--surely the supreme matter in life. It is told in the form of the\nFairy Tale or Marvelous Legend, which shifts and changes; we, however,\nmust cling to the essence else it will escape us, Proteus himself we\nmust hold fast, and not be misled by his many appearances.\n\nMenelaus begins to feel sorrow, which is a penitent condition\nantecedent to all help. Moreover he wanders alone, he has gone apart\nfrom his companions; behold, the Goddess steps out of the air and\nspeaks. She reproaches him with folly, and turns him to the deity who\ncan assist him. Who is this Goddess?\n\nIt is Eidothea, the Goddess of Appearance, yet the daughter of Proteus,\nthe old First One, to whom she directs Menelaus, as the only means of\nsalvation. Mark how she designates Proteus: \"he is the true, the\nimmortal; without error, without death; he knows the depths of all the\nsea\"--the great sea of Time and Space, which envelops the poor mortal.\nBut he must be snared and held--surely not an easy task it is to catch\nhim.\n\nThe etymology of the names of these two deities indicates their meaning\nand relation. The grand dualism of the world is clearly suggested:\nAppearance and Substance, the Transitory and the Eternal, that which\nseems and that which is. Menelaus had gone astray, he had neglected the\nGods, he had followed Appearance, Delusion, Negation; the result could\nonly be death. But even Appearance points to something beyond itself,\nsomething true and eternal. So Eidothea suggests Proteus, who is her\nparent; that is, she is the manifestation of his being. She is the\nmany, he is the one underneath and in the many; she is change, he is\nthe permanent in all change. He may well be designated as her father,\nwhose transformations she knows and declares. These transformations are\ncalled his tricks or stratagems, the shapes he puts on in the world of\nAppearance; they are indeed Eidothea herself along with her voice\ntelling what is higher than herself.\n\nWhen this one first principle is clearly revealed, then all is\nrevealed; the future becomes transparent, and the distant becomes near.\nBut you must hold fast to the one true Proteus; he will turn to\nfire--hold fast; he will become running water--hold fast; he will\nchange to tree, beast, reptile--hold fast. Then he will show himself in\nhis right shape, and will speak the fact. Hold fast; the One is under\nall, and is a God, who will lift the veil of Space and Time from the\nvisage of Truth. But unquestionably the man in his desperate struggle\nmust never forget the injunction. Hold fast to old Proteus.\n\nWe must note, too, that the poet has shown Menelaus as prepared to\nreceive this divine revelation; the Greek wanderer has been brought to\ncontrition by manifold sufferings. \"I surely must have sinned against\nthe Immortals,\" is his penitent outcry. Thus he is ready for the new\ntruth, and the voice of the Goddess speaks, when he is internally in\ncondition to hear it. The divine word is not forced upon him; he must\ndo his share even toward creating the same within himself. Now, along\nthe shore of the sea, \"he prays the Gods fervently,\" ere he goes to his\ntask. Egyptian Proteus he seeks to catch and to hold, for it is Proteus\nwho is to point out to him the way of reconciliation with Zeus and the\nOlympian Gods.\n\nStress is strongly laid by the poet upon the fact that Proteus is of\nEgypt. Evidently, in the mind of Homer, the thought of this Fourth Book\nconnects with the land of the Nile. What hint lies in that? The highest\nwisdom of Egypt, indeed, of the Orient, is just this grand distinction\nbetween Appearance and Substance, the Transitory and the Eternal, the\nMany and the One. What Egypt gave to Hellas is here suggested, nay,\nsaid directly. In fact, the first great step in wisdom, is still to\nmake the above distinction, which in many ways has been handed down to\nus from the East.\n\nBut the Greeks united the two sides--that which appears and that which\nis, or the world of sense, and the world of spirit--and thereby\nproduced art, the plastic forms of Gods and Men. Hellas brought forth\nto the sunlight Beauty, which Egypt never could. Even here Egyptian\nProteus leads Menelaus to the Greek Gods, and becomes himself a kind of\nantecedent Hellenic deity. Egypt means to Greek Menelaus two things:\nfirst, it is a land of error, of alienation, of darkness; secondly, it\nhas its light, its wisdom, which, when he finds, points him homeward to\nHellas, to his own Gods.\n\nDeeply suggestive become all these mythical hints, when we once are in\ntouch with their spirit. We naturally pass to the Hebrew parallel,\nsince that other great world-historical people of antiquity, the\nIsraelites, had their experience also with Egypt. For them, too, it was\na land of darkness, slavery, divine estrangement. They also sought a\nReturn, not dissimilar to the Greek Return, to their true home. It was\na long, terrible time, a wandering not on the water, like the\nsea-faring Hellene, but in the wilderness and desert, like the\nsand-faring Semite. All the companions (but two) were lost, and the\nleader also; moreover that leader was learned in all the wisdom of the\nEgyptians, but had to get out of it and away from it, and lead his\npeople into their own possessions. Much light Egypt with all its\ndarkness furnished to Moses and Judea; much to Menelaus and to Hellas.\nSo the two chief streams of human culture, the Greek and the Hebrew,\nare traced back to the Egyptian source in the earliest books, or Bibles\nof the two peoples themselves.\n\nMoreover we find the form of the two grand experiences quite the same;\nthere is a going into Egypt, the land of dazzling riches and power and\ncivilization; there is the misfortune and trial in that land after a\ntime of prosperity, finally, there is the Return home, with many\nwanderings and sufferings. Both peoples bring with them what may be\ncalled the Egyptian idea, yet each transforms it into its own spirit\nafter its own fashion.\n\nStill further we may follow this thought and behold it as universal.\nThe form of separation and return is fundamental in human spirit; this\nis its inherent movement, and the shape which it imparts to the great\nworks of literature. The very destiny of man is cast into this mould;\nthere is, first, his estrangement, the fall from his high estate; then\nis his return to harmony with the divine order. The Hebrew Bible begins\nwith the Fall of Man; that is the first chapter; the rest of the book\nis his rise, and marks out the path of his Return which, of course,\nshows many sinuosities. Such is the deepest fact of the human soul, and\nto image it, there springs into existence the corresponding literary\nform. Not that it was taken consciously by the poet or maker after much\nratiocination; he has to take it, if he sees the universe as it is.\nThis form is the form of the everlasting reality, of which he has the\nimmediate vision, it is also the form of very selfhood, of the Ego.\n\nThough different in many things, the Odyssey and the Bible are both, at\nbottom, Returns. They restore the man after alienation. Indeed we may\nbehold the same form as fundamental in all Great Literary Books--in\nHomer, in Dante, in Shakespeare, in Goethe.\n\nMany things connected with this catching and holding of Proteus are\nsuggestive, but they are the flash of the poet into the depths, and\nmust be seen with the poetic glance, for they bear with much loss the\nheavy translation into thought. How this Eidothea, the Goddess of\nAppearance, turns against her own father, and helps to make him reveal\nhimself in his true shape; how Menelaus and his three comrades put on\nthe skins of the sea-calves, and deceive the deceiver, applying the\nlatter's art of transformation to himself, and destroying appearance\nwith appearance; how the poor mortals almost perish through the odor of\nthe skins of the sea-calves, thus showing their human weakness and\nlimitation, till ambrosia, the food of the Immortals, is brought by the\nGoddess, which at once relieves them of their mortal ailment--these and\nother incidents have their subtle, far-reaching hint of the\nsupersensible world. The whole story is illumined with one thought, how\nto master the material show of things and reach their spiritual\ninwardness.\n\nBut the chief duty of these people, now disguised to destroy disguise,\nis to hold the Old Man fast when they have once caught him, that\nshifty, ever-changing Old Man of the Sea. Let him turn to water, to a\nsnake, to a lion, to a tree--hold him fast; he is the One under them\nall and will at last reveal himself. Very necessary, indeed, is it to\nhold fast, and never let go in the grand play of Appearances; the\nstrength of the man is shown by his ability to hold fast, amid the\nfleeting shadows of Time.\n\nMenelaus holds the Old Man fast, and asks: What God detains me from my\nreturn? The answer comes home strong: Thou hast neglected the sacrifice\ndue to Zeus and the other deities; thou hast not recognized the Gods.\nVerily the heart of the difficulty; Menelaus has not placed himself in\nharmony with the divine order, in which he must act. What then? Go back\nto the beginning, back to Egypt, and start aright; commence thy return\nagain with the new light, recognize Zeus and the Gods by sacrifice\nthere, and thou shalt see home. Thus the Egyptian estrangement is\nremoved, the Greek hero of wisdom must reach beyond the experience of\nEgypt and be restored to the Greek Gods.\n\nAt once Menelaus was ready to obey, though \"his heart was broken\" at\nthe thought of recrossing the sea to Egypt, for the \"way was long and\ndifficult.\" Still he will do it; and next he is given a look into the\nDistant and Future, a glance into the soul of things separated from him\nby Space and Time. He will know concerning the Returners, in deep\naccord with the spirit of the poem. He hears of the awful death of\nAjax, son of Oileus, he hears of the sad fate of his brother Agamemnon;\nalso the Old Man of the Sea tells him a few words concerning Ulysses,\nwho is still alive but cannot get away from the isle of Calypso. News\njust good enough to give hope to the son who is eagerly listening, and\nhears that his father still lives.\n\nFinally, Menelaus learns of his own future existence from the Old Man,\nwho is in person the very embodiment of what lies beyond the senses, of\nimmortality. \"The Gods have decreed thou shalt not die, O Menelaus, but\nshalt dwell in the Elysian Plain, at the ends of the earth.\" He is the\nhusband of Helen, and coupled forever with her destiny; he is, through\nher, of the divine family of Zeus. Such is the promise, has it not been\nfulfilled?\n\nThe poet thus brings to an end his Fairy Tale, with its deep-reaching\nglances into Egypt as one of the antecedent sources of Hellenic\ncivilization. We find therein hinted a double relation: first, Egypt\nwas the giver of much wisdom to Greece especially the distinction into\nAppearance and the one First Principle; secondly, it was hostile to\nGreek spirit, which had to pass through the Egyptian stage to reach its\nown destiny. Homer spins, in this Book, a thread which connects the\nculture of Hellas with that of Egypt, So much we dare find in the\npresent legend without much straining. The distant background of this\nentire visit of Telemachus to Sparta is Egyptian and Oriental, as we\nsee from the talk of both Helen and Menelaus.\n\nWe may now be certain that Homer, the poet, had before him a thought of\nthis kind: the inner soul of things and the outward manifestation. The\nstory of Proteus we may call not merely a Fairy Tale, but the Fairy\nTale, which images its universal self in setting forth its special\ntheme; it has the one meaning, which, however, takes on many varieties\nof external shape; it is the essence of all Fairy Tales. Still you have\nto catch the Proteus and make him tell his secret; I can only advise\nyou to hold fast, and finally the true form of the Old Man will reveal\nitself, and speak the truth of many appearances, nay, of all. In\nreading this poem of Homer we are only following the poet, if we seek\nto lay hold of its essence under its varied manifestations. The whole\nOdyssey is a Proteus, ever changing, assuming new forms, which will\nutterly bewilder the reader until he reaches its first principle. Homer\nprobably suggests that his own Fairy Tale, nay, his own poem, is a\nProteus, which must be grasped and held by the one central thought. In\nfact, does not the modern reader, like ancient Menelaus, in his\nwanderings need an Eidothea, an interpreter, to point out the Old Man\nof the Sea, the First One, and to tell how to catch him? In the very\nnames of Proteus and Eidothea we feel the intention, the conscious\netymology which borders on personification. Yet around this simple\nsubstrate of thought are woven so many wonders, so many suggestions,\nfar-hinting and deep-glancing, that it becomes truly the Tale of Tales\n(_Maerchen aller Maerchen_).\n\nThe Fairy Tale will appear again in the Odyssey, and take possession of\nthe whole poem for a time when we come to the wanderings of Ulysses.\nNow it is but a slight bubbling-up of what will be a great stream. At\npresent it turns to the East and unfolds the Greek relation thereto;\nhereafter it will turn to the West, and unfold the Greek relation\nthereto. Both have their wise men, and the Return is from each\ndirection to Greece. The distinction between them we may suggest in\nadvance: the one has more of the speculative, of the spirit; the other\nhas more of the active, of the will, though neither side excludes the\nother. Both men return to Hellas as the common destination; hence, we\nfind in this Book everywhere expressed the intimate brotherhood between\nMenelaus and Ulysses.\n\nIt is of great interest to see the poet build his Fairy Tale, which is\nbut one form of his mythical procedure. Instinctively he builds it, as\nthe bee does the honey-cell. He places the God or Goddess at the center\nof every movement or event; by divine will it is all brought about. The\nsea which stands in the way of the return of Ulysses is a deity,\nPoseidon; Eidothea is a person, the voice of the world of Appearance,\nand she leads to Proteus, the Primal One. To Homer personality is at\nthe heart of this universe. Such is truly the mythical mind; all\nphenomena are the product of an intelligent will, not of blind law. Not\na long chain of cause and effect hovers before Homer's soul, thus his\nwork would be prose; but he sees self-cause at once, and so cannot help\nbeing poetical, as well as religious. The culture of to-day tends too\nmuch to divest us of the mythical spirit--which is not altogether a\ngain. Homer, if rightly studied, will help restore that lost gift of\nthe early ages.\n\nBut now we must turn our look to the youth for whom the tale has been\ntold--the learner Telemachus. He hears of the Orient and its principle;\nthe antecedents of his people, their origins, separations, their\nadvance upon the older nations are significantly hinted. All this is an\neducation. For its function is to bring together the scattered wisdom\nof the Past and to give it to the youth who is coming upon the stage of\nlife; thus he is made the spiritual heir of all that his race has\nachieved in word and deed. Telemachus has learned about the history of\nTroy, the great event of the early Greek world; he has heard the\nReturns of the Heroes, and he has seen Helen. But, chiefly, he has been\ntaught the grand distinction between Appearance and Substance; he has\ncome to know, if he has learned his lesson, the One in the Many; he has\nbeen shown how to reach beyond the sensuous appearances of things and\nenter the realm of spirit. Such is still the best education to-day,\nthough the manner of it be so different. There were no books in those\ndays, no schools but the lips of the aged; every Greek youth, to a\ndegree, was a Telemachus, and had a similar discipline. Tradition,\nsong, folk-lore are also means of education; we cannot do without the\nmythus even now, and we are in many ways seeking to restore it to its\nplace in the training of the child, and of the grown man too.\nTelemachus has graduated, he can now go home; so he asks to be\npermitted to depart for Ithaca, where the hardest practical problem of\nlife is awaiting him. But mark, he carries with him the grandest of all\nhospitable presents: the knowledge of the true and eternal in contrast\nto the unreal and transitory.\n\nIn these four Books of the Odyssey the education of the Homeric youth\nhas been given. Next we are to have the experiences of the man--those\nof the typical man Ulysses, as he works out his own problem. Menelaus\ncould not tell that tale; the man himself must be seen doing,\novercoming his obstacles by the deed. He will present a phase of life\nnot known to the East, not known to Egyptian Proteus. Thus the Odyssey\nwill be an entire book, a veritable Bible for young and old, with its\ncomplete cycle of human discipline.\n\nThe story of Proteus itself is Protean, and must be grasped in its\nessence through all its appearances. The whole Odyssey is veritably a\nProtean poem as already said, whose study is to seize the one truth\nwhich is underneath all these shifting shapes and manifold events. What\nare we doing now but trying to grasp Proteus in this exposition? There\nis no mythus in Homer which has wound itself so deeply and so variously\ninto the literature of the world. It would be an interesting history to\ntrace its employment by later poets, and see how it has mirrored itself\nin the consciousness of the ages. The last world-poet, Goethe, takes\nthe figure of Proteus from his eldest brother, the first world-poet,\nand transplants it into the Second Part of Faust, where it has its\nplace in the development of the modern man. The Mythus of Evolution the\ntale of Proteus becomes in Goethe's hands, and hints of Darwinism long\nbefore Darwin.\n\nStill the most significant historical fact of this Fourth Book is the\nconnection which it makes between Egypt and Greece. In another Greek\nlegend, that of OEdipus, the same connection is made through the\nSphinx, whose riddle the Greek hero solves, whereat the Egyptian\nmonster destroys itself.\n\nThe Sphinx, the grand symbol of Egypt and chief product of its Art, may\nbe taken as the Egyptian starting-point for both Greece and Judea. The\nSphinx is half human, half animal; the two are put together in stone\nand thus stand a fixed, unreconciled contradiction. Such was just the\nSphinx-riddle of humanity to the old Egyptian: man is a beast and a\nspirit, linked together without any true mediation. Both the Hebrew and\nthe Greek sought to solve this grand riddle, each in his own way. The\nHebrew attempted to extirpate the sensuous element; he would have no\ngraven image, no idolatry, he would worship only the pure spirit, and\nobey only the divine law. The Greek reconciled the two sides, by making\nthe sensuous element the bearer and the revealer of the spiritual. The\nanimal must be subordinated to the spirit, then it can live, nay can\nhave a new and higher existence. Thus Art arose in Greece, and not in\nJudea.\n\nThe interpretations which the story of Proteus has received are simply\ninfinite. Probably it appeals to every reader in a somewhat different\nfashion; he pours into this marvelous form certain phases of his own\nexperience and is satisfied. Indeed Proteus is not only a Form, but a\nForm of Forms for the human mind, hinting both the oneness and the\nmultiplicity of the Ego itself. We may go back to the Vedas and find\ntraces of it there in some sun-myth; we may go to the sea and find it a\nmiraculous legend in which the Greek sailor set forth his perils and\nhis escapes. It certainly connects Hellas with Egypt, and suggests the\nmovement of ancient civilization. Menelaus in his voyage transcends the\nGreek world of the Trojan epoch, and brings back the story thereof to\nhis country. The tale of Proteus is said to have been carried back to\nEgypt, where Herodotus, several hundred years after Homer, found it in\na new transformation, Proteus being a king of Egypt, who took Helen\nfrom Paris and kept her till Menelaus arrived and received her from the\nEgyptian ruler. Thus the Fairy Tale raised the Old Man of the Sea to\nthe royal dignity, changing sovereignty from water to land. (_Herodotus_,\nII. 112-20.) Plato makes him typical of a sophist, Schlegel of a poet,\nLucian of a dancer.\n\nWe shall now take a glance backwards and give a short summary of the\nstory, that its inner development in the hands of the poet may be more\nfully seen.\n\n1. The desolation of Menelaus and his companions on the island of\nPharos; no Return possible, death from hunger imminent. Moreover,\ndisregard of the Gods, internal estrangement, a condition of separation\nfrom the Divine, truly an Egyptian condition.\n\n2. Eidothea appears to him, just the Goddess of Appearance, and points\nhim to a power beyond herself. Hitherto he was lost in the world of\nAppearance; but when he thinks of it, he separates himself from it, and\nsees its nullity. So the Finite points to the Infinite, the Fleeting to\nthe Permanent, the Sensible to the Supersensible, Eidothea to Proteus,\nwho is the First One, or the First Principle underlying all Appearance,\nhence her father.\n\n3. She tells also how to catch him. When he emerges from the water,\nsource of all Forms, indeed just the Formable (see Goethe's Faust, Part\nII. in the _Classical Walpurgisnight_), he will count by fives all his\nsea-calves, or sea-forms, offspring of the sea (Halosydna). This\ncounting by fives, is significant, hinting the earliest abstraction\nfrom the sensuous through number, specially by means of the five-system,\nthough Homer knew well the decimal system (see _Od._ XVI, 245. _Iliad_\nII. 126). Menelaus with his companions is to take on this sea-form, and\nbe counted with the rest, though in disguise; then when Proteus lies\ndown to sleep with his herds or Forms, he is to be seized; that is,\nseized in repose, as he is himself, not in relation to his shapes. They\nmust continue to hold fast to this primal Form of Proteus, or the\narchetype, through all his changes, till he resumes his first shape,\n\"the one in which thou sawest him in repose.\" Then they possess the\nEssence as distinct from the Phenomenon; they know that their disguise\nhas torn off all disguise, and attained the real.\n\n4. Proteus will now tell Menelaus the truth devoid of all delusive\nshows; ere the latter can leave Egypt and return to Greece he must put\nhimself into harmony with the Greek Gods, Zeus and the rest. So he has\nto go back to Egypt's river and start over again in the right way. Then\nhe will make the Return to Hellas.\n\n5. Proteus also gives the fate of a number of Returners. Ajax he\nspecially speaks about--Ajax, son of Oileus (not the greater Ajax), the\nblasphemer, who said he would return in spite of the Gods, and at once\nperished. The account of the death of Ajax has its meaning for\nMenelaus, who thought of getting home with paying due regard to the\nGods. Once more Agamemnon's dire lot is told with some new incidents\nadded. Thirdly Proteus has seen Ulysses in an ocean isle with the nymph\nCalypso who detains him though eager to get away. Thus the son hears\nthe fact about his father. Finally Proteus prophesies the immortality\nof Menelaus, for has not the latter reached beyond Appearance into the\nEternal already, just by catching and holding Proteus? So the Old Man\nof the Sea cannot help giving this prophecy, which lives directly in\nhis own experience.\n\nThough Telemachus is not told that his father is returning, still he\nmay draw such an inference from the story of Menelaus, who was also\ndetained on an island longing to get home. If the Gods, being duly\nrecognized, will give their help in the one case, they will in the\nother; they too, will come to the aid of Ulysses, when he has placed\nhimself in harmony with them. This is what is about to happen.\n\nAs already set forth, there are three divisions of this first part of\nthe Fourth Book: the simple idyllic Present at Sparta, the disrupted\nstrifeful Past at Troy, the movement out of the latter by way of Egypt.\nTaking the three divisions together, we note that they form the total\nsweep of one great Return, that of Menelaus, from unity through\nseparation back to harmony. Thus Menelaus and also Helen are shown to\nhave solved their problem.\n\nBut there remains the harder and deeper problem of Ithaca, which is\nthat of Ulysses. Here enemies have possession of the man's home, and he\nbrings back no help, only himself. It is therefore, a natural\ntransition to introduce at this point the Ithacan condition which is\nseen to be more difficult than the Spartan one, for Menelaus seems to\nhave had no enemies in his house to dispute his Return, as Agamemnon\nhad and also Ulysses has. But Agamemnon perished, Ulysses will not.\n\n\nII.\n\nAccordingly the affairs of Ithaca are introduced, as they happened\nafter the departure of Telemachus. This thread is picked up from the\nSecond Book, where he had his final conference with the Suitors and\ntold them his mind. We must recall that Ithaca is the abode of conflict\nand disorder; the Suitors and Household of Penelope are the two\nantagonistic elements; upon both the secret departure of Telemachus\nexplodes like a bomb, and brings the characters of each side to the\nsurface.\n\nTelemachus stands in relation to the Suitors as well as to his mother;\nboth are putting their restraints upon him which he has broken through\nand asserted his freedom, his new manhood. One, however, is the\nrestraint of hate, the other is the restraint of love; both stand in\nthe way of his development. He must get his great education in defiance\nof Suitors and of mother. The attitudes of these two parties are\ndescribed, and form the two divisions of this second part of the Fourth\nBook.\n\n1. The Suitors, when they hear of the deed of Telemachus, are not only\nsurprised but startled, and they at once recognise that a new power has\nrisen which threatens to punish their misdeeds. The youth has plainly\nbecome a man, a man showing the skill and courage of his father, and\nwith the sense of wrong burning in his breast. Already he has declared\nthat he would wreak vengeance upon them, the day of reckoning seems to\nhave dawned. Previously they despised his warnings as the helpless\nbabble of a mere boy; now they have to meet him, returning, possibly,\nwith help from his father's friends.\n\nWhat will the Suitors do? The most audacious one, Antinous, is ready\nwith a proposal. The boy will prove a pest, we must waylay him on his\nreturn and murder him. Such is their final act of wrong, which is now\naccepted by all, and the proposer gets ready to carry out his plan.\nHitherto it may be said the Suitors had a certain right, the right of\nsuit, which, however, becomes doubtful through the uncertainty about\nthe death of the husband, and through the unwillingness of the wife.\nBut now their guilt is brought out in strong colors, there can be no\nquestion about it. They man a boat and lie in wait for their prey on a\nlittle island which the youth has to pass in coming home.\n\n2. The mother Penelope hears of the daring act of her boy, done without\nher consent or knowledge. The news is brought to her, just as she is\nrecounting the goodness of Ulysses and the wrongs of the Suitors. This\nnew misfortune, for so it seemed to her, is quite too great a burden to\nbear; she breaks out into lamentations find recites her woes: a husband\nlost and now a son in the greatest danger. But she is to get both human\nand divine consolation. Eurycleia, the old nurse, confesses to her part\nin the affair, and advises the queen \"to put on fresh garments and to\npray to Pallas, ascending to the upper chamber.\"\n\nPallas sends to the distressed mother a refreshing sleep and a\nconsoling dream, which we may consider to have been suggested by the\nwords of Eurycleia. Her sister who dwelt far away, appears to her and\nsays that her son, guided by Pallas, will surely return. Doubtless we\nsee here an expression of the deepest instinct of Penelope; the outer\nsuggestion of the nurse and her own unconscious faith fuse together and\nform the phantom and give to the same an utterance. The youth who can\nplan and carry out such an expedition will probably be able to take\ncare of himself. Penelope of course has some doubt, since the good\nUlysses has had to suffer so much from the Gods. About him, too, she\nwill know and so inquires of the phantom. Doth he live? But the shadowy\nimage can tell nothing, the act of Ulysses lies not in its field of\nvision, it declines to speak further and vanishes.\n\nThus Telemachus has broken through the two restraints which held him in\nbondage at his Ithacan home, both keeping down his manly endeavor. The\nfirst comes from the Suitors and is the restraint of hate, which would\ngive him no opportunity in the world of action, and in addition is\ndestroying his possessions. The second restraint springs from love, and\nyet is injurious. The solicitude of the mother keeps him back from\nevery enterprise; having lost her husband, as she deems, by his too\nadventuresome spirit, she is afraid of losing her boy for the same\nreason, and is in danger of losing him anyhow, by making him a cipher.\nSuch are the two obstacles in Ithaca which Telemachus is shown\nsurmounting and asserting therein his freedom and manhood. The whole is\na flash of his father's mettle, he is already the unconscious Ulysses;\nno wonder that he inquires after his parent in Pylos and Sparta. The\npoet will now carry him forward to the point where he will actually\nmeet and know Ulysses himself; the son is to advance to direct\ncommunion with his great father.\n\nHere the Fourth Book, or rather the Telemachiad, reaches out and\nconnects with the Ithakeiad, which begins in the Thirteenth Book.\nUlysses returns to Ithaca and steals to the hut of the swineherd\nEumaeus; Telemachus comes back from Sparta, and, avoiding the ambush of\nthe Suitors, seeks the same faithful servant. Thus father and son are\nbrought together, and prepare themselves for their heroic task.\n\nBut before this task can be accomplished, the grand experience of\nUlysses is to be told in the eight following Books (V-XII); that is, we\nare now to have the Ulyssiad, just as we have had the Telemachiad.\nFather and son are now separated from home and country; both are to\nreturn through a common deed of heroism.\n\n_General Observations._ Looking back at the Telemachiad (the first four\nBooks) we observe that it constitutes a very distinct member of the\ntotal organism of the Odyssey. So distinct is it that some expositors\nhave held that it is a separate poem, not an integral portion of the\nentire action. The joint is, indeed, plain at this place, still it is a\njoint of the poetic body, and not a whole poetic body by itself. Only\ntoo easy is it for our thought to dwell in division, separation,\nscission, analysis; let us now turn to the opposite and more difficult\nhabit of mind, that of uniting, harmonizing, making the synthesis of\nwhat seems disjointed. In other words let us find the bonds of\nconnection between the last four Books and the coming eight Books, or\nbetween the Telemachiad and the Ulyssiad.\n\n1. We have already noticed the three grand Returns, rising one above\nthe other to the culmination--that of Nestor, of Menelaus, of Ulysses.\nNow the first two are told in the Telemachiad; but they openly lead up\nto the third, which is the complete Return, and which is just the theme\nof the Ulyssiad. Nestor makes the immediate Return, without conflict,\nthrough Greece, but he points directly to Menelaus, and foreshadows the\ncoming of Ulysses. Menelaus, however, prophesies the third Return, and\nthus directly joins his account with the Ulyssiad. In this manner we\nsee and feel the intimate bond between these two grand divisions of the\ntotal Odyssey.\n\n2. We notice the same general movement in the Telemachiad and in the\nUlyssiad; the same fundamental scheme underlies both. There is the real\nPresent, in the one case Ithaca, Pylos, Sparta, in the other ease\nPhaeacia; then there is in the same heroic Past the Trojan war and its\ndeeds of valor; thirdly there is a movement in both to an ideal world,\nto a Fableland, outside of Hellas and beyond even Troy; finally there\nis a Return in both to Greece and to the Present. Setting the stages of\nthis movement down in definite numbers, we have, first in the\nTelemachiad: (1) Hellas, the Present; (2) back to Troy, the Past, in\nthe reminiscences of Nestor, Menelaus, Helen; (3) forward to the Fairy\nWorld in the account of Proteus; (4) return to Ithaca at the end of the\nFourth Book. Secondly in the Ulyssiad we may here note in advance the\nsame general movement: (1) Phaeacia, the Present; (2) back to Troy in\nthe strains of Demodocus; (3) forward to the Fairy World of Polyphemus\nand Circe; (4) return to Ithaca in the Thirteenth Book. Thus we reach\ndown and grasp the fundamental norm according to which the poet\nwrought, and which holds in unity all the differences between these two\ndivisions of the poem. The spiritual basis of this movement, its\npsychological ground, we shall endeavor to unfold more fully hereafter.\n\n3. In correspondence with the preceding, we can distinguish in both\ndivisions the same kinds of style: (1) the symple Idyllic Tale of the\nPresent; (2) the Heroic Tale recounting the Past and specially the\nTrojan war; (3) the Fairy Tale which introduces a supernatural realm.\nEach of these styles is poetic, yet with its own coloring and\ncharacter. Here again we should observe the author employing his\nfundamental norm of composition a second time, and thus re-asserting\nhimself as the same person in both divisions of the poem--in the\nTelemachiad as well as in the Ulyssiad.\n\n4. In each division, again, there is a supreme woman at the center of\ndomestic life--Penelope in the one, Arete in the other, each being wife\nand mother, each supremely faithful to her institution, the Family.\nThis predominance and glorification of the married woman and the home\nconstitute a common characteristic of both divisions, and show the same\nfundamental conception of her worth, as well as of her position in the\nsocial order. It may be doubted if Modern Literature has improved upon\nthis Homeric representation.\n\n5. Then the contrasts between the Telemachiad and the Ulyssiad link\nthem together. Disturbed Ithaca, peaceful Phaeacia; the theoretic\neducation of the son, the practical discipline of the father;\nTelemachus, the son of his father, Nausicaa, the daughter of her\nmother, the Ithacan boy and the Phaeacian girl--such are a few of these\ncontrasts. Finally father and son, strongly contrasted, yet having\ntheir unity in this family of which they are members, suggest the unity\nof the poem of which they are characters.\n\nThese bonds of connection are so strong that they overbalance all\ndiscrepancies of single passages, interpolations, and inconsistencies\nof detail. Still, if the mind of the critic refuses the general sweep,\nand insists upon prying asunder the joints, and upon looking through\nits microscope at the little things, it will find only separation,\ndiscord, and many small Homers instead of a single great Homer. The\nparticular always divides, but the general unites; so the Homeric poems\nwill have two sets of reader, the dividers and the unifiers.\n\n_The Education of Telemachus._ This is another name, which we have\nfrequently used, for the Telemachiad. The Homeric youth is also to get\nhis training for life; he is to find and to take possession of his\ninheritance transmitted from the Past. The general statement of this\neducational fact occurs frequently in the work: Telemachus wishes to\nknow about his father. That is his immediate inquiry, which will extend\nto knowing something about the fathers and what they did; then his\ninvestigation will go beyond the fathers and the Greek world, reaching\nover into Egypt and the East. The function of education is to put into\npossession of the coming man the wisdom of the Past, and specially the\nmeans for acquiring this wisdom; then he can transmit the intelligence\nof the race to those who are to follow him. So Telemachus has attained\nthe age when he must know ancestral wisdom. Such is his strong\ninstinct, he feels his limitation, he is penned up in a narrow life at\nIthaca, whose barriers cramp his free spirit. This intense desire for\neducation, for finding out something about the world in which he is\nplaced, is the starting point for the boy. He shows his spirit by\nbreaking through the restraint of the Suitors and his mother in order\nto get an education. Like many a youth to-day, he has to leave home,\nhas to run away, in fact, that he may have his opportunity. What does\nhe get? Or, what is the content of this education! Let us see.\n\n1. We find that he gets a fair amount of religious training. He has\nbeen led through the misfortunes of his House to question the goodness\nof Providence and the superintendence of the Gods. But Minerva gives\nhim a strong lesson, so does Nestor. He obtains a glimpse of the Divine\nOrder, and feels the necessity of keeping in harmony with the same. The\noutcome of his visit must impress him with the providential side in\nhuman action.\n\n2. He sees new countries, talks with famous men, and partakes of their\nwisdom. Chiefly, however, he hears of the grand Return in its manifold\nphases; he learns the story of those who failed, of those who reached\nhome, like Nestor and Menelaus. Great is the lesson; this Return images\nthe movement of the soul, the breach within and the restoration. It is\nremotely his own inner life outlined, and that of every man; Telemachus\nhas just made a separation from home and country, to which he must come\nback and be reconciled. His own soul-form he must dimly feel in the\ngreat Return of the Heroes from Troy, and their various destinies he\nmust recognize to be his own possibilities.\n\n3. Telemachus the aspiring youth, is trying to recover his patrimony,\nwhich is of two kinds, physical and spiritual. The Suitors are\ndestroying the one, and keeping it out of his hands; with them is one\nconflict, that of justice. But he must also inherit his father's mental\nriches; he has to separate from home and his mother to find this form\nof wealth or even to learn of its nature. So Telemachus has his Trojan\nexpedition, not so great in itself, yet, adventurous enough for a boy.\nHe is moving on the lines of his father when the latter went to Troy--a\nnational affair; but his deed is a breaking loose from boyhood--the\nbreach out of which he is to come back a man.\n\n4. The form of this educative process of the Odyssey is very different\nfrom ours. It seizes hold of the mythical element in man, and the\nreader of to-day is to penetrate to the meaning by something of an\neffort. Telemachus is to see Helen; what does that signify in\neducation? He is to hear the Tale of Proteus and feel its purport in\nrelation to his own discipline. One asks: Is not this imaginative form\nstill a vital element of education? The Odyssey has been and is now a\nschool-book of the race.\n\n\n\n\n_THE ULYSSIAD._\n\n\nWe have now reached the second grand division of the poem, the Odyssey\nproper, which we have named under necessity the Ulyssiad, and which\ngives an account of the adventures of Ulysses before he comes to Ithaca\nand joins Telemachus. If the division which we have just had may be\ncalled the education of a youth, this division may be called the\ndiscipline of a man through experience of the world. The whole embraces\neight Books, fifth to twelfth inclusive, with a little of the\nthirteenth. There is no doubt that this is the most subtly constructed\npiece of writing in existence, transparent in the highest degree, and\nyet profound as thought itself. We may therefore, look a little at the\nstructure in advance.\n\nThe first thing to be noticed is that there are two very distinct\nmovements in the present division. On the one hand the action moves\nthrough three separate localities--Ogygia or Calypso's Island, Phaeacia,\nFableland. This external movement of the poem has its inner\ncounterpart, which the reader is to penetrate. On the other hand there\nis the movement of the individual, the Hero Ulysses, who begins with\nFableland, passes through Ogygia and comes to Phaeacia. This movement\nalso has its corresponding internal significance. As the first movement\nis that of the poem, or of the world, we may call it objective; as the\nsecond movement is that of the individual man, we may call it\nsubjective. The two together, accordingly, spin the two strands of the\nworld and of man into the one thread of existence. Both we shall\nconsider.\n\n\nI.\n\nThe objective sweep with its three localities is coupled with\ngeographical names which have given to the erudite guild a great deal\nof trouble, with very small reward. In general these names of places\nmay be deemed to be mythical, yet with certain far-off gleams of actual\nlands. Much more distinct and real is their spiritual significance. The\nobjective movement shadows forth the movement of society, the rise of\ncivilization, the becoming of the institutional world, which is here\nunfolded through three stages in the following order:--\n\n    1. Ogygia.\n    2. Phaeacia.\n    3. Fableland.\n\n1. Ogygia is the pure product of nature without cultivation or with\nvery little. It is the place where the natural man must conquer his\nappetites, and long for, and finally seek for, a realm of order.\nCalypso is the concealer, she who conceals spirit in the jungle of\nnature. Here, then, occurs the primordial breach between the physical\nand spiritual, out of which an institutional world can rise.\n\n2. Phaeacia now appears, in which we behold the fundamental institutions\nof man, Family and State, in their primitive idyllic condition, yet\ntranscendently pure and beautiful. The evolution of this new order from\nthe savage Cyclops is hinted in the poem. Only after Calypso is put\naside, do Arete the wife and Nausicaa the maid become possible. Upon\nsuch a foundation a social system can be developed, with commerce,\nnavigation, etc. Still further, Phaeacia can begin to mirror itself in\nart, as it does here in the songs of the bard, and also in games.\n\n3. Fableland comes next, really a product of self-conscious art. In it\nare set forth the struggles which arise between man and the civilized\norder. Phaeacia is the simple condition of peace; man is in complete\nharmony with himself and his institutional environment. But what if he\nfalls out with both? That will be a new stage, represented by a new set\nof beings, who are to indicate not so much the conflict with nature as\nthe conflict with spirit. The world of reality is transcended,\nmarvelous shapes sweep into view, Polyphemus, Circe, the Sirens, even\nthe supersensible realm of Hades--all of which, however, must await a\nspecial exposition. Still we should note that after this ideal realm of\nstruggle and desperate enterprise comes the real world of strife,\nIthaca, which is to be harmonized by the man who has passed through\nthis Fableland, and has reached an ideal harmony in Phaeacia.\n\n\nII.\n\nWe soon find that Ulysses has been thrown back to Calypso's Isle from\nFableland, of which in a certain sense it is the continuation. The\ncircle which he has passed through is, therefore, the following:--\n\n    1. Fableland.\n    2. Ogygia.\n    3. Phaeacia.\n\nThis is, then, the movement of the individual, in contrast with the\nprevious sweep of the poem as a whole, which represents the movement of\nthe world. Both are bound together, both pass through the same stages,\nthough in a different order. The process of social development begins\nwith the state of Nature, with Ogygia, unfolds into a simple\ninstitutional life, into Phaeacia, which then enters into certain\nnegative phases, such as are seen in Fableland. But the man from Troy,\nUlysses, begins with the last, and is whelmed back into the first, and\nfinally rests in the second before going to Ithaca. Let us note this\npersonal movement in a little more detail.\n\n1. Ulysses passes into Fableland, having wantonly done a deed of\nviolence against civilized life and order by destroying the city of the\nCiconians (Book IX), as he was returning from the Trojan War. Such is\nthe negative element in him, which has been engendered by that war, and\nwhich now appears in various manifestations, such as his doings with\nPolyphemus and Circe, till his career in Fableland winds up with\ndestroying the Oxen of the Sun. This is the extreme negative act which\nthrows him back beyond Circe's into Calypso's realm. He assaults really\nhis own will in this last act, he undermines his own power of recovery,\nhe puts out his own light. Circe would have sent him forward again,\nleaving intact his will-power; Calypso detains him lulled in the\nsensuous delights of her bower. He denies his own reason; how then can\nhe rise after a fall? Indeed what use is there of rising? So he sinks\ndown into Ogygia, the Dark Island.\n\n2. It is no wonder, therefore, that he remained with Calypso seven\nyears and more, draining to the dregs the cup of that life. Still he\nhas desire to return home, must have it, he must possess reason to deny\nreason. He longs for what he has not, sensuous charms cannot drown his\naspiration; such is the Hell in which he has placed himself. Still even\nhere when he has passed his probation, he must be released by a decree\nof the Gods, who, formerly favorable to Neptune, the divine foe of\nUlysses, have now become friendly to Minerva, the Hero's protectress.\nWhy this change in the everlasting powers? When Ulysses is ready to\nleave Ogygia, the Gods cannot keep him there, they have to change; the\ndivine Order must help him escape, if it be divine. This is just what\nhappens; Zeus, voice of the Olympian law, commands his departure, and\nCalypso must obey.\n\n3. Ulysses, then, comes to Phaeacia, an institutional land with social,\ndomestic, and political life. From the grot of Calypso he passes to the\nhome of Arete; both woman and man are in an ethical relation. He sees a\nworld of peace and harmony, he witnesses the corrective of his own\nnegative Trojan experience. He, having taken Phaeacia into himself, has\na remedy for distracted Ithaca; he has beheld an ideal to which he can\nadjust his own land. He was not the man to bring civil order to Ithaca\njust after the destruction of Troy; now he has passed through his own\ndestructive phases, has become conscious of them, has told them to the\nPhaeacians, which long account has in it the character of a confession.\nAll is given in a mythical form, but it is none the less an\nacknowledgment of error from first to last. He is the poetical\nconfessor of himself, and the Phaeacians are contemplating the grand\nexperience in the mirror of art.\n\nWe may now see the reason why the poet began the story of Ulysses with\nthe stay at Calypso's Isle. Thus the poem unfolds in the order of\nsociety, starting with the state of nature, passing thence to a\ncivilized condition, and showing finally the conflicts of the same with\nthe negative forces which develop in its own bosom. Homer could have\nlanded Ulysses at Phaeacia, and could have made the Ulyssiad start in\nthat sphere, placing Calypso's Book just after the account of the\nslaughter of the Oxen of the Sun. But what a loss would that have been!\nNo social development would thus be suggested in the movement of the\npoem, and the individual Ulysses would have to pass, not from\ninstitutional Phaeacia, but from savage Ogygia to the reformation of\nIthaca. In this way we realize to ourselves the true instinct, or\nperchance the profound thought which underlies the structure of this\nportion of the poem.\n\nThus we conceive the double movement of the Ulyssiad through its three\nmain stages, in which we feel strongly emphasized the idea of\ndevelopment, of a genetic process. These lands and peoples are\ngenerated by the wanderer's own spirit, though they all exist in their\nown right and are carefully set down in Homeric geography. Ogygia is\nthe product of Ulysses himself, and so he goes thither to the reality.\nThe misfortunes in these lands are the very deeds of the offenders\nreturning upon them. As the Gods are both subjective and objective, so\nare these poetic places and persons; they are both in Ulysses and\noutside of him, they are the inner change of the individual and the\nouter development of the world. Each, however, fits into the other, is\ninseparably intertwined with the other; both together form the double\nmovement which is the fundamental structural fact of the present\ndivision of the Odyssey.\n\nOf course our unfolding of the subject must follow the movement of the\npoem, but we shall not neglect the movement of the individual.\nAccordingly Calypso's Island, Ogygia, is the realm which is to be first\nconsidered.\n\n\n\n\n_BOOK FIFTH._\n\n\nIn this Book the reader will observe two distinct parts, which are so\noften found in Homer and constitute the deepest distinction in his\npoems: these two parts are the Upper World of the Gods and the Lower\nWorld of Man, both of which are shown in action and counteraction. The\ngrand dualism between the mortal and the immortal is fused into a\nliving narrative and makes the warp and woof of Homeric poesy. The\ngeneral purport of both parts is seen to be the same at bottom: it is\nto remove the obstacles which stand in the way of the Return of Ulysses\nto home and country. These obstacles arise from the Gods above and from\nNature below--the divine and the physical, though the latter also is\npresided over by deities. Thus the Greek hero, with the aid of the\nhigher Gods, is to put down the lower ones, or convert them into aids\nfor his advancement towards the grand end, which is his institutional\nlife in Family and State. In this way only can Ulysses, from his\nalienation, attain unto harmony with himself and with the Divine Order.\n\nThe first part of the Book gives the Council of the Gods and its\nconsequences reaching down to the mortal who is the subject of\ndeliberation. We shall note three stages in this movement from Olympus\nto Earth: (1) Zeus to Hermes, (2) Hermes to Calypso, (3) Calypso to\nUlysses. Thus from the highest the decree is brought below and opens\nthe providential way.\n\nThe second part deals with the mortal, who is brought into relation\nwith three Gods, all representing phases of the physical element of\nwater: (1) Neptune, the great deity of the sea, (2) Ino Leucothea, a\nlesser deity of the same, (3) the River-God, through whose channel\nUlysses comes at last to land. It is manifest that he must rise beyond\nthese water-divinities with their uncertain fluctuating element, and\nattain to the fixed earth with its life, ere he can find repose. We\nshall now develop these two parts of the Book with their subdivisions\nin the order stated above.\n\n\nI.\n\nFirst then is the divine obstacle, which has to be removed by the Gods\nin Homer, when the individual is ready to have it removed. This\nobstacle is at present centered in the Goddess Calypso, the marvelous\nconcealer and extinguisher of the Hero in her island Ogygia. Neptune is\nnot here spoken of, though his element, the sea, is mentioned as\nsomething which must also be met and transcended; the Hero through his\nown will can surmount this difficulty. Verily Calypso is the grand\nspiritual hindrance of Ulysses, and, to help him get rid of it, the\nOlympians assemble and start the movement, the conditions being that he\nis internally prepared to be helped by the Gods. Of the latter fact we\nshall note a number of indications hereafter.\n\nOf this divine activity in removing the first obstacle we may\ndistinguish three phases:--\n\n1. The council of the Gods on Olympus under the presidency of Zeus, and\nthe decree there.\n\n2. Hermes is sent by the supreme deity to Calypso, with the decree.\n\n3. Calypso imparts the decree to Ulysses, who soon sets about doing his\npart.\n\nIn this brief outline we see the descent of the divine influence from\nZeus the Highest, through Hermes messenger of the Gods, to Calypso, a\nlocal subordinate deity, down to the mortal Ulysses who is to get the\nbenefit thereof. Thus the poet makes his world-order ready for the deed\nof the man, who is now to act with all the energy of his being, and not\nlie back expecting the Gods to do everything for him. Such is the\nsituation between the divine and human sides, of which we shall\nelaborate the former a little more fully.\n\n1. The council of the Gods in which the matter is now discussed, seems\nsomewhat like a repetition of the one at the beginning of the First\nBook, which indeed starts the whole poem. At present we may suppose\nthat the poet wishes to recall that first council and its decree to the\nmind of the reader, inasmuch as the latter is now to begin the second\ngrand division of the poem, the Odyssey proper, or Return of Ulysses.\n\nPallas takes up the complaint and arraigns Providence on an ethical\nground: the good king is forgotten and the good man suffers. To the\nface of the Supreme Ruler she draws the conclusion: \"Let not any\nsceptered king henceforth be kind to his people and recognize justice,\nbut always let him be harsh and work unrighteousness.\" Then she cites\nthe unhappy lot of Ulysses. But Zeus throws the charge back upon\nPallas, for she already had laid the divine plan that Ulysses was to\ntake vengeance on wrong-doing suitors, and Telemachus she could save\n\"by her skill,\" if so she chose. Here Pallas again hints as she did in\nthe First Book, the two lines on which the poem moves (Telemachus and\nUlysses), and she also notes the two present obstacles (Calypso and the\nsea) in the way of the Return of Ulysses.\n\nThe divine activity begins work at once: Zeus sends Hermes to Calypso\nwith the Olympian decree. Ulysses, however, is to reach home \"without\nany escort of the Gods or of mortal men;\" that is, he must exercise his\nown free-will tremendously, there is to be no special intervention of\nthe Gods without the corresponding human effort. Note this passage as\nindicating the consciousness of the poet respecting divine help; it is\nnot to take the place of free agency, but to complement the same. The\nHero will have to sail on a raft, \"suffering evils;\" but he will reach\n\"the land of the Phaeacians, near of kin to the Gods,\" where he will be\n\"honored as a God,\" and will be sent home with abounding wealth, \"more\nthan he would ever have received at Troy, returning unharmed with his\nshare of the booty.\" Such is the promise of the world-governor to the\nself-reliant man; this promise is not fate but foresight on the part of\nthe Supreme God. \"Thus is the Hero destined to see again his friends,\"\nnamely by means of a small raft or float, which he alone must control\nin his own strength, without the help of God or man. Such is the reward\nof heroic endeavor, proclaimed by Zeus himself.\n\n2. The messenger Hermes begins his flight down to Calypso, holding his\nmagic wand, with which he puts men to sleep or wakens them, imparting\nthe power of vision or taking it away. He reaches the wonderful island\nwith its grot, the account of which has been a master-stroke in\nliterature, and shows that the description of nature was not alien to\nthe Greek poet, though he rarely indulges in it. One thinks that the\npassage contains a suggestion of much modern writing of the kind.\n\nIt is to be noted that this island is mostly a wild product, it has had\nvery little training from its resident. A natural house and garden we\nsee it to be in the main; the senses, especially sight and smell, are\ngratified immediately by physical objects. There is little indication\nof Art, possibly a beginning in the singing and weaving; rude nature\nmay have been transformed somewhat in the four fountains and in the\ntrailing grape-vine. But this description is not made for its own sake,\nas are many modern descriptions of nature; the whole is the true\nenvironment for Calypso, and suggests her character.\n\nHer name means the concealer, concealed herself in that lone sea-closed\nisland, and concealing others. Undeveloped she is, like nature, yet\nbeautiful; sunken still in the life of the senses, she dwells in her\nlittle paradise without any inner scission. But it must be recollected\nthat Ulysses is not native to the island, he has come or rather fallen\nhither, from a higher condition. He, therefore, has the scission in\nhimself, he longs to leave and be restored out of this realm of mere\nnature.\n\nWith such a longing the Gods must coincide, for they are the Gods of\nculture, of the rise out of the physical. The long Journey of Hermes\nhints the distance between Olympus and Calypso's isle--a distance which\nhas its spiritual counterpart. The command of the Olympians is borne to\nthis lower Goddess; Hermes is the voice of the higher ethical divinity\nto the lower one of mere nature. But even the higher God has his\nphysical counterpart, is not yet wholly a spirit; so Hermes eats his\nambrosia and drinks his nectar set before him by Calypso in true Greek\nfashion and misses the smoke of sacrifices along his barren route.\n\nIt is curious to see how Hermes plays with polytheism, hinting ever so\nslyly the contradiction in the Greek Pantheon. \"Why dost thou a God ask\nme a God why I come?\" It is indeed an absurd question, for a God ought\nto know in advance. In numerous places we can trace a subtle Homeric\nhumor which crops out in dealing with his many deities, indicating a\nstart toward their dissolution. Then with a strong assertion of the\nsupremacy of one God, Zeus, Hermes utters the unwilling word: Ulysses\nmust depart from this island.\n\nThe answer of Calypso is significant, she charges the Gods with\njealousy; \"Ye grudge the Goddesses openly to mate with men,\" which\nproposition she nails by several examples. But the Gods reserve to\nthemselves the privilege of license with mortal women. A complaint\nstill heard, not in the Olympian but in our Lower World; men are not\nheld to the same code of morals that women are! But Calypso yields up\nher lover whom she \"thought to make immortal and ageless.\" What else\ncan she do? It is true that she saved him once and has preserved him\ntill the present; she is, however, but a stage which must now be\ntranscended. Appetite may preserve man, still he is to rise above\nappetite.\n\n3. Now Ulysses is brought before us. The first fact about him is, his\nintense longing to return home; he is found \"sitting on the shore, and\nhis eyes were never dry of tears\" as he looked out on the sea toward\nhis country; \"for the nymph was no longer pleasing to him,\" whatever\nmay have been the case once. Surely the hero is in bonds which he\ncannot break, though he would; a penitential strand we may well find in\nhis sorrow; thus he is ready for release.\n\nCalypso, therefore, announces to him the divine plan: he must make a\nraft and commit himself to the waters. She has to obey, for is she not\nreally conquered by Ulysses? Certainly the divine order requires her to\nsend the man away from her island. Yet the return is by no means made\neasy, but is to be won by hardest effort; he must grapple with the\nwaves, with angry Neptune after leaving Calypso. No wonder that Ulysses\nshuddered at the proposition; truly he has the choice between the devil\nand the deep sea, and he manfully chooses the latter. First, however,\nthe Goddess has to take the great oath \"by Earth, by Heaven above and\nStyx below,\" the sum total of the physical universe, from whose\npresence the perjurer cannot escape, though a God, that she is not\npracticing any hidden guile against her much-desired guest. Always the\ndoubter, the skeptic Ulysses will show himself, even toward a divinity.\nHe must test the Gods also, as well as man. Very beautiful and humane\nis the answer of the Goddess: \"Such things I plan and deliberate for\nthee as I would devise for myself, were I in so great straits. For I\ntoo have a righteous mind, and the heart within my breast is not of\niron, but compassionate.\"\n\nHas a change come over the Goddess through this visit from Olympus?\nHardly could she have felt this before, else she would have sent away\nUlysses of her own accord. Her adjustment to the divine decree seems\nnow to be internal, and not simply a yielding to an external power.\nStill the separation costs her deep pangs, and she wonders how Ulysses,\na mortal, can give her up, who is immortal, with all her beauty and the\npleasures of her paradise.\n\nThe answer of Ulysses reveals the man in his present stale of mind. He\nrecognizes Calypso as beautiful, deathless, ever young; still he must\nhave something more than sensuous life and beauty; though it last\nforever, it can never satisfy. Not to be compared with the Goddess in\ngrace and stature, is his wife Penelope, still he longs for his home;\n\"yea, though some God wreck me on the wine-dark deep, I shall endure.\"\nBut there is no doubt the other side is also present in Ulysses; he has\nwithin himself a strong sensuous nature with which is the battle, and\nthe poem does not disguise the matter, for he is again ready to enjoy\nall the pleasures of Calypso's bower, after this paroxysm of\nhome-sickness.\n\nSuch is the deep struggle of the man; such is also the divine obstacle,\nwhich has to be removed by an Olympian interference before he can\nreturn. We see that Ulysses in spite of all blandishments of the\nGoddess and momentary weakness of himself, was ready for its removal;\nin his heart he has overcome Calypso, and wishes to get back to his\ninstitutional life in Family and State. Such a man must return, the\nGods must be on his side, else they are not Gods. According to the\nGreek conception, Calypso is a subordinate deity who must be put down\nby the Olympians; appetite is not a devil, but a lower good, which must\nbe adjusted to the higher. Note, then, that the external stream, or the\nworld-movement represented by the Gods, now unites with the internal\nstream, the spirit of the individual, and brings forth the great event.\nAs stated often before, these two streams run through all Homeric\npoetry.\n\nUlysses now makes his raft; the hero is also a ship-builder, being the\nself-sufficient man, equal to any emergency, in whom lie all\npossibilities. The boat, still quite primitive, is constructed before\nour eyes; It is the weapon for conquering Neptune, and prophesies\nnavigation. Calypso aids him in every way, she even supplies him with\ntools, the axe, the adze, the augur, which imply a more advanced state\nof civilization than has hitherto appeared in the Dark Island. Whence\ndid she obtain them? No special answer is given; hence we are thrown\nback upon a general answer. Calypso is the original wild state of\nnature; but her transformation has begun, she helps Ulysses in her new\ncharacter. These tools are themselves formed from nature into means for\nsubduing nature; the instrument of bronze in the hands of the\nwood-cutter is the master of the tree. At present Calypso is also such\nan instrument; she, the wild product of nature, is herself transformed\ninto a means for helping Ulysses conquer the mighty physical element\nbefore him; an implement she has become in the hand of the Gods for\nrestoring the heroic endurer, and hence she can emblematically hand him\nthese material implements, for they are one with her present spirit.\nIndeed we may carry the analogy one step further, turning it inwardly:\nCalypso, though once the inciter to sensuous desire, now helps the man\nput it away and flee from it; ethically she is converted into an\ninstrument against her former self. In like manner nature is turned\nagainst nature by the thinking artificer.\n\nAlso food and drink and raiment the Island Goddess furnishes for the\nvoyage; with rare skill she tells him how to direct his course by the\nstars; she is mistress over the winds, it seems, for she sends the\nright one to blow. Wonderful indeed is the change; all those forces of\nnature, formerly so hostile, have been transformed into helpers,\nCalypso herself being also transformed. Thus we catch the outlines of\nthe Fairy Tale or marvelous story, which tells, in a supernatural way,\nof man's mastery of the physical world, once so destructive, now so\nobedient.\n\nCloth for his sails she brought him, but we must recollect that she was\na weaver at the start of the story. At last Ulysses pushes his raft\ndown into the fair salt sea; Ogygia, the place of nature's luxuriance\nand delight, is left behind; he must quit the natural state, however\nparadisaical, and pass to the social order, to Ithaca, though the\nlatter be poor and rocky. Still we may well recall the fact that the\nisland and Calypso once saved Ulysses, when wrecked elsewhere, on\naccount of the slaughter done to the Oxen of the Sun; this wild spot\nfurnished him natural shelter, food, gratification; nay, it gave him\nlove.\n\nTo be sure, the other side is not to be forgotten: it had to be\ntranscended, when it kept him away from the higher institutional life.\nUlysses, the wonderful, limit-transcending spirit, unfolds within even\nwhile caught in this wild jungle; he evolves out of it, as man has\nevolved out of it, thus he hints the movement of his race, which has to\nquit a cave-life and a mere sensuous existence. Such is the decree of\nthe Gods, for all time: the man must abandon Calypso, who is herself to\nbe transformed into an instrument of his progress.\n\nWe may now begin to see what Calypso means, in outline at least. The\ndifficulty of comprehending her lies in her twofold character: at one\ntime she is nature, then she is the helper against nature. But just\ntherein is her movement, her development. She is Goddess of this\nIsland, where she rules; but she is a lesser deity who has to be\nsubordinated to the Olympians, as nature must be put under spirit. The\nGreek deified nature, not being able to diabolize it; still he knew\nthat it must be ruled and transmuted by mind. Thus Calypso is a\nGoddess, inferior, confined to one locality, but having sensuous beauty\nas nature has. She, without ethical content, as purely physical, stands\nin the way of institutions, notably the Family; she seduces the man,\nand holds him by his senses, by his passion, till he rise out of her\nsway. On this side her significance is plain: she is the female\nprinciple which stands between Ulysses and his wedded wife, she not\nbeing wedded. Thus she is an embodiment of nature, from the external\nlandscape in which she is set, to internal impulse, to the element of\nsex. So it comes that she is represented as a beautiful woman, but\nbeauty without its ethical content can no longer chain Ulysses. That\ncharm is broken, in spite of passing relapses.\n\nThen comes the other side of Calypso's character, as already indicated:\nshe changes, she turns and helps Ulysses put down herself and get away\nfrom her world, furnishing him quite all the means for his voyage. Not\nwithout a certain regret and parting display of her charms does she do\nthis; still the change is real, and at the last stage we must imagine a\nCalypso transformed or partially so.\n\nThe enchantress on her magic island is a favorite theme with the Fairy\nTale, and the situation in itself rouses curiosity and wonder. The bit\nof land floating on the sea in appearance, yet withstanding wave and\ntempest, is, to the sailor, the home of supernatural beings. The story\nof Calypso has the tinge of nautical fancy. In like manner the story of\nRobinson Crusoe is that of a sea-faring people. We see in it the\nship-wrecked man, the lone island, the struggle with nature for food\nand shelter. But Defoe has no supernatural realm playing into his\nnarrative--no beautiful nymph, no Olympian Gods. That twofold Homeric\nconception of an Upper and Lower World, of a human and divine element\nin the great experience, is lost; the Englishman is practical,\nrealistic, utilitarian even in his pious observations, which he flings\ninto his text from the outside at given intervals.\n\nOgygia, the abode of Calypso, means the Dark Island, upon which Ulysses\nis cast after the destruction of the Oxen of the Sun. Calypso, in\nharmony with the name of her abode, signifies the concealer--and that\nis what has happened to Ulysses, his light is hidden. She is the\ndaughter of Atlas, who has two mental traits assigned to him; he is\nevil-minded and he knows all the depths of the sea. A demonic being\nendowed with his dark knowledge of things out of sight; he has a third\ntrait also, \"he upholds of himself the long pillars which keep Heaven\nand Earth apart\" (Book I. 53). Naturally under such a burden he is not\nin good humor. Calypso is the daughter who, along with her grot, may be\nconceived to have risen out of the obscure depths of the sea, with\nsomething of her father's disposition. Doubtless Greek sailors could\nbehold in her image the dangerous rocks which lurked unseen beneath the\nwaters around her island. The comparative mythologist finds in her tale\nthe clouds obscuring or concealing the Sun (here Ulysses) till the\nluminary breaks out of his concealment and shines in native glory.\nSomething of truth lies in these various views, but the fundamental\nmeaning is not physical, but ethical.\n\n\nII.\n\nWe now come to the great physical obstacle standing in the way of the\nReturn of Ulysses, the sea, which, however, has always its divine side\nto the Greek mind. A series of water-deities will rise before us out of\nthis mighty element, assuming various attitudes toward the solitary\nvoyager. Three of them, showing themselves as hostile (Neptune), as\nhelpful (Ino Leucothea), as saving (the River-God); all three too seem\nin a kind of gradation, from the vast total sea, through one of its\nphases, to the small stream pouring into the sea from the land. Thus\nthe Greek imagination, playing with water, deified the various\nappearances thereof, specially in their relation to man. The\nintroduction of these three marine divinities naturally organizes this\nsecond part of the Fifth Book into three phases or stages. Such is the\ndivine side now to be witnessed.\n\nParallel to this runs the human side, represented by the lone hero\nUlysses, who is passing through a fearful ordeal of danger with its\nattendant emotions of anxiety, terror, hope, despair. A very hard test\nis surely here applied to weak mortal flesh. We shall observe that he\npasses through a series of mental perturbations at each divine\nappearance; he runs up and down a scale of doubt, complaint,\nresolution. His weakness he will show, yet also his strength;\ndubitation yet faith; he will hesitate, yet finally act. Thus he saves\nhimself at last through his own will, yet certainly with the help of\nthe Gods; for both sides have to co-operate to bring about the heroic\nact of his deliverance.\n\nPallas also comes to the aid of her favorite, but in an indirect\nmanner. The sea does not seem to be her element. She stops the winds\nand \"informs his mind with forecast,\" but she does not personally\nappear and speak, nor is she addressed, as is the case with the\nwater-gods. She plays in by the way in this marine emergency; her\nappearances now do not organize the action. But the three appearances\nof the water-gods are the organic principle, their element being at\npresent the scene of the adventure. On these lines we shall note the\ncourse of the poem in some detail.\n\n1. Neptune returning from the Ethiopians to Hellas, sees the lone\nsailor with his little craft from the heights of the mountain called\nSolyma; at once the God's wrath is roused and he talks to himself,\n\"shaking his head.\" The clouds, the winds, the ocean obeyed his behest,\nand fell upon the voyager in a furious tempest. A huge billow whirled\nthe raft around and threw Ulysses off into the deep; with difficulty be\nregained his place, and escaped death.\n\nA vivid picture of the grand obstacle to early navigation, of which\nNeptune is the embodiment. Why should he not be angry at the man who\nseeks to tame him? The raft means his ultimate subjection. Nature\nresists the hand which subdues her at first, and then gracefully\nyields. To be sure there had to be a mythical ground for Neptune's\nanger at Ulysses: the latter had put out the eye of his son, the\nCyclops Polyphemus, which was another phase of the subjection of wild\nnature to intelligence. For seventeen days Ulysses had easy sailing,\nguided by the stars; but the sea has its destructive side which must\nalso be experienced by the much-enduring man.\n\nCorresponding to this outer tempest, we observe an inner tempest in the\nsoul of Ulysses. \"O me wretched! what is now to happen to me!\" Terror\nunmans him for the time being; regret weakens him: \"Thrice happy, four\ntimes happy the Greeks who fell on Troy's broad plain!\" Thus he goes\nback in memory to his heroic epoch and wishes for death then. Too late\nit is, for while he is lamenting, a wave strikes him and tosses him out\ninto the deep; now he has to act, and this need of action saves him\nfrom his internal trituration, as well as from external death.\n\nWith this renewed energy of the will, a new help appears, a divine aid\nfrom the sea. For without his own strong effort, no God can rescue him,\nhowever powerful. That toss out into the waves was not without its\nblessing.\n\n2. Ino Leucothea, Ino the white Goddess, beholds him with pity in his\nextremity--she was once mortal herself but now is divine. Her function\nseems to be to help the shipwrecked mariner; her name reminds the\nreader of the white calm of the sea, elsewhere celebrated by Homer\n(Book X, 94; Nitzsch's observation). Thus she appears to represent the\npeaceful placid mood of the marine element, which rises in the midst of\nthe storm and imparts hope and courage, nay predicts safety. She gives\nher veil to Ulysses, in which commentators trace a suggestion of the\nfillet or sacred cloth which was given out from a temple in Samothrace,\nand had the power of saving the endangered mariner, if he had tied it\nround his body. As it is here employed, it strangely suggests a\nlife-preserver. At any rate Ino is the calming power opposed to angry\nNeptune, and she works upon both the waters and the man.\n\n\"Ill-fated man,\" she cries, \"why hast thou so angered Neptune?\" Then\nshe changes her note: \"Still he shall not destroy thee, however much he\ndesires.\" She bids him give up his raft to the anger of Neptune, throw\naway his clinging wet garments of Calypso, and swim to the land of the\nPhaeacians. Then she hands him the veil which he is to \"bind beneath his\nbreast,\" and, when he has reached land, he is to throw it back into the\nsea. A ritual of some kind, symbolic acts we feel these to be, though\ntheir exact meaning may be doubtful. Ino, \"the daughter of Cadmus,\" is\nsupposed to have been a Phoenician Goddess originally, and to have\nbeen transferred to the Greek sailor, just as his navigation came to\nhim, partly at least, from the Phoenicians. If he girded himself with\nthe consecrated veil of Leucothea, the Goddess of the calm, Neptune\nhimself in wrath could not sink him.\n\nSuch was the faith required of Ulysses, but now comes the internal\ncounterstroke: his skepticism. \"Ah me! what if some God is planning\nanother fraud against me, bidding me quit my raft!\" The doubter refuses\nto obey and clings to his raft. But the waves make short work of it\nnow, and Ulysses by sheer necessity has to do as the Goddess bade him;\n\"with hands outspread he plunged into the sea,\" the veil being\nunderneath him. When he quits his raft, and is seen in the water,\nNeptune dismisses him from view with a parting execration, and Pallas\nbegins to help him, not openly, but indirectly.\n\nIn such manner the great doubter is getting toward shore, but even here\nhis doubts cease not. Steep jutting cliffs may not permit him to land,\nthe billows may dash him to death on the sharp shoaly rocks, or carry\nhim out again to sea, or some huge monster of the deep may snap him up\nin its jaws; thus he is dashed about internally, on the billows of\ndoubt. But this grinding within is stopped by the grinding he gets\nwithout; a mighty surge overwhelms him, he clutches a rock and saves\nhimself, but leaves flakes of flesh from his hands behind on the rock.\n\"He swam along the coast and eyed it well,\" he even reaches the mouth\nof a soft-flowing river, where was a smooth beach and a shelter from\nthe wind. Here is the spot so long desired, here then he passes to an\nact of faith, he prays to the river which becomes at once to the Greek\nimagination a God.\n\n3. This brings us to the third water deity, and we observe a kind of\nscale from the universal one, Neptune, down to a local one, that of the\nriver. The middle one, Ino, is the humane kindly phase of the great\ndeep, showing her kinship with man; Neptune was the ruder god of the\nphysical sea, and, to the Homeric Greek, the most powerful and natural.\nNo wonder that he was angry at that little raft and its builder; it\nmeant his ultimate subjection.\n\nThe prayer of Ulysses to the River-God is, on the whole, the finest\npassage in the present Book. It shows him now a man of faith, humbled\nthough he be to the last degree of misery: \"Hear me, ruler, whoever\nthou art, I approach thee much-besought. The deathless Gods revere the\nprayer of him who comes to them and asks for mercy, as I now come to\nthy stream. Pity, ruler, me thy suppliant.\" Certainly a lofty\nrecognition of the true nature of deity; no wonder that the River\nstayed his current, smoothed the waves and made a calm before him. Such\na view of the Gods reveals to us the inner depths of the Hero's\ncharacter; it calls to mind that speech of Phoenix in the Iliad (Book\nNinth) where he says that the Gods are placable. As soon as Ulysses\nmakes this utterance from his heart, he is saved, the Divine Order is\nadjusted to his prayer, he having of course put himself into harmony\nwith the same. He has no longer any need of the protecting veil of the\nsea-goddess Ino, having escaped from the angry element, and obtained\nthe help of the new deity belonging to the place. He restores the veil\nto the Goddess according to her request, in which symbolic act we may\npossibly read a consecration of the object which had saved him, as well\nas a recognition of the deity: \"This veil of salvation belongs not to\nme, but to the Goddess.\" Not of his strength alone was he saved from\nthe waves.\n\nSuch is one side of Ulysses, that of faith, of the manifestation of the\ngodlike in man, especially when he is in the very pinch of destruction.\nBut Ulysses would not be Ulysses, unless he showed the other side too,\nthat of unfaith, weak complaint, and temporary irresolution. So, when\nhe is safe on the bank of the stream, he begins to cry out: \"What now\nam I to suffer more! If I try to sleep on this river's brink for the\nnight, the frost and dew and wind will kill me; and if I climb this\nhill to yonder thicket, I fear a savage beast will eat me while I\nslumber.\" It is well to be careful, O Ulysses, in these wild solitudes;\nnow let the petulant outburst just given, be preparatory to an act of\nwill which will settle the problem. \"He rose and went to the wood near\nby; he crept under two bushes that grew from the same place, one the\nwild and the other the tame olive.\" There in a heap of leaves--man's\nfirst bed--he slept under the intertwined branches of the two\nolives--nature's shelter against wind, rain, sun. He, with all his\ncultivation is quite reduced to the condition of the primitive man.\n\nOne cannot help feeling a symbolic intention in these two olive trees,\none wild and one cultivated. They represent in a degree the two phases\nof the man sleeping under them; they hint also the transition which he\nis making from the untamed nature of Calypso's island to the more\ncivilized land of Phaeacia. The whole Book is indeed the movement to a\nnew life and a new country. We might carry out the symbolic hint much\nfurther on these lines, and see a meaning in their interwoven branches\nand the protection they are giving at present; but the poetic\nsuggestion flashing afar over poem backwards and forwards is the true\neffect, and may be dimmed by too much explanation.\n\nSuch is this marvelous storm with its ship-wreck, probably the first in\nliterature, but often made use of since. The outer surges of the\ntempest are indeed terrific; but the main interest is, that along with\nthis external description of the storm, we witness the corresponding\ninternal heaving and tossing of a human soul. Everywhere we notice that\nUlysses doubts at first, doubts Calypso, doubts Ino, doubts even his\nfinal safety when on land. He is the skeptical man, he never fails to\ncall up the possibilities on the other side. Though a God give the\npromise, he knows that there are other Gods who do not promise, or may\ngive a different promise to somebody else. It is the experience of\nlife, this touch of doubt at first; it always accompanies the thinking\nman, who, like Ulysses, must be aware of a negative counterpart even to\ntruth. Not pleasant, but painful is this doubt shooting through the\nsoul, and keeping it in distress and often in lamentation. So even the\nHero breaks out into unmanly complaint, and reveals to the full his\nfinite nature.\n\nYet if Ulysses doubts, he always overcomes his doubt in the end; he\nsees the positive element in the world to be deeper than the negative\none, after a little access of weakness. Under his doubt is the deeper\nlayer of faith, so he never gives up, but valiantly holds on and\nconquers. The Gods come to his aid when he believes and acts. His\nintellect is doubt, his will is faith: wherein we may trace important\nlines which unite him with Faust, the chief character in our last\nworld-poem. Ulysses will complain, and having freed his mind, will go\nto work and conquer the obstacle. He struggles with the billow,\nclinging to the mast, though he had just said: \"Now I shall die a\nmiserable death.\"\n\nParallel to this human side runs the divine side, which we need not\nfurther describe here, with its three water-deities. A little attention\nwe may give to the part of Pallas. At one time she seems to control the\nouter world for her favorite, sending the wind or stopping it; then she\nis said to inform his mind with forecast, that he may do the thing in\nspite of wind or other obstacle; finally he often does the deed without\nany divine suggestion, acting through himself. In these stages we can\nsee a transition of the Mythus. The first stage is truly mythical, in\nwhich the deity is the mover, the second is less so, the Goddess having\nbecome almost wholly internal; in the third stage the mythical is lost.\nAll these stages are in Homer and in this Book, though the first is\nstill paramount.\n\nTaking into view the general character of the mythical movement of this\nFifth Book, we observe that there is a rise in it from a lower to a\nhigher form; Calypso and Neptune are intimately blended with their\nphysical environments, the island and the sea. Though elevated into\npersons, they are still sunk in Nature; it is the function of the Hero,\nespecially the wise man, to subordinate both or to transcend both:\nwhich is just what Ulysses has done. His Mythus is, therefore, a higher\none, telling the story of the subjection of nature and of her Gods.\nThis story marks one phase of his career.\n\nThe reader will probably be impressed with the fact that in the present\nBook the stress is upon the discipline of the will. The inner reactions\nof complaint, doubt, or despair turn against the deed, to which Ulysses\nhas to nerve himself by a supreme act of volition. The world of Calypso\nis that of self-indulgence, inactivity, will-lessness, to which Ulysses\nhas sunk after his sin against the source of light, after his negation\nof all intelligence. It is not simply sensuous gratification with the\nmind still whole and capable of resolution, as was the case with\nUlysses in the realm of Circe, in which he shows his will-power, though\ncoupled with indulgence. Such is the difference between Calypso and\nCirce, which is always a problem with the reader. In this way, too, we\nsee how the Fifth Book before us is a direct continuation and unfolding\nout of the Twelfth Book. Indeed the very movement of the poem is\nsignificant, which is a going backwards; so Ulysses drops far to the\nrear out of that light-loving Island of the Sun, against which is his\nviolation, when he comes to Ogygia.\n\nBut Ulysses has now, after long discipline, transcended this sphere,\nand has reached a new land, of which the account is to follow next.\n\n\n\n\n_BOOK SIXTH._\n\n\nWe are now to make one of the chief transitions of the poem, we are\ngoing to pass from the Dark Island and the stormy sea to Phaeacia, a\nbright, sunlit land, where reign peace and harmony. Moreover, we move\nout of the realm of nature to that of institutions. Still more\nsignificant are the central figures of the two localities, both women;\none of these we have seen, Calypso, who is now to give way to Nausicaa.\n\nThis Book may, therefore, be called Nausicaa's Book, as she is the\nleading character in it, imparting to it a marvelous mood of idyllic\nbeauty and womanly purity. She is the person chosen by the poet to\nintroduce the Hero into the new realm, Phaeacia, being in sharp contrast\nto Calypso, who detained Ulysses in dark Ogygia away from his family,\nand whose character was adverse to the domestic relation. But Nausicaa\nshows from the start the primal instinct of the true woman for the\nhome. She is still young, but she has arrived at that age in which she\nlongs with every throb of her heart to surrender her own separate\nexistence, and to unite it with another. She manifests in all its\nattractiveness the primordial love of the woman for the Family, basis\nof all institutional life, as well as fountain of the deepest joys of\nour terrestrial sojourn.\n\nOn this account she represents the place of Phaeacia in the Greek world\nas well as in the present poem; perhaps we ought to add, in the whole\nmovement of civilization. That land may be called the idyllic one, a\nland of peace and of freedom from all struggle; the borderland between\nthe natural and the civilized spheres. Man has risen out of the\ngrossness of mere sensuous individualism, such as we see in Polyphemus\nand in other shapes of Fairyland; but he has not yet reached the\nconflicts of higher forms of society resulting from a pursuit of\nwealth, from ambition, from war. Here is a quiet half-way house on the\nroad from nature to civilization; a sweet reposeful realm, almost\nwithout any development of the negative forces of society; a temporary\nstopping-place for Ulysses in his all-embracing career, also for\nindividuals and nations in their rush forward to reach the great end.\nThe deep collisions of social life belong not to Phaeacia, nor to\nNausicaa, its ideal image.\n\nIt is the virgin land, the virgin world, which now has a young virgin\nas its central character and representative, to mediate Ulysses with\nitself, the universal man who must also have the new experience. Still\nshe is not all of Phaeacia, but its prelude, its introductory form;\nmoreover, she is just the person to conduct Ulysses out of his present\nforlorn condition of mind and body into a young fresh hope, into a new\nworld. The Calypso life is to be obliterated by the vision of the true\nwoman and her instinctive devotion to the Family. We are aware that\nUlysses has not been contented with the Dark Island and its nymph, he\nhas had the longing to get away and has at last gotten away; but to\nwhat has he come? Lost the one and not attained the other, till he\nbeholds Nausicaa, who grasps him by the hand, as it were, and delivers\nhim wholly from Calypso, leading him forth to her home, where he is to\nwitness the central phase of domestic life, the mother.\n\nThe organism of the Book easily falls into two parts, one of which\nportrays Nausicaa at home, the other gives the meeting between her and\nUlysses. Yet over this human movement hovers always the divine, Pallas\nis the active supernal power which brings these events to pass,\nintroducing both the parts mentioned. She is the providence which the\npoet never permits to drop out. Most deeply does the old singer's\nsincerity herein move the reader, who must rise to the same elevation;\nHomer's loyalty is to faith, faith in the Divine Order of the World,\nfor this is not suffered to go its way without a master spirit; the\nindividual, especially in his pivotal action, is never left alone, but\nhe fits in somewhere; the Whole takes him up and directs him, and\nadjusts him into the providential plan; not simply from without but\nthrough himself. Such is this poet's loyalty to his Idea; he has faith,\ndeep, genuine faith, yet unostentatious, quite unconventional at times;\na most refreshing, yes, edifying appearance to-day, even for religious\npeople, though he be \"an old heathen.\"\n\nSuch continual recurrence of the God's interference with the course of\nevents--what does it mean? This is unquestionably the fundamental\nproblem with the earnest student of Homer. Let us observe, then, first,\nthat the poet's principle is not to allow a divine intervention to\ndegenerate into a merely external mechanical act; himself full of the\nspirit of the God, he puts the divine influence inside the individual\nas well as outside, and thus preserves the latter's freedom in the\nprovidential order. The faithful reader will never let these movements\nof the deity drop into mere machinery; when he does, he has lost the\nessence of Homer. Doubtless it requires an alert activity of mind to\nhold the Gods always before the vision in their truth; they must be\nre-thought, or indeed re-created every time they appear. The\nsomnolescent reader is only too ready to spare himself the poetic\nexaltation in which the old bard must be read, if we would really see\nthe divinities, and grasp the spirit of their dealings with man. Speak\nnot, then, of epical machinery in Homer, the word is misleading to the\nlast degree, is indeed libellous, belieing the poet in the very soul of\nhis art.\n\nIn the present Book there is not by any means as much divine\nintervention as in the preceding one; we pass from the lower realm of\nthe water-gods to that of Pallas, the goddess of intelligence, who is\nthe sole active divinity in this Book. She appears to Nausicaa at the\nbeginning in the form of a dream, and bids the maiden look after some\nwashing. Our first question is, why call in a goddess for such a\npurpose? The procedure seems trivial and unnecessary, and so it would\nbe under ordinary circumstances. But through this humble and\ncommon-place duty Nausicaa is made a link in the grand chain of the\nReturn of Ulysses, which is the divine plan underlying the whole poem,\nand is specially the work of Pallas. To be sure this had no place in\nNausicaa's intention, but it does have a place in the providential\nscheme, which has, therefore, to be voiced by the Goddess. Yet that\nscheme does not conflict with the free-will of the maiden, which finds\nits fullest scope just in this household duty, and brings out her\ncharacter. She reveals to Ulysses her nature, this is the occasion; she\nhad to be free to represent what she truly was to the much-experienced\nman. An ordinary wash-day has little divinity in it, but this one is\nfilled with the divine plan. Thus small events, otherwise immediately\nforgotten, may by a mighty co-incidence he elevated into the sphere of\nthe World's History, and become ever memorable. That French soldier who\nthrew a camp-kettle over the head of Mirabeau's ancestor and thus saved\nhim from being trampled to death by a passing troop of cavalry, made\nhimself a factor in the French Revolution, and was inspired by whom,\ndemon or angel?\n\nAs already hinted, the structure of the Book is determined by the two\ninterventions of Pallas, which divide it into two portions; these are\nshown in the following outline:--\n\nI.  (1.) Pallas appears to Nausicaa in a dream, and gives the\n         suggestion.\n\n    (2.) Nausicaa, when she awakes, obeys the suggestion and\n         proceeds to the place of the washing.\n\nII. (1.) Ulysses also asleep, lies in his cover not far from the\n         same spot, when Pallas starts the plan for his waking.\n\n    (2.) Meeting of Ulysses and Nausicaa, and the going to the city.\n\nIn both parts we observe the same general method; the divine influence,\nbeginning above, moves below and weaves the mortal into its scheme\nthrough his own action.\n\n\nI.\n\nFirst is a short introduction giving a bit of the history of the\nPhaeacians, in which we catch a glimpse of their development. They once\ndwelt near the Cyclops, the wild men of nature, from whom they moved\naway on account of injuries received; they could live no longer in such\na neighborhood. Here we note an important separation, probably a change\nof life which leaves the ruder stage behind. The colony is led forth to\na new land by its hero, who lays the foundation of a social order by\nbuilding houses, temples to the Gods, and a wall round the city, and\nwho divides the territory. Thus a civil polity begins by getting away\nfrom \"the insolent Cyclops\" or savages. On the other hand, civilized\nenemies who might bring war, seem not to dwell near the Phaeacians,\nbeloved of the Gods. Beyond all conflict, inner and outer, lies the\nfortunate realm; it touches the happy mean between barbarism and\ncivilization, though perchance on the road from former to latter; at\npresent, however, it is without the evils which go before it and come\nafter it. As already stated, it is an idyllic world, life appears to be\none continued festival, with song and dance of youth. It is not real\nGreece, not Ithaca, which just now is a land of discord and conflict.\nWhat the poet says of Olympus in a famous passage a little further on\nin this book, seems applicable, in spirit at least, to Phaeacia:\n\n    The storm-wind shakes it not, nor is it wet\n    By showers, and there the snow doth never fall;\n    The calm clear ether is without a cloud,\n    And over all is spread a soft white sheen.\n\n1. Now comes the appearance of Pallas, who \"like a breath of wind\"\napproaches the couch of the maiden in slumber, and admonishes her about\nthe washing. Some such care the Goddess does impose upon the\nhousekeeper to this day, and if report be true, at times troubles her\ndreams. It is indeed an important duty, this necessity of keeping the\nhousehold and its members clean, specially the men, too often\nindifferent. Young Nausicaa, just entering upon womanhood, is ready for\nthe divine suggestion; plainly she has come to that age at which the\nGoddess must speak to her on such matters. So much for Pallas at\npresent.\n\n2. Therewith we touch another fact; the maiden has reached the time\nwhen she must think, of marriage, which she instinctively regards as\nher true destiny in life. Still it does not appear that she is\nbetrothed though \"the noblest Phaeacians are wooing thee.\" In simple\ninnocence there hovers in her mind the thought of Family, yet she shows\na shy reserve even before her father. With that sweet thought is joined\nthe primary household care, which naturally enough comes to her in a\ndream. Cleanliness is next to godliness is our modern saying; it is\ncertainly the outward visible token of purity, which Nausicaa is going\nto bring into her domestic surroundings. We may reasonably think that\nin the present scene the external deed and the internal character\nmirror each other.\n\nIt must be confessed, however, that to the modern woman wash-day, \"blue\nMonday,\" is usually a day bringing an unpleasant mood, if not positive\nterror. She will often declare that she cannot enjoy this Phaeacian idyl\non account of its associations; she refuses to accept in image what in\nreal life is so disagreeable. As a symbol of purification the thing may\npass, but no human being wishes to be purified too often. Nausicaa's\noccupation is not popular with her sex, and she herself has not\naltogether escaped from a tinge of disrelish.\n\nIt is curious to note how customs endure. What Homer saw, the traveler\nin Greece will see to-day wherever a stream runs near a village. The\nNausicaas of the place, daughters and mothers too, will be found at the\nwater's side, going through this same Phaeacian process, themselves in\nwhite garments even at their labor, pounding, rubbing, rinsing the\nwhite garments of their husbands, brothers, sons. Not without sympathy\nwill the by-stander look on, thinking that those efforts are to make\nclean themselves and their household, life being in truth a continual\ncleansing for every human soul. So Hellas has still the appearance of\nan eternal wash-day. (See author's _Walk in Hellas, passim_.)\n\nNausicaa obtains without difficulty wagon and mules and help of\nservants. After all, the affair is something of a frolic or outing;\nwhen the task is done, there is the bath, the song, and a game of ball.\nIt is worthy of notice that the word (_amaxa_) here used by old Homer\nfor _wagon_, may still be heard throughout Greece for the same or a\nsimilar thing. In the harbor of Piraeus the hackman will ask the\ntraveler: \"Do you want my _amaxa_?\" The dance (_choros_), is still the\nchief amusement of the Greek villagers, and, as in Nausicaa's time, the\nyoung man wishes to enter the dance with new-washed garments, white as\nsnow, whose folds ripple around his body in harmony with his graceful\nmovements. Many an echo of Phaeacia, in language, custom and costume,\ncan be found in Greece at present, indicating, like the Cyclopean\nmasonry, the solid and permanent substructure of Homer's poetry, still\nin place after more than 2500 years of wear and tear.\n\n\nII.\n\nThe washing is done now, the sport is over, and the party is getting\nready to go home; but the main object is not yet accomplished. Ulysses\nand Nausicaa are here to be brought together--the much-experienced man\nand the innocent maiden with her pure ethical instinct of Family. In\nmany ways the two stand far asunder, yet in one thing they are alike:\neach is seeking the domestic relation, each will consummate the bond of\nlove which has two phases, the one being after marriage and the other\nbefore marriage. Both are moving in their deepest nature toward the\nunity of the Family, though on different lines; Ulysses and Nausicaa\nhave a common trait of character, which will be sympathetically found\nby each and will bring them together.\n\nI. At this fresh turn of affairs there is an intervention of Pallas,\nnot prolonged, but sufficient: \"Thereupon Athena (Pallas) planned other\nthings, that Ulysses should wake, and see the fair-faced maiden who\nwould conduct him to the city of the Phaeacians.\" The Goddess does not\nappear in person, as the deities so often do in the Iliad, nor does she\ntake a mortal shape, or move Ulysses through a dream; she simply brings\nabout an incident, natural enough, to wake the sleeping hero. Why then\nintroduce the Goddess at all? Because the poet wishes to emphasize the\nfact that this simple incident is a link in the providential chain;\notherwise it would have no mention. The ball is thrown at one of the\nservants, it falls into the stream, whereat there is an outcry--and\nUlysses wakes.\n\nOf course, the latter had at first his usual fit of doubt and\ncomplaint, just when the Gods are helping him: \"Ah me! to what land\nhave I come! What men are here--wild, insolent, unjust, or are they\nhospitable, reverencing the Gods? I shall go forth and test the\nmatter\"--and so by an act of will he rescues himself from inner\nbrooding and finds out the truth.\n\n2. Now we are to witness the gradual outer approach between Ulysses and\nNausicaa, till it becomes internal, and ends in a strong feeling of\nfriendship if not in a warmer emotion. The wanderer, almost naked, with\nonly \"a branch of thick leaves bound about his loins,\" comes forth from\nhis hiding place, a frightful object to anybody, a wild man apparently.\n\nAll the servants run, but Nausicaa stands her ground before the nude\nmonster; being a Princess she shows her noble blood, and, being\ninnocent herself, what can she he afraid of? Thus does the poet\ndistinguish her spiritually among her attendants, as a few lines before\nin the famous comparison with Diana he distinguished her physically:\n\"Over all the rest are seen her head and brow, easily is she known\namong them, though all are fair: such was the spotless virgin mid her\nmaids.\" Thus is hinted the outer and also the inner superiority which\nhas now revealed itself in the Phaeacian Princess.\n\nHenceforth a subtle interplay takes place between her and Ulysses, in\nwhich we observe three main stages: First, the wild man in appearance\nhe steps forth, yet he succeeds in touching her sympathy, wherein her\ncharity is shown; Second, the transformed man, now a God in appearance\nhe becomes, at whose view the maiden begins to show deep admiration, if\nnot love; Third, the passing of Ulysses to the city to which he is\nconducted by the maiden, who also tells him how to reach the heart of\nthe family, namely, the mother Arete. Thus she seeks to mediate him\nwith her country and her hearth.\n\n(1) Ulysses, issuing from his lair, addresses her in a speech which\nshows superb skill on account of its gradual penetration to the soul of\nthe fair hearer. He praises first her external beauty with many a happy\ntouch, yet with an excess which seems to border on adulation. This\nreaches her outer ear and bespeaks his good-will and gentleness at\nleast. Then he strikes a deeper chord: he mentions his sufferings,\nthose which are past, and forebodes those which are yet to be,\nperchance upon this shore. \"Therefore, O Princess, have compassion,\nsince I have come to thee first; none besides thee do I know in this\nland. Give me some old rag to throw around me, some useless wrappage\nwhich you may have brought hither.\" Pathetic indeed is the appeal;\ntherewith comes sympathy, the man is no wild Cyclops, whom all\nPhaeacians still remembered with terror, but a victim of misfortune.\n\nNow comes the culmination of his speech, which shows his keen insight\ninto human nature, as well as his own deepest longing: \"May the Gods\ngrant thy heart's desire---husband, home, and wedded harmony.\" With\nthis praise of domestic life upon his lips he has touched the\nprofoundest chord of her heart; he has divined her secretest yet\nstrongest instinct, and has appealed to it in deep emotion. Yet mark!\nin the same general direction lies his own dearest hope: he also will\nreturn home, to wife and family. Thus he has found the common\nmeeting-place of their souls; the two strike the absolutely concordant\nnote and are one in feeling--he the husband, she the maiden.\n\nIn her answer she expresses her strong sympathy, her words indeed rise\ninto the realm of charity. It is no mark of baseness to be unfortunate;\n\"but these must endure,\" what Zeus lays upon them. Such is the\nexhortation of the young maiden to the much-enduring man; she has\ndivined too the ground-work of his character. \"But now, since thou hast\ncome to our land, thou shalt not want for garment or anything else\nproper for the needy suppliant.\" Then she recalls her attendants,\nreproving them for their flight, and orders them to give to Ulysses\nfood and drink, oil to be used after bathing, and ample raiment. Nor\nshould we pass by that other expression of hers: \"all strangers and the\npoor are Jove's own,\" under the special protection of the Supreme God,\nwho will avenge their disregard. Such is this ideal world of Phaeacia,\nstill ideal to-day; for where is it realized? The old poet has cast the\nimago of a society which we are still trying to embody. Well can she\nsay that the Phaeacians dwell far apart from the rest of the nations,\n\"nor does any mortal hold intercourse with us.\" Thus, too, she marks\nunconsciously the limit of her people.\n\n(2) The reader, along with Nausicaa, is to see the transformation of\nthe beggarly wanderer, who, having taken his bath and put on his\nraiment, comes forth like a God. This is said to be the work of Pallas,\n\"who caused him to appear taller and more powerful, with flowing locks,\nlike the hyacinth.\" He becomes plastic in form, beautiful as a statue,\ninto which the divine soul has been transfused by the artist. Such a\ntransforming power lies within him, yet is granted also by a deity; the\ngodlike in the man now takes on a bodily, or rather a sculpturesque\nappearance, and prophesies Greek plastic art.\n\nThe echo of this change is heard in the words of the maiden: \"Hear me\nattendants; not without the will of the Olympians does this man come to\nus; lately I thought him unseemly, now he is like the Gods who hold the\nbroad Heavens.\" Such is her lively admiration now, but what means this?\n\"Would that such a man might be called my husband, dwelling here in\nPhaeacia!\" That note is indeed deeper than admiration.\n\n(3) The third phase of this little play is the bringing of Ulysses to\nthe city and home of Nausicaa. He, having satisfied his hunger, and\nbeing ready to start, receives some advice from the maiden, who seeks\nto conduct him at once to the center of the home. They will pass first\nthrough the outlying country, which shows cultivation; then they will\ngo up into the city, with its lofty tower and double harbor; the\nseafaring character of the people is especially set forth by Nausicaa,\nwhose name is derived from the Greek word for a ship. Particularly we\nmust notice her fear of gossip, which also existed in Phaeacia, ideal\nthough the land was. She must not be seen with Ulysses; men with evil\ntongues would say: \"What stranger is this following Nausicaa? Now she\nwill have a husband.\" The sharp eye of Goethe detected in this passage\nthe true motive; it is love, always having the tendency to deny itself,\nwhich dictates so carefully this avoidance of public report; the thing\nmust not be said just because there is good reason for saying it. Her\nsolicitude betrays her feeling. In pure simplicity of heart she pays\nthe supreme compliment to Ulysses, likening him indirectly to \"a God\ncalled down from Heaven by her prayers, to live with her all her days.\"\nStill further she intimates in the same passage, that \"many noble\nsuitors woo her, but she treats them with disdain, they are Phaeacians.\"\nTo be sure she puts these words into the mouth of a gossipy and\nsomewhat disgruntled countryman, but they come round to their mark like\na boomerang. Does she not thus announce to the much-enduring man that\nshe is free, though under a good deal of pressure? All this is done in\nsuch an artless way, that it becomes the highest art--something which\nshe does not intend but cannot help. Surely such a speech from such a\nsource ought to repay him for suffering shipwreck and for ten years'\nwandering.\n\nWe cannot, therefore, think of calling this passage spurious, with some\ncritics both ancient and modern. The complaint against it is that the\nyoung Phaeacian lady shows here too much reflection, in conjunction with\na tendency to sarcasm foreign to her life. But we find it eminently\nunreflective and naive; the very point of the passage is that she\nunconsciously reveals the deepest hidden thought and purpose of her\nheart to Ulysses. With all her being she must move toward the Family,\nshe would not be herself unless she did; yet how completely she\npreserves modesty and simple-heartedness! Nor is the sarcastic tinge\nforeign to young girls. So we shall have to set aside the objections of\nAristarchus the old Greek, and Faesi the modern German, commentator.\n\nBut the final instruction of Nausicaa is the most interesting; the\nsuppliant is not to go to the father but to the mother. Nay, he is to\n\"pass by my father's throne and clasp my mother's knees,\" in token of\nsupplication; then he may see the day of return. Herein we may behold\nin general, the honored place of the mother as the center of the\nFamily, its heart, as it were, full of the tender feelings of\ncompassion and mercy. In the father and king, on the other hand, is the\nman of the State with its inflexible justice, often putting aside\nsympathy and commiseration with misfortune. The woman's heart may\nindeed be called the heart of the world, recognized here by the old\npoet and his Phaeacians.\n\nThis mother, however, is in herself a great character; she is next to\nhave a Book of her own, which will more fully set forth her position.\n\nThe character of Nausicaa, as here unfolded in the ancient poet, has\ncaptivated many generations of readers since Homer began to be read.\nThe story has lived and renewed itself in manifold forms; it has that\nhighest power of a genuine mythus, it produces itself through all ages,\ntaking on a fresh vesture in Time. In old Hellas the tale of Nausicaa\nwas wrought over into various shapes after Homer; it was transformed\ninto a drama, love-story, as well as idyl. The myth-making spirit did\nnot let it drop, but kept unfolding it; later legend, for instance,\nbrought about a marriage between Telemachus and Nausicaa. Our recent\ngreatest poet, Goethe, also responded mightily to the story of\nNausicaa; he planned a drama on the subject, of which the outline is to\nbe found in his published works. He did not find time to finish his\npoem, but there is evidence that he thought much about it and carried\nit around with him, for a long period. One regrets that the German poet\nwas not able to give this new transformation of his ancient Greek\nbrother, with whom he has manifested on so many lines an intimate\nconnection and poetical kinship. In portions of the _Italian\nJourney_ specially we see how deeply the Odyssey was moving him and\nhow he was almost on the point of reproducing the whole poem with its\nmarine scenery. But Nausicaa in particular fascinated him, and it would\nhave been the best commentary on the present Book to have seen her in a\nnow grand poetic epiphany in the modern drama of Goethe.\n\n\n\n\n_BOOK SEVENTH._\n\n\nIf the last Book was Nausicaa's, this one is Arete's; there is the\ntransition from the daughter to the mother, from the maiden to the\nwife. Still it is not quite so emphatically a woman's Book, since the\nwife has to include the husband in her world. Ulysses now goes to the\ncenter of the Family, to its heart, that he may meet with compassion.\nStill she withholds her sympathy at first for a good reason; Arete is\nnot wholly impulse and feeling, she has thought, reflection. So, after\nall, it is left to the men to take up the suppliant.\n\nVery surprising to us moderns is the picture drawn by the old Greek\npoet of this woman, and of her position: \"the people look upon her as a\nGod when she goes through the city;\" her mind is especially praised;\nshe has a judicial character, supposed usually to be alien to women:\n\"she decides controversies among men,\" or perchance harmonizes them. To\nbe sure her position is stated as exceptional: \"her husband honors her,\nas no other woman on earth is honored;\" she is evidently his counselor\nas well as wife. Thus the poet would have us regard Arete not merely as\na person of kind feelings and of sweet womanly instincts, but she has\nalso the highest order of intelligence; she is united with her husband\nin head as well as in heart, perchance overtopping him in ability. Not\ndomestic simply is the picture, it rises into the political sphere,\neven into the administration of justice.\n\nIs the character of the woman, as thus set forth, possibly a thousand\nyears before Christ, by a heathen poet in an uncivilized age\ncomparatively, to be a prophecy unto us still at this late date?\nCertainly the most advanced woman of to-day in the most advanced part\nof the world as regards her opportunities, has hardly reached the\nheight of Arete. Unquestionably a glorious ideal is set up before the\nSisterhood of all time for emulation; or is it unattainable? At any\nrate the woman in Homer stands far in advance of her later historical\nposition in Greece.\n\nWe may now turn to the husband for a moment, Alcinous the King, the man\nof civil authority who represents the State, whose function is to be\nthe protector of the Family and of whomever the family receives into\nits bosom rightfully. He is the element surrounding and guarding the\nwarm domestic center; still he seems to have stronger impulses, or\nprobably less governed, than his wife. Distinctly is the superiority\naccorded to the woman in this discourse of Pallas to Ulysses; possibly\nthe Goddess may have overdrawn the picture a little in favor of her\nsex, as really Alcinous becomes the more prominent figure later one.\n\nSo we catch a very fascinating glimpse of the Phaeacian world. Two\nprominent characters representing the two great institutions of man,\nFamily and State, we witness; thus is the spirit of the whole poem\nethical. Here is no longer the realm of Calypso, the nymph of wild\nuntrained nature, but the clear sunlit prospect of home and country,\nthe anticipation of sunny Ithaca and prudent Penelope to the hapless\nsufferer. Ulysses sees his own land in the image of Phaeacia, sees what\nhe is to make out of his own island. Verily it is a great and\nepoch-making experience for him just before his return; he finds the\nideal here which he is to realize.\n\nAccordingly we have in line three women, Calypso, Nausicaa, Arete,\nthrough whose spheres Ulysses has passed on his way to his own female\ncounterpart, Penelope. We may see in them phases of man's development\nout of a sensuous into an institutional life. Nor is the suggestion too\nremote that we may trace in this movement certain outlines in the\nprogress of mankind toward civilization.\n\nIn the mythical history of Phaeacia which is also here given, we can\nobserve the same development suggested with greater distinctness.\nAlready in the previous Book it was stated that the Phaeacians at first\n\"dwelt near the insolent Cyclops,\" from whom they had to make the\nremoval to their present island on account of violence done them by\ntheir neighbors. But now we hear that both Alcinous and Arete are\ndescended on one side from the daughter of King Eurymedon, \"who ruled\nover the arrogant race of Giants,\" all of whom, both king and \"wicked\npeople,\" had perished. On the other side the royal pair had the sea-god\nNeptune as their progenitor who was also the father of the Cyclops\nPolyphemus. It is impossible to mistake the meaning of this genealogy\nand the reason of its introduction at the present conjuncture. The\nPhaeacians likewise were sprung of the wild men of nature, and had been\nat one time savages; but they had changed, had separated from their\nprimitive kindred and begun the march of civilization. The poet has\nmanifestly before his mind this question: why does one branch of the\nsame people develop, and another branch lag behind; why, of two\nbrothers, does one become civilized and the other remain savage? Of\nthis dualism Greece would furnish many striking illustrations, whereof\nthe difference between Athena and Sparta is the best known. Here the\nchange from the locality of the Cyclops, implying also the change in\nspirit, is made by a hero-king, \"the large-souled Nausithous,\"\nevidently a very important man to the Phaeacians. Then this respect\ngiven to the woman has often been noted as both the sign and the cause\nof a higher development of a people. At any rate the Phaeacians have\nmade the great transition from savagery to civilization, and thus\nreveal the inherent possibilities of the race.\n\nWe now begin to catch a hint of the sweep of the poem in these\nportions. Ulysses who has lapsed or at least has become separated from\nhis institutional life, must travel back to the same through the whole\nrise of society; he has to see its becoming in his own experience, and\nto a degree create it over again in his own soul, having lost it. Hence\nthe evolution of the social organism passes before his eyes, embodied\nin a series of persons and places.\n\nIn this Seventh Book, therefore, Ulysses is to make the transition to\nFamily and State as shown in Phaeacia, and as represented by Arete and\nAlcinous. We shall mark three leading divisions:--\n\nI. Ulysses enters the city in the dark, when he is met by Pallas and\nreceives her instructions. The divine principle again comes down and\ndirects.\n\nII. The external side of this Phaeacian world is shown in the city,\ngarden, and palace of the king; nature is transformed and made\nbeautiful for man. All this Ulysses now beholds.\n\nIII. The internal side of this Phaeacian world, its spiritual essence,\nis shown in the domestic and civil life of the rulers and nobles; of\nthis also Ulysses is the spectator, recognizing and appropriating.\n\nThus we see in the Book the movement from the divine to the human,\nwhich we have so often before noticed in Homer. The three parts we may\nwell put together into a whole: the Goddess of Intelligence informs the\nmind of man, which then transforms nature and builds institutions. Here\nPallas simply directs Ulysses, who, however, is now to witness the\nworks of mind done in Phaeacia, to recognize them and to take them up\ninto his spirit.\n\n\nI.\n\nUlysses follows the direction of Nausicaa and passes to the city\nstealthily in a kind of concealment; \"Pallas threw a divine mist over\nhim,\" the Goddess now having the matter in hand. Moreover she appeared\nto him in the shape of a young girl with a pitcher, who points out the\nhouse of Alcinous and gives him many a precious bit of history in her\nprattle. Again we must see what this divine intervention means; Pallas\nis in him as well as outside of him. These are suggestions of his own\ningenuity on the one hand, yet also the voice of the situation; indeed\nhe knew them essentially already from the instructions of Nausicaa.\nStill further, they are now a part of the grand scheme, which is in the\nOlympian order, and hence is voiced by the Gods.\n\nThe poet introduces his mythical forms; we hear also the fabulous\ngenealogy of the Phaeacian rulers, the meaning of which has been above\nset forth. They, too, Arete and Alcinous, have come from the Cyclops,\nand have made the same journey as Ulysses, though in a different\nmanner. It must be remembered that he has had his struggle with the\ngiant Polyphemus, one of the Cyclops, whereof he will hereafter give\nthe account. But the chief matter of the communication of Pallas is to\ndefine to Ulysses the position and character of Arete, evidently a\nwoman after her own heart. In this way the Goddess, taking the part of\na prattling maid, gives the royal pedigree, and especially dwells on\nthe importance of the queen. Also she throws side glances into the\npeculiar disposition of the Phaeacians, needful to be known to the\nnew-comer. They are a people by themselves, distrustful of other\npeoples; they too must be transcended.\n\nIt is well at this point to observe Homer's procedure in regard to\nPallas. We can distinguish two different ways of employing the Goddess.\nThe poet says that Pallas gives to the Phaeacian women surpassing skill\nin the art of weaving. This is almost allegorical, if not quite; the\nGoddess stands for a quality of mind, is subjective. Again, when she\nendows Ulysses with forecast in an emergency, it is only another\nstatement for his mental prevision. Many such expressions we can find\nin the Odyssey; Pallas is becoming a formula, indicating simply some\nactivity of mind in the individual. But in the important places the\nGoddess is kept mythical; that is, she voices the Divine Order, she\nutters the grand ethical purpose of the poem, or makes herself a vital\npart thereof. Thus she is objective, truly mythical; in the other case\nshe is subjective and is getting to be an allegorical figure. The\nOdyssey, with its greater internality compared with the Iliad, is\nlosing the mythus.\n\nThere is a third way of using Pallas and the Gods which is hardly found\nin Homer, indeed could not be found to any extent without destroying\nhim. This is the external way of employing the deities, who appear\nwholly on the outside and give their command to mortals, or influence\nthem by divine authority alone. Thus the Gods become mechanical, and\nare not a spiritual element of the human soul. Virgil leaves such an\nimpression, and the Roman poets generally. Even the Greek tragic poets\nare not free from it; especially Euripides is chargeable with this sin,\nwhich is called in dramatic language _Deus ex machina_.\n\nThough the Homeric poems as wholes are not allegories, yet they have\nallegory playing into them. Indeed the mythus has an inherent tendency\nto pitch over into allegory through culture. Then there is a reaction,\nthe mythical spirit must assert itself even among civilized peoples,\nsince allegorized Gods are felt to be hollow abstractions, having\nnothing divine about them.\n\nThere can hardly be a doubt that a proper conception of the relation of\nthe deities to men is the most important matter for the student of\nHomer. But it requires an incessant alertness of mind to see the\nHomeric Gods when they appear to the mortal, and to observe that they\nare not always the same, that they too are in the process of evolution.\nFor instance, in the present Book as well as elsewhere, Pallas must be\nnoted as having two characters, a mythical and allegorical, as above\nunfolded. Nitzsch, whose commentary on the Odyssey, though getting a\nlittle antiquated, is still the best probably, because it grapples with\nso many real problems of the poem, says: \"It is wholly in Homer's\nmanner to represent, in the form of a conversation with Pallas, what\nthe wise man turns over in his own mind and resolves all to himself\"\n(_Anmerkungen zu Homer's Odyssee, Band II, S. 137_). Very true, yet on\nthe next page Nitzsch says that it is \"entirely wrong to suppose that\nPallas represents the wisdom of Ulysses _allegorically_.\" But what else\nis allegory but this embodiment of subjective wisdom? Now Nitzsch truly\nfeels that Pallas is something altogether more than an allegory, but he\nhas failed to grasp distinctly her mythical character, the objective\nside of the Goddess, and so gets confused and self-contradictory.\n\nOne of the best books ever written on Homer is Naegelsbach's _Homerische\nTheologie_, which also wrestles with the most vital questions of the\npoem. But Naegelsbach's stress is almost wholly on the side of the\nGods, he seems to have the smallest vision for beholding the free,\nself-acting man in Homer. In his first chapter (_die Gottheit, the\nGodhead_) he recognizes the Gods as the upholders and directors of the\nSupreme Order (sec. 28); also they determine, or rather create\n(_schaffen_) man's thought and will (sec. 42). What, then, is left for\nthe poor mortal? Of course, such a view is at variance with Homer in\nhundreds of passages (see especially the speech of Zeus with which the\naction of the Odyssey starts, and in which the highest God asserts the\nfree-will and hence the responsibility of the man). Naegelsbach himself\nsuspects at times that something is wrong with his view and hedges here\nand there by means of some limiting clauses; note in particular what he\nsays about Ulysses (sec. 31), who is an exception, being \"thrown upon\nhis own resources in cases of extreme need,\" without the customary\nintervention of the Gods. But the man in his freedom, who co-operates\nwith the God in the providential order, is often brought before the\nreader in the Iliad as well as in the Odyssey (see author's _Com. on\nthe Iliad_, pp. 129, 157, 216, etc.).\n\n\nII.\n\nWe now come to one of the most famous passages in Homer, describing the\npalace and garden of Alcinous. First of all, we must deem it the outer\nsetting of this Phaeacian world with its spirit and institutions, the\nframework of nature transformed which takes its character from within.\nCivilized life assumes an external appearance corresponding to itself;\nit remodels the physical world after its own pattern. The result is,\nthis garden is in striking contrast with the bower of Calypso, which is\nalmost a wild product of nature. The two localities are mirrored\nsurrounding each home respectively. Again we observe how Homer employs\nthe description of scenery: he makes it reflect the soul as its center.\n\nIn a certain sense we may connect these Phaeacian works with Pallas, who\nhas directed Ulysses hither; they are the works of intelligence. The\narts and the industries spring up through the transformation of nature.\nHere is first noted the palace of the king with certain hints of its\nmaterials and construction; especially have the metals been wrought and\napplied to human uses. Gold, silver, steel, brass or bronze are\nmentioned in connection with the palace and its marvelous contents.\nThus an ideal sense of architecture we note; still more strongly\nindicated is the feeling for sculpture, the supreme Greek art. Those\ngold and silver watch-dogs at the entrance, \"which Vulcan made by his\nskill, deathless and ageless for all time;\" those golden boys \"upon\ntheir well-built pedestals holding lighted torches in their hands\" are\nverily indications that the plastic artist has already appeared. The\nnaive expression of life which the old poet gives to the sculpturesque\nshapes in the palace of Alcinous, is fresh as the first look upon a new\nworld, which is indeed now rising.\n\nBut not only the Fine Arts, the Industries also are touched upon.\nWeaving is specially emphasized along with navigation, one being the\nPhaeacian woman's and the other being the Phaeacian man's most skillful\nwork. Other occupations are involved in these two. Thus is marked the\nbeginning of an industrial society.\n\nAfter the palace the garden is described with its cultivated\nfruit-trees--pear, pomegranate, apples--a good orchard for to-day. Of\ncourse the vineyard could not be left out, being so important to the\nGreek; three forms of its products are mentioned--the grape, the\nraisin, and wine. Finally the last part is set off for kitchen\nvegetables, though some translators think that it was for flowers. Nor\nmust we omit the two fountains, such as often spout up and run through\nthe Greek village of the present time.\n\nUndoubtedly fabulous threads are spun through this description. Quite\ntoo lavish a use is made of the precious metals in the house of\nAlcinous, as in some fairy tale or romantic ballad; so much gold is\nfound nowhere outside of wonderland. In the garden fruit is never\nwanting, some of it just ripe, some still green, some in flower. No\nchange of season, yet the effect of all seasons; surely a marvelous\ncountry it appears; still we learn that in Campania are some sorts of\ngrapes which produce thrice a year. A mythical garden is indeed the\ndelight of human fancy. Eden has its counterparts everywhere. Indeed a\nsignificant parallel might be drawn between Greek Phaeacia and the\nHebrew Paradise; in the one, man unfolds out of savagery, in the other\nhe is created at once by a divine act. Can we not see Orient and\nOccident imaging themselves in their respective ideal products? The one\nfrom below upwards, the other from above downwards; both movements, the\nGreek and the Hebrew, belong to man, and have entered into his\ncivilization. The next world-poet, Dante, will unite the two streams.\n\n\nIII.\n\nUlysses now comes to the internal element of Phaeacia, to its soul as it\nwere, manifested in the institutional life of Family and State. From\nthis indeed is derived the beautiful world which we have just\nwitnessed; Art builds up a dwelling-place, which images the spirit of\nthe people to themselves and to others.\n\nIn accord with his instructions from both. Pallas and Nausicaa, he\nfirst goes to Arete and clasps her knees in supplication, begging for\nan escort to his country. But behold! She hesitates, notwithstanding\nhis strong appeal to her domestic feeling and her sympathy with\nsuffering. What can be the matter? Another Phaeacian, not of the royal\nhouse apparently, but of the nobles, is the first to speak and command\nthe stranger to be raised up and to be hospitably received. An old\nreligious man who sees the neglect of Zeus in the neglect of the\nsuppliant, a man of long experience, \"knowing things many and ancient,\"\nis this Echeneus; him at once the king obeys, the queen still remaining\nsilent.\n\nSoon, however, we catch the reason of her conduct in the question:\n\"Stranger, where did you get those garments?\" She noticed Ulysses\nwearing the mantle and tunic \"which she herself had made with her\nservants,\" and which Nausicaa had given him. Surely this is a matter\nwhich must be accounted for before proceeding further. Herein the woman\ncomes out in her own peculiar province; no man would ever have noticed\nthe dress so closely; Alcinous did not, and wise Ulysses in this case\ndid not forecast so far out of his masculine domain. But the poet had\nmade the subtle observation and uses it as a turning-point in his\nlittle drama. Now we see the queen before us: imagine a pair of dark\neyes shooting indignation upon the man clothed with garments intrusted\nthis very morning to the daughter.\n\nNor should we fail to scan her second question: \"Do you not say that\nyou have come hither a wanderer over the deep?\" Verily the case is\nsuspicious. Ulysses sees his plight, and at once offers the most\nelaborate explanation, going back and giving a history of himself for\nthe last seven or eight years. Now we know why the poet specially\npraised the mind of Arete, and why her husband so honored her, and why\nshe could be judge of disputes among men. She shows the keenest\nobservation united with reasoning power; she stands out in contrast\nwith the Phaeacian men, who follow impulse more readily than she, as she\nkeeps the judicial balance, though a woman, and demands evidence of\ntruth from the uncertain stranger.\n\nWe may draw from this scene certain traits of the Phaeacians, as we see\nhere a man, a typical man probably who is outside of the royal family.\nAn ideal humanity seems to live in them; they will receive the\nunfortunate wanderer and succor him to the fullest extent. More\nimpressive still is their religious faith; they live in intimate\ncommunion with the Gods, who appear in person at the feast \"sitting\namong us;\" nor do the deities conceal themselves from the solitary\nwayfarer; \"since we are as near to them as are the Cyclops and the wild\ntribes of Giants.\" So speaks Alcinous, hinting that kinship, which has\nbeen previously set forth; both himself and Arete are the descendants\nof savages, who were children of the Gods of nature. But they have\nrisen into fellowship with the higher Gods of Olympus. The words of the\nking seemed to be tinged with sarcasm at those inferior deities,\nparents of savagery, from whom, however, they themselves are sprung. He\ncannot forget the Cyclops, the men of violence who once did his people\nwrong.\n\nIn these mythical allusions, obscure enough just here, we have already\ntraced the rise of Phaeacia into an ethical existence. The worship of\nthe higher Gods is the emotional side of such a condition, and the\ntreatment of the suppliant marks an advance toward the conception of an\nuniversal humanity. Still Phaeacia, has its spiritual limits, genuine\nGreek limits, of which hereafter something will be said.\n\nIt is sufficient to state that the speech of Ulysses has its effect, it\ncontains a great deal which appeals to the character of Arete; his\nleaving Calypso and his desire to return to his home-life must be\npowerful motives towards winning her sympathy. Then she cannot help\nrecognizing and admiring his skill; there is an intellectual bond\nbetween them, as well as an ethical one. Not much does she say\nhereafter, her part being finished; her husband takes the lead\nhenceforth. She has tested the wanderer, Alcinous can now preform the\nceremonies.\n\nWe soon see that the king needs a counterpart in such a wife, he being\nimpulsively generous; he blames his daughter for her backwardness in\nnot coming to town with Ulysses, whereat the latter frames one of his\nsmallest fibs in excuse of the maiden. Still further, the king in a\nsurprising burst of admiration, wishes that Ulysses, or \"such an one as\nthou art,\" might stay and be called his son-in-law. Altogether too\nsudden; Arete would not have said that, though the woman be the natural\nmatch-maker. Still Alcinous, in a counter-outpouring of his generosity,\npromises to send Ulysses to his own land, though \"this should be\nfurther off than Euboea, the most distant country.\" Thus overflows\nthe noble heart of the king, but he clearly needs his other half, in\nthe thorny journey of life.\n\nThus has Ulysses reached the heart of Phaeacia and found its secret\nbeat; he has felt its saving power, not simply externally but also\ninternally; it rescues him from dangers of the sea and of himself too.\nThe truly positive side of life begins to dawn upon him again, after\nhis long career of struggle with dark fabulous shapes. Well may he pray\nZeus for Alcinous: \"May his fame be immortal over the fertile earth\"--a\nprayer which has been fulfilled, and is still in the process of\nfulfillment. Arete gives the order to the servants to spread his couch\nfor the night's repose, she has received him.\n\nIn the sweep of the present Book, many origins are suggested. The\ngenealogy of the king and queen and people is significant, it might be\ncalled the genealogy of civilization. The woman is placed at the\ncenter; out of her springs the family, and with it come society, state,\nthe institutional world.\n\nOf such a world the external environment is seen in the garden, palace,\nand city of the Phaeacians, which are built by the spirit for its\ndwelling-place and reflect the spirit. The Greek world of Beauty is\nborn, and its course is foreshadowed; this ideal Homeric realm is\nprophetic of what Greece is to become. The plastic arts and the\nindustrial arts are suggested, and to a degree are realized.\n\nThe artistic soul of Hellas is fully felt in Homer's Phaeacia. The\nformative impulse is everywhere alive and at work; the instinctive need\nof shaping and transforming nature and life is here in its first\nbudding, and will bloom into the greatest art-people of all time. Those\ntwo supreme Fine Arts of mature Greece, Architecture and Sculpture, are\npresent in examples which foretell plainly Phidias and the Parthenon.\n\n    King Alcinous; thy fair palace has had fairer offspring,\n      Thou art ruling the world still by the beautiful form;\n    Out of thy mansion majestic was born in a song the Greek Temple,\n      Sentineled round with a choir--Titans columnar of stone,\n    Bearing forever their burden to hymns of a Parian measure,\n      Wearing out heaviest Fate to a Pindaric high strain.\n    Look! those boys of thy garden with tapers are moving to statues,\n      Seeming to walk into stone while they are bringing the light;\n    Hellas springs out of thy palace all sculptured with actions\n          heroic,\n      Even the God we discern turning to marble by faith.\n\nSuch is the originative, prophetic character of Phaeacia, which the\nreader must take profoundly into his soul, if he would understand the\ngenetic history of Greek spirit. Verily the poet is the maker of\narchetypes and reveals in his shapes all that his people are to become.\n\n    Thou, old Homer, wert the first builder in Greece, the first\n          carver,\n      Afterward she could but turn fancies of thine into stone;\n    Architects followed thee, building thy poem aloft into temples,\n      Sculptors followed thee too, thinking in marble thy line.\n\nNor must we forget the Industrial Arts here suggested--weaving,\nship-building, the working of metals; in general, there is hinted the\nvaried transformation of nature, which begets a civilized life.\nAgriculture is present, also horticulture, which the garden of Alcinous\npresupposes. Such, then, is the grand frame-work for the social order\nas here portrayed.\n\nBut the chief art of the Homeric world has not yet been given, though\nit is at work now, and is just that which has reproduced Phaeacia with\nall its beauty. This is the poet's own art, which having set forth the\nother arts, is next to set forth itself. Accordingly we are to see the\npoet showing the poet in the following Book, which may, therefore, be\nnamed the Book of the Bard. Thus we pass out of the industrial and\nplastic arts of Phaeacia, into the supreme art, the poetic, as it\nmanifests itself in the Phaeacian singer.\n\n\n\n\n_BOOK EIGHTH._\n\n\nWe observe a decided change in the present Book; it has a character of\nits own quite distinct from the preceding Books. Yet it is on a line of\ndevelopment with them, we note a further spiritual evolution which must\nbe looked into with some attention. In general, Phaeacia is now seen as\nan art-world, in true correspondence with Hellas, of which it is a kind\nof ideal prototype. In the two previous Books we saw portrayed chiefly\ninstitutional life in Family and in State. But in this Book\ninstitutional life, though present and active, is withdrawn into the\nbackground, and becomes the setting for the picture, yet also is the\nspirit which secretly calls forth the picture. A poetic art-world now\npasses before us in entrancing outlines, a world filled with song,\ndance, games, with all the poetry of existence.\n\nSuch an artistic development follows from what has gone before. Man,\nhaving attained culture, civilization, and a certain freedom from the\nnecessity of working for his daily bread, begins to turn back and look\nat his career; he observes the past and measures how far he has come.\nThe image of himself in his unfolding he beholds in art, specially in\nthe poetic art, whose essence must at last be just this institutional\nlife which has been described in Phaeacia. He attains it and then steps\nback and portrays his attaining of it; having done the heroic deed, he\nmust see himself doing it forever, in the strains of the bard. Art is\nthus the mirror of life and of institutions; it reflects the grand\nconflict of the times and the people; it seizes upon the supreme\nnational event, and holds it up in living portraiture along with its\nheroes.\n\nNow the great event which lies back of Phaeacia at the present time, in\nfact lies back of all Greece for all ages, perchance lies back of all\nEurope, is the Trojan War. It was the first emphatic, triumphant\nassertion of the Greek and indeed of the European world against the\nOrient. The fight before Troy was not a mere local and temporary\nconflict between two quarrelsome borderers, but it cuts to the very\nmarrow of the World's History, the grand struggle between East and\nWest. Family and State are most deeply concerned in it, the restoration\nof the wife is the main object of the Trojan War, which the chieftains\nof Greece must conclude victoriously or perish. A new world was being\nborn on this side of the AEgean, and the Greeks were its first shapers\nand its earliest defenders. This occidental world, whose birth is the\nreal thing announced at Troy in that marvelous cradle-song of Europe,\ncalled the Iliad, has already begun its career, and shows its earliest\nperiod in Phaeacia. It is no wonder, then, that the Phaeacian people wish\nto hear the Trojan song, and it alone, and that the Phaeacian poet\nwishes to sing the Trojan song, and it alone.\n\nThus we behold in the present Book a quiet idyllic folk on their island\nhome out in the West listening to the mighty struggle of their race,\nwith dim far-off anticipations of all that it involved. Nor were the\nwomen indifferent. Arete, the wife and center of the Family, is not\nhenceforth to be exposed to the fate of Helen; think what would Phaeacia\nbe without her, or she without Phaeacia; think what she would be in\nTroy, for instance. Strong emotions must rise in the breasts of all the\npeople at hearing such a song.\n\nBut still stronger emotions well out of the heart of Ulysses. He is one\nof the heroes of the Trojan War not yet returned, a living image of its\nsacrifices. Of course, he is the main hero sung of by the bard in the\npresent Book; such is the artistic adaptation of the Homeric work,\nclearly done with a conscious design. Ulysses has already passed\nthrough several stages--Calypso, Nausicaa, Arete; now he has reached\nthe poet, Demodocus certainly, and perchance Homer himself, who is to\nsing not only of the Trojan War, but also of its consequences--this\nrise of man's spiritual hierarchy as here unfolded, from Nature, into\nInstitutions, and thence into Art. After hearing Demodocus, Ulysses\npicks up the thread and becomes his own poet, narrating his adventures\nin Fairyland with the free full swing of the Homeric hexameter. Thus he\nacquires and applies in his own way the art of Phaeacia; the arch of his\nlife spans over from the heroic fighter before Troy to the romantic\nsinger before the Phaeacian court.\n\nIt is plain, therefore, that this Book is distinctively the Book of the\nBard. In the experience of Ulysses, Demodocus is placed on a line with\nthe three leading figures in the last three Books--they being women,\nwhile the singer must be a man. One reason is, possibly, that a\nPhaeacian woman could not be permitted to sing such a strain as the\nstory of Venus and Mars. At any rate, he is fourth in the row of\nshapes, all of which are significant. We catch many touches of his\npersonality; he is blind, though gifted with song; \"evil and good\" he\nhas received, and is therein a typical man. It is in every way a\nbeautiful loving picture, painted with strong deep undertones of\nsympathy; no wonder is it, therefore, that Demodocus in all ages has\nbeen taken as a portrait of Homer by himself, showing glimpses of the\nman, of his station in life, and of his vocation. Later on we shall\nconsider this point in more detail.\n\nThe three songs of the bard furnish the main landmarks for the organism\nof the Book. All of them will be found more or less intimately\nconnected with the great event of the immediate Past, the story of\nTroy. Phaeacia shows an intense interest in that story and the bard\napproves himself its worthy singer. Indeed the three songs stand in\ndirect relation to the Iliad; the first deals with an event antecedent\nto the Iliad; the second has the theme of the Iliad, though in a\nchanged form, inasmuch as the seducer, the wife and the husband are\nhere Gods (Mars, Venus, Vulcan) instead of mortals (Paris, Helen,\nMenelaus); the third deals with an event subsequent to the Iliad. Yet\nthe singer carefully avoids repeating anything in the Iliad. It is\nalmost impossible not to think that he had not that poem in mind; or,\nrather, we are forced to conclude that the present author of the\nOdyssey knew the Iliad, and we naturally think that both were by the\nsame man. Demodocus is the singer of the Trojan War, yet he shuns\nsinging what has already been sung about it. Herein we may catch\nanother faint reflection of Homer, the organizer, the transfigurer of\nold legends into his two poems. Note also that he hovers around the\nIliad, before and after it, yet never into it, here and elsewhere in\nthe Odyssey; specially in the Third Book have we observed the same\nfact.\n\nIn the present Book, however, is another strand; besides these songs of\nthe bard belonging to the past are the doings in Phaeacia belonging to\nthe present, which doings have a connection and a correspondence with\nthe songs. Thus we observe three divisions in the Book, and two threads\nwhich run through these divisions. The following outline may serve to\nshow the general structure:--\n\nI. There is the representation of the struggle between the physical and\nmental in what may be called Phaeacian art; skill and strength have an\nencounter shown in two ways:\n\n    1. Past, heroic, ideal; the contest between Ulysses and Achilles at\n    Troy; intelligence vs. mere courage. Sung by the bard. Pre-Iliad.\n\n    2. Present, real, not heroic; the games in which there is a contest\n    also, and in which both skill and strength are involved, with the\n    preponderance of the physical.\n\nII. Now we drop to the sensuous inactive side of the Phaeacian world,\nthe luxurious, self-indulgent phase of their life, which is also imaged\nin their art doubly:\n\n    1. Past; an Olympian episode, a story of illicit love among the\n    Gods, corresponding to the story of Helen on earth. Sung by the\n    bard.\n\n    2. Present; hints concerning the sensuous life of the Phaeacians who\n    love the feast, the song, the warm bath and bed, along with dance\n    and music, showing their pleasure in art. Return of the men from\n    the market-place to the palace and into the presence of Arete.\n\nIII. We pass to what may be called the triumph of intelligence and the\nrecognition thereof,--Phaeacian art is again introduced, Ulysses is\nrevealed.\n\n    1. Past, heroic, ideal; Troy is taken by skill, by the Wooden\n    Horse, not by the physical might and courage of Achilles. Sung by\n    the bard. Post-Iliad. This may be considered also a triumph over\n    Venus who favored Troy.\n\n    2. Present; Ulysses weeps, his tears are noticed by Alcinous, who\n    demands his name, country, travels. Ulysses has already in a number\n    of ways discovered himself as connected with the past, with the\n    Trojan War. In the next Book he tells his name, country, character,\n    adventures.\n\nIf we scan the sweep of this outline, we observe that it opens with the\nconflict between Brain and Brawn, or between Mind and Might, and ends\nin the victory of Mind in the grand Trojan conflict. Similar has been\nthe movement hitherto, from Calypso onwards, which, however, shows the\nethical conflict. Still the intellectual and the ethical spheres have\nto subordinate the natural, and mind is the common principle of both.\n\nAs an introduction to the Book we have an account of the men assembling\nin the marketplace, where \"they sat on polished stones near one\nanother.\" Pallas has, of course, to be employed, though in a passing\nand very subordinate way; she acts as herald to call the assembly\ntogether, and thus stamps it with a divine import. We must grant to the\npoet his right, but the Goddess seems almost unnecessary here, as the\nherald could have done the same work. Once more Pallas interferes: \"she\nsheds a godlike grace upon the head and shoulders of Ulysses,\"\nimparting to him majesty and beauty, \"that he might be dear to all the\nPhaeacians,\" those lovers of the beautiful in art and life. Thus, like a\nvisible deity, he was \"to be feared and to be revered;\" strength also\nthe Goddess gave him, \"that he might accomplish all the contests which\nthe Phaeacians would try him with.\" Thus is the Hero prepared divinely.\n\nAlcinous makes a speech to the assembly, touching the wanderer, who is\nagain promised an escort to Ithaca; the king chooses the crew, and the\nship is launched. Meanwhile, however, there is to be a sacrifice with\nfestival, the bard is led in and his harp adjusted, his portion of food\nand drink not being omitted, for he is not a hired musician, but an\nequal at the feast.\n\nWe are now to witness two kinds of entertainment, both of which\naccording to the Greek conception, belong to the sphere of art. The one\nis an heroic song, and is thrown into the past; the other is a trial of\nbodily skill and strength, and belongs to the present. Both kinds show\ncontest, and this contest is mainly between the physical and the\nspiritual elements in man. Which is paramount? Each is necessary, yet\none must be subordinate.\n\n1. Note, first of all, the theme of the bard: \"The Muse inspired him to\nsing the strife between Ulysses and Achilles, the fame whereof had\nreached high Heaven.\" The Trojan War lies manifestly in the background\nof the quarrel. When did it take place, at what period during the\nstruggle? There is nothing to settle the question decisively, such a\ndispute might have arisen almost at any time. But as it is the\nantecedent trouble in the Greek army, a dualism which this army brings\nwith itself in its leaders, we may reasonably put it somewhere towards\nthe beginning. This is also the opinion of Nitzsch (_Com. ad loc._),\nwho places the scene of the dispute on the island of Tenedos, in sight\nof the walls of Troy and who cites the old _Cypria_ in support of his\nopinion. Other ancient authorities place it after the death of Hector;\nnot long before the fall of the city.\n\nConcerning the subject of the dispute there is little difference of\nopinion. The Greek commentator, Eustathius (died about 1200 A.D.)\ncites the following legend in reference to it: \"Agamemnon, having\nconsulted the Delphic Oracle about the result of the Trojan War,\nreceived the answer that Troy would be taken when the best men of the\nGreeks would begin to quarrel. At a feast a dispute arose between\nAchilles and Ulysses, the former maintaining that Ilion would be\ncaptured by bravery, the latter by skill and cunning.\" Hence the joy of\nAgamemnon at what would otherwise be regarded as a ground for sorrow.\n\nThe response of the Oracle was ambiguous, yet even out of its ambiguity\nwe may read something. Achilles, the man of courage, was regarded as\nthe hero of the Greeks, but this opinion must be contested, and wisdom\nmust also have its place in the management of the war, before the\nhostile city can be taken. These two principles are represented by\nAchilles and Ulysses respectively. The God of Wisdom, Apollo, responds,\ntherefore, in accord with his character, carefully, doubtfully, not\ntaking a decisive stand on either side, uttering an oracle which itself\nneeds interpretation. Still we can see that it means a protest against\nmere brute courage--a protest which Ulysses voices. The Trojan Horse,\nthe grand successful stratagem, may be considered as the outcome.\n\nIn Shakespeare's _Troilus and Cressida_, the same subject is worked\nover very fully and is indeed the main pivot of the drama, in which\nAchilles is substantially deposed from his heroship and replaced by\nUlysses. The contest between mind and might or skill and courage, is\nwhat the English poet took from his Greek elder brother in part and in\npart derived from later legend. The struggle between brain and brawn\nwas indeed a vital one in the Greek camp; there was always the danger\nlest the spirit would got lost in its physical manifestation. Indeed\nthe danger of the Greek world was just this, and it perished at last of\nthe same disease which we already notice at Troy. It fell to a worship\nof the sensuous in life and art, and so lost its soul in a grand\ndebauch.\n\n2. King Alcinous has noticed that Ulysses hid his face and wept at the\nsong of the bard. Thus strong emotion seizes him on hearing the strife\nat Troy, while the Phaeacians listen with delight. Such is the contrast,\nhinting two very different relations to the song. But the king will\ndivert him from his grief, and so calls for the games to show him \"how\nmuch we excel others in boxing, wrestling, leaping and running.\" The\nquoit was also one of the games.\n\nIn like manner Achilles is diverted from his sorrows for his friend\nPatroclus, by an elaborate exhibition of games, which are set forth in\nBook Twenty-Third of the Iliad. Contests of strength and skill they\nare, showing the body under control of mind and manifesting the same up\nto a certain point. They have an artistic side and train the man\nphysically, requiring also no little mental alertness.\n\nWhen the Phaeacian contestants had finished, there was an attempt to\nbring Ulysses into the game and have him show what he was, but he\ndeclined the courteous invitation; \"cares are in my mind more than\ngames.\" Then Euryalus taunts him with being a merchant, or robber, and\nno athlete. Ulysses makes a caustic reply, picks up the quoit, and\nhurls it far beyond the marks of the others; then with some display of\ntemper he challenges any of the Phaeacians present to any kind of\ncontest. He even becomes boastful, and tells what he is ready to do in\nthe way of games; still further, he can shoot the bow and throw the\njavelin in heroic fashion--which accomplishments he will employ with\ntelling effect against the suitors hereafter.\n\nAlcinous pacifies him with gentle words, and proceeds to withdraw all\nhis previous claims extolling Phaeacian athletic skill. The soft arts of\npeace are theirs; \"in boxing and in wrestling we have small fame;\" but\non the other hand \"we delight in feasts, we love the harp and dance;\"\nnew clothes are in favor, and \"we like the warm bath and bed.\" Very\ndifferent is now the call of King Alcinous from that last one: let the\nstranger see \"how much we excel others in the dance and song,\" to which\nis strangely added seamanship. Such is the preparation for the lay of\nthe loves of Mars and Venus.\n\nThrough these games the heroic strand in the stranger has been brought\nto light, somewhat in contrast with the Phaeacians. As he had a contest\nof mind with Achilles at Troy, so he has now a contest which shows his\nphysical might; he is no weakling in spite of his intellect. Pallas too\ndoes not fail him, she marks his superiority in the throw of his quoit,\nand thus inspires him with courage.\n\n\nII.\n\nWe have now reached the second song of the bard, for the way has been\nsmoothed by the preceding description of the luxurious delights of the\nPhaeacians. It is often called the Loves of Venus and Mars, or the\nAdulterers caught on Olympus. From time immemorial much doubt of\nvarious sorts, poetical, moral, philological, has been cast upon this\nsong. Some ancient commentators have regarded it an interpolation, not\na genuine part of Homer; modern expositors have not hesitated to follow\nthe same opinion.\n\nAnd indeed there are strong grounds for suspicion. Almost every reader\nfeels at the first perusal its jar with the general character of this\nidyllic Phaeacian world; it is decidedly adverse to the spirit of Arete\nand Nausicaa, as previously unfolded; the fact would almost seem\nimpossible that, in an atmosphere created chiefly by these two women,\nthere could be such a kind of artistic enjoyment. The most conservative\nreader is inclined here to agree with those who perform an act of\nexcision upon the text of Homer. The whole passage grates too harshly\nupon nerves which have been attuned to the sweet innocent life depicted\nin the two preceding Books.\n\nThe objections to the song may be summed up in the following heads. (1)\nIt is inconsistent and deeply discordant with the ethical tone of\nPhaeacia already given. (2) It does not further Ulysses in any way, it\nshows no trait in his character, unless his faint approval signifies\nhis liking for such songs. Nor does it seem on the surface to connect\nhim with Troy, as do the other two songs of Demodocus. (3) It gives an\nunworthy view of the Gods, degrading them far below Homer's general\nlevel, reducing them to ordinary burlesque figures which violate all\ndecency, not to speak of morality. (4) Philologists have picked out\ncertain words and expressions peculiar to this passage, which, not\nbeing employed by Homer elsewhere, tend to indicate some other author.\n\nStill, if the passage be an interpolation, this must have taken place\nearly in the history of the poems. Pausanias the traveler declares that\nhe saw the dancing scene of the Phaeacians depicted upon the throne of\nApollo at Amyclae, the artist of which probably flourished about 600 B.\nC. The old philosopher Heraclitus, who would scourge Homer from the\nfestivals of the Gods, doubtless had this passage in mind. Plato\ncensures its indecency specially, and, as is well known, would exclude\nall Homer from his ideal Republic. The ancients thus accepted the\npassage as Homeric, with the exception of some of the later\ngrammarians.\n\nNext come the many attempts, old and new, to allegorize the Olympian\nscene, or to explain it away. From the fact that the sun keeps watch\nand is mentioned twice in this part, the latest school of mythologists,\nthe comparative so-called, have taken much comfort, and have at once\nfound in the whole a sun-myth. Some ancient expositors, according to\nAthenaeus, interpreted it as a story written for the purpose of\ndeterring the listeners from doing similar bad deeds, pointing to the\npunishment even of Gods herein designated; thus they sought to save the\ncredit of Homer, treating him quite as some commentators have treated\ncertain morally questionable stories in the Bible. Thus along down the\nages to the present the loves of Venus and Mars have created trouble.\n\nUndoubtedly the song has meaning and deserves a rational exposition.\nHas it any connection with the other songs of this Book, or with Homer\nin general? It is certainly a product of early Greek poesy; can it be\norganically jointed into anything before it and after it? The burlesque\ntone which it assumes towards certain Olympians has caused it to be\nconnected with the Battle of the Frogs and Mice, and with the war of\nthe Gods in the Iliad (Book Twenty-First). Let us extend our horizon,\nand take a new look in various directions.\n\nIn the first place this song connects with Troy and the Iliad like the\nother two songs of Demodocus. The cause of the Trojan War and of its\npoem was the deed of Paris. The seducer, the wife, the husband--Paris,\nHelen, Manelaus--are the three central figures of the legend. Here this\nlegend is thrown up among the Gods themselves, who furnish three\ncorresponding characters--Mars, Venus, Vulcan. Then there is the wrong\nand the punishment of the wrong in both cases. Such is the theme of the\nTrojan War as it appears in the Iliad. Thus the three songs of\nDemodocus indicate a Pre-Iliad, an Iliad, and a Post-Iliad in due\norder.\n\nIn the second place one asks very emphatically: Why this present\ntreatment of the Gods on Homer's part? But here we must make an\nimportant distinction. The Supreme God, Zeus, does not appear, nor does\nJuno nor does Pallas, indeed none of the Goddesses except the guilty\none. The disgrace falls upon two mainly: Mars and Venus. In the Iliad\nthey are Trojan deities hostile to the Greeks, and here the Greek poet\nserves them up together in an intermezzo, which makes them comic.\nIndeed the Greek Hero Diomed fights and puts down just these two Trojan\ndeities in the Fifth Book of the Iliad. So must every Greek Hero at\nTroy conquer Mars and Venus (Violence and Lust, to give a suggestion of\ntheir purport) before Helen can be restored to home and country; he\nmust put down the hostile city and its Gods. Note too, whither the\nGreek poet sends each of these deities after their release: Mars flies\noff to Thrace, a distant, barbarous country, beyond the borders of\nHellas, where he can find his own; Venus on the contrary slips away\nsoutheastward to Cyprus inhabited by peoples Oriental or Orientalizing,\nand therein like Troy and herself. Both rush out of Greece with all\nspeed; they belong somewhere in the outskirts of the Greek world.\n\nWe may now see why the Phaeacians, without being so very wicked, could\nfind an element in the song which they enjoyed. To them, with the\nTrojan War always in mind, this was the theme: the adulterous Trojan\ndeities caught and laughed out of Olympus--those being the two deities\nwho first misled by desire and then tried to keep by war the beautiful\nHelen, the Greek woman. Throwing ourselves back into his spirit, we may\nalso see why Ulysses, the old war-horse from Troy, \"was rejoiced in his\nheart, hearing the song\" which degraded and burlesqued the Gods whom he\nhad fought ten years, and who were, in part at least, the occasion of\nhis wandering ten more. Venus and Mars did not find much sympathy in\nthe Phaeacian company, we may be sure. Why then regard them as Gods? The\nGreek deified everything; even the tendencies which he felt himself\nobliged to suppress had something of the divine in them. Calypso, whom\nUlysses subordinated at last to the higher principle, was a Goddess;\nTroy, the hostile city, had its deities, whom the Greek recognised. Now\nits two chief deities are involved in a common shame, and flee from\nOlympus, flee almost outside of the Greek world. Certainly the audience\ncould take some ethical satisfaction in that.\n\nThen there is a third consideration different from the two preceding,\nboth of which seek to look at the song from the ancient Greek\nstandpoint. But from our modern standpoint it is also to be regarded.\nThere is no doubt that we see here the beginning of the end of\npolytheism; the many Gods collide with one another, some are now put\nout and all will be finally put out; they are showing their finitude\nand transitoriness. Still further, we catch a glimpse of the sensuous\nside of Greek life, the excess of which at last brought death. Homer is\nthe prophet of his people, when read with insight; he tells not only\nwhat they are, but hints what they are to become.\n\nIn general, we pass in this second part of the present Book as we have\ndivided it, to the sensuous element of the Phaeacian world, the\ninactive, quiet, self-indulgent phase, in decided contrast to the\npreceding part which shows a love of manly action in games and in war.\nLet us still further develop the twofold way in which this fact is\nbrought out.\n\n1. The second song of Demodocus has the general theme of the Trojan War\nand suggests the grand event of the aforetime. It manifestly carries\nthe Trojan scission into Olympus and drives out in disgrace the Trojan\ndeities. Vulcan, the wronged husband, is the divine artificer; he makes\na network of chains which could not be broken, \"like a spider's web, so\nfine that no one could see it, not even a God;\" in this snare the\nguilty deities are caught, exposed, punished. These invisible, yet\nunbreakable chains have an ethical suggestion, and hint the law which\nis also to be executed on Olympus, as it was below in Troy. As Vulcan\nis the artist among the Gods, we are prompted to find also an artistic\nbearing in the scene; the artist catches the wrong-doers by his art and\nholds them fast in a marvelous net where they still lie, and shall lie\nfor all time; even the intercession of Neptune cannot get them free.\nThe scene is indeed caught out of the reality and holds to-day; the\ndashing, finely-uniformed son of Mars (so called at present) is most\napt to win the heart of the gay, fashionable, beautiful daughter of\nVenus, have an escapade, and cause a scandal. Oft too they are caught\nin our modern, most adroitly woven spider's web, which goes under the\nname of newspaper, and held up, if not before a seeing Olympus, at\nleast before a reading public, which not seldom indulges in\nconversation very much in the style of the Gods as here set forth. We\nmoderns do not go to the market-place to hear such a strain, but have\nit brought to us in the Morning Journal. One advantage the Phaeacian\nhad: Arete and Nausicaa did not go to the market-place, where this song\nwas sung, only men were there, but the print will enter the household\nwhere are wife and daughter. At any rate, we have to pronounce the song\nof Demodocus typical, universal, nay, ethical in spite of its\nlight-hearted raillery, inasmuch as the deed is regarded as a breach of\ndivine law, is exposed and punished, and the recompense for the release\nof the guilty pair, the penalty, is duly stated in accordance with law.\nNot every modern story-teller is so scrupulous, in meting out justice\nto ethical violation.\n\n2. So much for the song; we turn again to the Phaeacians, who are not\nnow engaged in athletic, but in a milder sport, the dance. Youths moved\ntheir bodies in tune to the strain; still in Greece the dance and the\nsong often go together. Then two danced alone without the song, but\nemployed a ball, tossing it from one to the other, for the amusement of\nthe spectators. A rhythmical movement of the body in the dance shows\nmore internality than the athletic game, but it is less hardy, is more\nindicative of luxury and effeminacy.\n\nOn account of these enjoyments, which have been unrolled before us in\nso many striking pictures, the Phaeacians have been regarded by some\nwriters both in ancient and modern times as the mythical Sybarites\ndevoted simply to a life of pleasure. The love of the warm bath and\nclean clothes, the dance and the song, above all the second lay of\nDemodocus have given them a bad name. Heraclides Ponticus derived their\nwhole polity of non-intercourse, of concealment, of sending away the\nstranger as soon as possible out of their island, from their desire to\nresign themselves more completely to their luxurious habits, without\nforeign disturbance. Horace expresses a similar view of this people.\nNitzsch in Commentary (_ad loc._) defends the Phaeacians warmly against\nthe charge, and the view that Arete and Nausicaa cannot be products of\na corrupt society holds good. An idyllic people, not by any means\nenervated, though pleasure-loving--so we must regard them. That lay of\nthe bard, rightly looked into, does not tell against them as strongly\nas is sometimes supposed. Still Heraclides touched upon a limitation of\nPhaeacia in his criticism, it refused to join the family of nations,\nit sought to be a kind of little China and keep all to itself. It\nhad solved, however, the problem of external war and of internal\ndissension; no dispute with neighboring nations about commercial\nprivileges, no local strife which cannot be settled by Arete. The poet\nhas as nearly as possible succeeded in eliminating the negative element\nout of this society. An unwarlike folk, but not effeminate, happy in\npeace, with a childlike delight in play, which is the starting-point of\nart, and remains its substrate, according to Schiller; truly idyllic it\nmust be regarded, a land on the way between nature and civilization,\nwhere life is a perpetual holiday, and even labor takes on a festal\nappearance.\n\nUlysses gives the palm of excellence in the dance to the Phaeacians, and\nwith this recognition the king proposes a large number of\npresents--hospitable gifts, such as the host gives to his honored\nguest. Moreover an apology and a gift are required of that Euryalus who\nrecently offended Ulysses. Thus reconciliation is the word and the\ndeed. Then all are ready to return to the palace into the presence of\nArete, who is the orderer, and she makes arrangements for packing up\nthe gifts. Note the warm bath again, supposed sign of effeminacy; here\nit is taken by Ulysses with decided approbation. Nausicaa, too, appears\nin a passing glance, and simply asks to be remembered for her deed; the\nresponse of Ulysses is emphatic: when he gets home he \"will pray to her\nas to a God day by day, for thou, O maiden, hast saved my life.\"\n\nIn this round of recognition, the bard must not be forgotten; he is\nagain led in, a banquet is served, and Ulysses takes special pains to\nhonor him \"with a part of the fat back of a white-tusked boar,\" and to\nspeak a strong word of commendation: \"Demodocus, I praise thee above\nall mortals; either the Muse or Apollo has taught thee, so well dost\nthou sing the fate of the Greeks.\"\n\n\nIII.\n\nThe praise of the bard naturally leads to the third portion of the\nBook, introduced by another song, which has its intimate connection\nwith the preceding ones. Then its effect is noted upon Ulysses, who\nweeps as before, being stirred by many memories of companions lost.\nVerily Troy is a tearful subject. What motive for weeping? Who is this\nstranger anyhow? Alcinous now starts his interrogations which Ulysses\nanswers in the following Book. Still, though nameless, he has unfolded\nhimself quite fully through his actions in this Book. Again we hear the\ndeeds of the aforetime sung by the poet, and see their influence in the\npresent.\n\n1. Ulysses himself now asks the poet to sing of the Wooden Horse which\n\"was made by Epeius with the aid of Pallas,\" the Goddess here standing\nfor skill, as it is now skill which takes Troy, not mere courage. Then\nmark further: Ulysses was the man who introduced it within the Trojan\nwalls by stratagem--clearly another case of brain-work rather than\nbrawn-work. This famous Wooden Horse was \"filled with men who took\nTroy.\" Such is the song which Ulysses now calls for, mentioning himself\nby name--a fact which makes the announcement of his name soon after\nmore impressive and dramatic. The Phaeacians had just heard the\nculminating act in the taking of Troy, whereof Ulysses was the hero;\nbehold! he stands before them, in all the prestige of song. Some\ncritics have wondered why the name of Ulysses was withheld so long, and\nhave imagined all sorts of interpolations; surely they have not seen\nthe plan of the poet.\n\nThe Wooden Horse is not employed in the Iliad, but is one of the\nstriking details of the later epics, which recounted the destruction of\nTroy. The song of Demodocus carries the incident back to the time of\nHomer, and before Homer, for it suggests antecedent ballads or\nrhapsodies which Homer knew, but did not use, and which poets after him\ndeveloped. The Odyssey takes for granted that its hearers knew the Lay\nof the Wooden Horse, and also the Lay of the Strife between Ulysses and\nAchilles, \"the fame of which had reached the broad Heavens.\" Thus we\nget a peep into the workshop of Homer and catch a glimpse of his\nmaterials, which he did not invent, but found at hand. Homer is the\nbuilder, the architectonic genius; he organizes the floating, disparate\nsongs of his age into a great totality, into a Greek Temple of which\nthey are the stones. Note what he does with this lay of Demodocus; he\nputs it into its place in the total structure of the Odyssey, and thus\npreserves it forever. So he has done with all his materials doubtless.\n\nWe may now see that those who cut up the Homeric poems into so many\ndifferent songs or ballads simply destroy the distinctive work of\nHomer. They pry asunder the beautiful Greek Temple, lay its stones\nalongside of one another, and say: behold the poet. But this is just\nwhat he is not, and in the present Book we may see him unfolding his\nown process. Homer is not Demodocus, but the latter's lay he takes up\nand then weaves what he wants of it into the texture of the total poem.\nHe is thus a contrast to the bard, whom, however, he fully recognizes\nand makes a part of his own work. Thus Homer himself really answers the\nWolfian theory, which seeks to reduce him to a Demodocus, singing\nfragmentary lays about the Trojan War.\n\nFrom the Greek poets the Wooden Horse passed to Virgil, who has made it\nthe best-known incident of the Trojan War. It is probably the most\nfamous stratagem of all time, due to the skill of Ulysses. Herein lies\nthe answer to the first lay of Demodocus; in the dispute Ulysses is\nright, indeed he is a greater hero than Achilles, who could never have\ncaptured the hostile city. The incident took place after the action of\nthe Iliad, and after the death of Achilles, who, heroic in courage,\nstood in the way of intelligence. When he is gone, the city falls,\noverthrown by the brain of Ulysses.\n\nHomer does not pretend to give the song of Demodocus in full, but a\nbrief summary of what he sang before the Phaeacians. A later poet,\nArctinus, took up the legend here alluded to, and developed it in a\nseparate epic, called the Iliou-persis or Sack of Troy. Indeed a vast\nnumber of legends and lays about the Trojan War bloomed into epics,\nwhich were in later times joined together and called the Epic Cycle.\nThus we distinguish two very different stages of consciousness in early\nGreek poetry: the ballad-making and the epical, Homer being the supreme\nexample of the latter, and Demodocus an instance of the former.\n\nLooking back at the three lays of the bard in the present Book we find\nthat they all are connected together in a common theme of which they\nshow different phases, beginning, middle and end--the conflict before\nthe Iliad, the conflict of the Iliad, and the conflict after the Iliad,\nall hovering around the great national enterprise of the Greeks, namely\nthe Trojan War, in which the deepest principle of the Hellenic world,\nindeed of the entire Occident, was at stake.\n\nBut Homer, in distinction from Demodocus, weaves into his poem not only\nthe past but the present, not only Troy but Phaeacia, not only the\nmovement against the East but also the movement toward the West, of\nwhich Phaeacia is simply one stage. The Hero who unites these two great\nmovements of Greek spirit is now brought before us again.\n\n2. Ulysses weeps at the song of the bard which recalls so many memories\nof friends departed and of dire calamities. These tears connect him\ndeeply with Troy and its conflict; the Phaeacians listen intently, but\nare outside of the great struggle, they shed no tears. Thus does\nUlysses in his strongest emotions unite himself with the Trojan\nenterprise of aforetime. He is not simply a wanderer over the sea\nseeking to get home, but a returner from Troy; he has revealed himself\nthrough his feelings. He personally shares in the woes sung by the\nbard, because he has experienced them. Indeed the very image which the\npoet here employs to express sorrow, taken from the woman whose husband\nhas been slain fighting for his city, and for his wife and his\nchildren, recalls Hector, Andromache and Astyanax as they appear in the\nSixth Book of the Iliad. Ulysses is like such a woman, without home or\nfamily, alone among strangers, shedding tears. Thus he connects himself\nwith the fateful story of Ilium.\n\nPreviously Ulysses wept at the first lay of Demodocus, now he\nemphasizes his sorrow by repetition. Whenever the theme of Troy is\ntouched, he has to respond with tears; the second time of weeping at\nthe Trojan tale is necessary in order to fix his character and identify\nhim as a returner. Yet this repetition so vitally organic is questioned\nby many critics, some of whom resort to excision. It is hardly worth\nthe while to notice them in their various attempts at destruction and\nconstruction; when we once catch the underlying motive all becomes\nplain. The first and last scenes of weeping unifies the Book, the bond\nof tears holds its parts indissolubly together in the emotions.\n\nAlcinous has observed the stranger both times, sitting near him, while\nwe may suppose that the other Phaeacians, not noticing him, to be\nfurther off. The king sees his distress and even hears his sobs; in the\nfirst case the royal host refrained from inquiry, that being the duty\nof hospitality; but now the time for interrogation has arrived. The\nspeech of Alcinous is characteristic; full of humanity, full of\nsympathy is the tone: \"a guest, a suppliant stands for a brother even\nto the man of little feeling.\" A touch of prophetic boastfulness he\nshows here and elsewhere; the ships of the Phaeacians he endows with\nsupernatural powers, which fact, however, is not without meaning: \"We\nhave no pilots, no rudders even, our boats obey our thoughts, and know\nthe cities and lands to which they come; very quickly do they shoot\nacross the wave, hid in fog and cloud.\" Truly an ideal ship, which time\nhas not yet realized, though recent navigation, with its present steam\nand its future electricity, is on the way thereto. Still angry Neptune\nthreatens danger and may work damage, \"smiting the ship on the dark\ndeep.\" This speech of Alcinous with its miraculous, prophetic tinge,\nwith its far-seeing hints of coming realities, almost foretelling our\nmodern humanity and our modern mastery of the sea through science, and\nputting the two side by side, has given much trouble to the critics,\nwhom we again shall have to pass by, as they simply darken the poet.\n\nFinally comes the demand: who art thou and why didst thou weep? What is\nthy relation to Troy? Such is the culminating question; Ulysses has\nbeen unfolding himself more and more throughout the present Book before\nthe king and people. The games showed his heroic strength; the dances\nbrought out his recognizing and harmonious spirit; the lays of\nDemodocus have developed his connection with Troy. He clearly belongs\nto the past and to the present, possibly he is a bridge spanning them,\nwhich bridge he may be induced to build in wondrous rainbow colors\nbefore the eyes of the Phaeacians.\n\n_Appendix._ It seems never to have been noticed what an important\nrelation the present Book sustains toward the Wolfian theory concerning\nthe Homeric poems. The picture of Demodocus here given doubtless\nsuggested to Wolf the first outline of his view, and has influenced\nother commentators who lean toward similar opinions. It is well known\nthat Wolf in his famous _Prolegomena_ maintains that the Iliad and\nOdyssey were originally a string of ballads more or less disconnected,\nand that Homer was only one of the many balladists, probably the best;\nfurthermore he holds that these ballads were brought together, edited\nand put into their present shape by certain literary men called\n_diaskeuastoe_--revisers, redactors, professors of poetry and philology\nat the court of Peisistratus, about 500 B.C.\n\nThat is, Wolf regards Homer as a Demodocus, a singer and also a maker\nof disjointed ballads and war-songs, the latter pertaining mostly to\nthe heroes of the Trojan War. These were sung at the festivals of the\npeople, at the houses of the nobility, and at the courts of kings,\nquite as we see the bard singing here in Phaeacia. This fact we may\naccept; but the question comes up: Is Homer such a balladist and\nnothing more?\n\nNow it is clear that Homer is not a Demodocus, since the latter is not\nan epical builder, but a simple singer of separate lays for the\noccasion. Mark well that Homer in this book does not unfold the themes,\n\"Strife between Ulysses and Achilles,\" and \"The Wooden Horse,\" but\nsimply alludes to them as well-known; he barely gives the title and a\nlittle of the argument, then drops the matter, leaving us to suppose\nthat the Bard sang a somewhat lengthy lay, of which the effect upon the\nhearers and specially upon Ulysses is duly noted.\n\nHomer, therefore, in this Book as well as in the First Book where\nPhemius is introduced, makes the Bard or Balladist merely one of his\nfigures, and the song one of his incidents, while he, the veritable\nHomer, portrays the total environment, showing the court, the games,\nthe household, the complete Phaeacian world. Here we come upon the main\ndistinction: Homer's eye is upon the totality of which the\nballad-singer is but a small fragment; Demodocus appears in but one\nPhaeacian Book, and is by no means all of that, though for once the\nleading figure.\n\nA step further we may carry the thought. Homer is not only not a\nDemodocus, but he very distinctly contrasts himself with Demodocus by\nhis poetic procedure. If he is at such pains to show himself a\nworld-builder, and then puts into his world a ballad-singer as a\npassing character, he certainly emphasizes the difference between\nhimself and the latter. It is also to be noticed that Demodocus does\nnot sing an Iliad, though he chants lays of Troy; the Iliad is an\norganized work, not a collection of ballads strung together. Everything\nabout Demodocus indicates separate songs; everything about Homer (the\nIliad and the Odyssey) indicates unity of song. Hence with the\nseparatists, dissectors, anatomizers, Demodocus is a greater favorite\nthan Homer, indeed he has taken the place of Homer.\n\nMoreover the poet has plainly marked another stage, a stage between\nhimself and Demodocus. In the next Book Ulysses will begin singing and\ncontinue through four Books, giving his adventures in Fableland, which\nby itself possesses a certain completeness. Still it is but an organic\npart of the total Odyssey, whose poetical architect is Homer. Ulysses\nas singer is clearly higher than Demodocus; but Homer is above both,\nfor he takes both of them up into his unity, which is the all-embracing\npoem.\n\nMost emphatically, therefore, Homer shows himself not to be a\nDemodocus, not to be a ballad-singer, which is an essential point in\nthe Wolfian argument. Homer himself refutes Wolf some 2,500 years\nbeforehand, and his is still the best refutation. A careful study of\nthis Eighth Book settles the relation between balladist and poet by a\nsimple presentation of the facts in their proper co-ordination, and\nalso puts the alert reader on the track of the genesis of the Wolfian\n_Prolegomena_. For there can hardly be a doubt that Wolf, consciously\nor unconsciously, directly or indirectly, derived his main conception\nof Homer from the present Book and from the part that Demodocus, the\nbard, plays in it. To be sure, the idea that Demodocus, in a general\nway, is Homer, is old, coming down from antiquity and suggesting itself\nto the modern reader, who very naturally thinks that Homer is giving\nsome traits of himself in his picture of the blind singer. So much we\nmay grant: some traits of himself, but not all by any means; Homer\ndoubtless upon occasion could sing a short lay of Troy for the\namusement of his audience, like Demodocus; but in such a part he is\nonly a wee fragment of the author of those magnificent works, the Iliad\nand the Odyssey. The total Homer builds totalities, by the very\nnecessity of his genius.\n\nWho, then, according to the theory, put these ballads together? Wolf,\nfully possessed of the notion that Demodocus is Homer, starts to\naccount for the present form of the poems, which he assigns to the\nshaping hand of Peisistratus and his college of editors, critics, and\npoetasters. That is, the grand marvel of Homeric poetry, the mighty\nconstructive act thereof, he ascribes to a set of men essentially\nbarren and uncreative, for all of which he cites some very dubious and\ninadequate ancient authority.\n\nHere again we may be permitted to trace the Wolfian consciousness to\nits origin, for origin it has in time and circumstance. Wolf was a\nprofessor in a University, and his department was philology; his ideas\non Homer are really drawn from his vocation and his surroundings. Why\nshould he not make a philologer and a professor the author of the\nHomeric poems? So he came to imagine that the tyrant Peisistratus 500\nB.C. had under his patronage a kind of German University, or at least\na philological seminary, whose professors really constructed Homer as\nwe now have him, having put him together out of antecedent ballads\nwhich the actual Homer and many others may have made ages before. Wolf,\ntherefore, is the founder of two philological seminaries; one at the\nUniversity of Berlin, and the other at the court of Peisistratus. Great\nis the professor in smelling out the professor anywhere; still we\ncannot help thinking that what Wolf ascribed to the old Greek seminary,\nwas done only at his German seminary, namely, the patching together of\nHomer out of ballads.\n\n\n\n\n_FABLELAND._\n\n\nThe movement of the second grand division of the poem, the Ulyssiad,\nhas passed through two of its stages, which have been already\nconsidered; the third is now reached which we have called Fableland,\nthough it may be said that the two previous lands are also fabulous.\nLet it then be named the Fairy World, though this term also does not\nstate or suggest the fact with precision. Without troubling ourselves\nfurther about names, we shall proceed to seize the meaning by an\nexposition given in some detail.\n\nNo careful reader can doubt that the poem changes decidedly at the\npresent juncture in color, style, environment and purpose. What reason\nfor it? And what is the connection with the preceding portion of the\npoem? Four Books (IX-XII) of the same character essentially, unfold\nthemselves before us and demand a new kind of appreciation; they are\nnot idyllic, not epical; they form a class of a peculiar sort, which\nclass, however, we have before noticed in the Odyssey, showing itself\nin short but suggestive interludes.\n\nWe shall, accordingly, first grapple with the leading facts of this new\npoetic order and seek to interpret them, or rather let them interpret\nthemselves. Phaeacia, which we have just seen, lies before Fableland,\nthough the story of the latter is now told in Phaeacia.\n\n1. The first fact which strikes us is the decided contrast between the\ntwo realms. Phaeacia is the land of pure idyllic delight, its supreme\ncharacteristic is peace, its happy people seem to have no conflict;\nFableland, on the contrary, is one incessant course of strife, struggle\nand calamity, beginning with the unprovoked attack on the Ciconians.\nPolyphemus the savage Cyclops is the opposite of the civil ruler\nAlcinous; Circe, the enchantress, is the insidious foe to domestic life\nrepresented by Arete; State and Family in Phaeacia are counterbalanced\nby an anti-State and an anti-Family in Fableland. Thus man and woman\nare shown in the two different places as institutional and\nanti-institutional. Still deeper does the opposition reach; Phaeacia\nlies wholly in the Upperworld, with its sweet sunlight, while Fableland\nhas a dim Underworld, beyond the sunlight, the realm of the\nSupersensible; finally Fableland witnesses the supreme negative act of\nman, typified in the slaying of the Oxen of the Sun. We may, therefore,\naffirm that Fableland, as compared with Phaeacia, shadows forth the\nrealm of negation; the one stands for the ideal Greek world of ethical\norder and harmony; the other is the denial and destruction of the same.\n\nBut we must not omit the reverse side of the contrast. In Fableland\nthere is one continued striving of the human soul, a chafing against\nall limits, a moving forward from one stage to another; the spirit of\nman is shown transcending its bounds everywhere. In Phaeacia, however,\nthere is no striving apparently, it is contented with itself and stays\nwith itself, seeking no neighbors; it is the land of rest, of cessation\nfrom conflict, possibly of stagnation, unless it is stirred by inner\nscission.\n\nThe transition from Phaeacia to Fableland is, therefore, full of\nmeaning. It is possible that Ulysses or the poet wished to show these\npeople the struggles which were slumbering in their society, for all\ncivilized order has the possibility of them. The negative spirit will\nrise hereafter in their midst; so it rose in legendary Greece after the\nTrojan War, so it rose in historical Greece after the Persian War. Thus\nwe may catch a prophetic tinge in this web of marvelous tales. On the\nother hand, we should note also that Ulysses has reached the land of\npeace just through the realm of strife and negation.\n\n2. The next important thing is to observe how the poet is going to\nlocate, and environ this negative world. As it is the opposite of the\ncivilized order of Hellas, he throws it outside of Hellenic boundaries.\nOver the Greek border somewhere it has to be placed; thus it passes\neasily from the known to the unknown, out of the civilized to the\nbarbarous, out of the natural, to the supernatural.\n\nAll this we feel at once in the narrative. It is true that the first\ndestructive deed, the attack upon the Ciconians, occurs within the\nlimits of historical Hellas, in a region well known; but this act is\nthe prelude and the example, the offenders are at once borne to the\nLotus-eaters, who have the faintest touch of historical reality, and\nthence to Polyphemus who is wholly fabulous. In this realm of pure\nfable they stay till the end, having been cast out of Greece by the\npoet on account of their hostile spirit.\n\nMoreover we should note that they move about on the sea, that most\nunstable element, in contrast to the fixed land; on the one there is\norder and law, on the other caprice and violence. Yet certain fixed\npoints are set in this uncertain domain, namely the islands, which\nhowever, are wholly separated from Hellas and her life, and have\ninhabitants of their own, strangers to Hellenic influence. Ulysses and\nhis crew will pass from island to island, each of which will show its\nmeaning in some way antagonistic to Greek spirit. Out of the pale they\nall lie in the boundless billowy waters; thus the Odyssey in this part\nbecomes a sea poem, while in the other two parts it is essentially a\nland poem. The Greek was and still is a native of both sea and land\nwhich are physically interwined and bound together in Greece as in no\nother portion of the globe. His great poetical book envisages his\ncountry as well as himself.\n\nThe main point, however, is that Fableland being negative to the Greek\nworld is put outside of all of its known geographical limits, and thus\nbecomes the setting for the marvelous story. It may here be added that\nGrimm's Tales have a similar border which lies between civilized life\nand the forest, since the forest was, for our Teutonic ancestors, the\nfairy realm, in which their supernatural beings dwelt for the most\npart. Out of culture back to nature the human being sometimes has to go\nand have strange communings with the spirits there; such is often the\nmovement of the Fairy Tale. But who are these spirits or weird powers\ndwelling in the lone island or in the solitary wood?\n\n3. This question brings us to the pivotal fact of all Fableland: it is\nruled over by a new order of deities, not Olympians; the poet, throwing\nit out of Hellas below, throws it out of Olympus above. Indeed what\nelse could he do? The Gods of Greece are the protectors of its\ninstitutions, State and Family; they are the embodiment of its spirit,\nof its civilization. But a spirit is now portrayed which is negative to\nGreek spirit, which denies and defies it in its very essence; the\nresult is a new set of supernatural shapes which dominate the separated\nworld. The negation also must be seen taking on a plastic form, and\nappearing before the Greek imagination.\n\nThe deities of Fableland, or its supernatural powers, are therefore\nopposite to the deities of Olympus. Hence their shape is changed, they\ncan be even monstrosities, such as Polyphemus, the Laestrigonians,\nScylla and Charybdis. Circe and Calypso are beautiful women, yet not\nnatural women, in spite of their beauty; there is something superhuman\nabout them, divine, though they be not Olympians. Shapes of wonder they\nall seem, unreal, yet in intimate connection with mankind. Moreover\nthey are local, attached to a given spot, or island; they are not\nuniversal, they have no general sway like the Olympians; limited,\nconfined, particular is their authority, which the human being can and\nmust transcend.\n\nAt this point Olympus can descend into their world and give command.\nSo, after all, the Greek Gods rule over the realm which is negative to\nthem, must do so, else they were not Gods. But they are in a far-off\nbackground, namely, in civilized Hellas, beyond whose border Ulysses\npasses in these Books. Still Zeus, the supreme Greek God, sends his\ndecree to Calypso, when Ulysses is ready to leave the Dark Island. Thus\nthe Olympians exercise a final jurisdiction even here. It is to be\nnoticed, however, that Pallas has little to do with Ulysses in\nFableland; for is she not substantially negated? But when he touches\nGreece again, and even in Phaeacia, she will not fail to be at his side.\nShe belongs not to Wonderland, but to the clear rational realm of light\nand order; she cannot follow even her darling mortal through these dark\nmazy wanderings.\n\nIt is manifest that the epical Upper World of the Gods has receded from\nthe place it occupies in the Iliad and in the other portions of the\nOdyssey; in fact, it has been largely but not wholly supplanted. A new\norder of deities is portrayed, subordinate, yet authoritative in their\nlimited domain, which is cut off by the vast sea from united Hellas,\nand is thus made merely individual and anti-social by its situation.\n\nWhat are these shapes and why? Man has created them that he may\nindicate his own spiritual state when he has fallen out with the\nestablished order. Really they are phases of the development of the\nhero, who is reaching out through disbelief, denial, defiance, toward a\nrestoration. He is negative to the Greek consciousness, and this\nnegation takes shape by mind, yet has to be put down by mind. The whole\nprocess he projects out of himself into two lines of movement: the\nfirst is the row of preternatural forms arranged as if in a gallery of\nantique sculpture, the second is himself passing through these forms,\ngrappling with them, mastering them, or fleeing from them.\n\nSuch is this Fairy World which has crept in under the grand Olympian\norder in response to a true necessity. Its beings are not natural, its\nevents are not probable; thus the poet forces us to look inward if we\nwould see his meaning. Spirit is portraying spirit, and not\nexternality, which is here made absurd; in this manner we are driven\nout of the real into ideal, or we drop by the way in reading those four\nBooks.\n\n4. But it must not for a moment be thought that Homer created this\nFairy World or made, single-handed, these Fairy Tales. The latter are\nthe work of the people, possibly of the race. Comparative folk-lore has\ntraced them around the globe in one form or other. The story of\nPolyphemus is really a collection of stories gathered about one central\nperson; some portions of it have been found in the East as well as the\nWest, in Arabian and Tartar legend as well as in Celtic and Esthonian.\nThe subtle play upon the word \"nobody\" as a name is known far and wide\nby many people who never heard of Homer. Wilhelm Grimm took the trouble\nto collect a lot of examples from a great variety of sources, ancient,\nmedieval and modern, European and Asiatic, in a special treatise called\nthe Legend of Polyphemus. Circe, the enchantress, has been discovered\nin a Hindoo collection of Tales belonging in the main to the thirteenth\ncentury of our era; but the witch who has the power of turning men into\nanimals is as universal as folk-lore itself. The werewolf superstition\nwill furnish instances without number. The descent into Hades has its\nparallel in the Finnish epic _Kalevala_, which reaches far back into\nTuranian legend; even the North American and Australian savages have\ntheir heroes enter the world beyond, and bring back an account of what\nis there. Truly one of the earliest needs of the human soul is this\nstriving to find and to shadow forth in mythical outlines the realm of\nthe supersensible. Dante's Journey through Inferno goes back to Virgil,\nVirgil goes back to Homer, and Homer to the folk-tales of his people,\nand these folk-tales of Greece reach out to still more remote ages and\npeoples. Thus into Christian legend the old heathen stories are\ntransformed; many descents to Hell and Purgatory, as well as visions of\nHeaven are recorded in the Middle Ages. It may be said that folk-tales\nhave an ancestry as old as man himself, and have followed him\neverywhere as his spirit's own shadow, which he casts as his body casts\nits visible shadow.\n\nA collection of Fairy Tales we may, then, consider these four Books,\nwith its giants, cannibals, enchantresses, with its bag of winds, which\nis still furnished by the town-witch to the outgoing sailor in some\ncountries, if report be true. In fact, a little delving among the\npeople, who are the great depositories of folk-lore, would probably\nfind some of the stories of the Odyssey still alive, if not in their\ncompleteness, at least some shreds or floating gossamers thereof.\nIndestructible is the genuine tale when once made and accepted by the\npeople, being of their very essence; it is also the primordial material\nof which all true poetry is produced, it is nature's Parian marble of\nwhich the poetic temple of Greece is built, specially this Homeric\ntemple.\n\n5. At this point we begin to see just what is the function of Homer who\nhas inherited a vast mass of poetic material. He is its shaper,\norganizer, transformer; chiefly, however, he is the architect of the\nbeautiful structure of song. He does not and cannot make the stone\nwhich goes into his edifice, but he makes the edifice. His genius is\narchitectonic; he has an idea which he builds into harmonious measures.\nWhat the ages have furnished, he converts to his own use, and orders\ninto a poetic Whole.\n\nThe store of Fairy Tales in those four Books was unquestionably\ntransmitted to him, but he has jointed them into the Ulyssiad, and into\nthe total Odyssey, of whose structure they form the very heart. The\nquestion arises: Did Homer find those Tales already collected? Possibly\nhe did, to a certain extent; they seem to come together of themselves,\nmaking a marvelous romance of the sea. Some story-telling Greek sailor\nmay well have given him the thread of connection; certainly they are\nsprung of nautical experience. But in whatever shape they may come to\nthe poet, we may be certain of one thing: his constructive spirit\ntransformed them and put them into their present place, where they fit\nto perfection, forming a most important stage in the grand Return.\n\nIn the development of the folk-tale, we can in a general way mark three\ngrades. (1) There is first the story which sets forth the processes in\nnature, the clouds, the winds, the storms, the sun and moon, the\nconflict of the elements. Such is mainly the mythical character of the\nold Vedas. Many a trace of this ancient conception we can find in\nHomeric Fableland, which has a strong elemental substrate in the wrath\nof Neptune, in the tempests, in the winds of AEolus, in the Oxen of the\nSun. Still the Odyssey has passed far beyond this phase of mythical\nconsciousness; it cannot be explained by resolving it back into mere\nnature-myths, which method simply leaves out the vital fact, namely,\nthat of development. (2) In the second stage of the Fairy Tale the\nphysical meaning begins to withdraw into the background, and an ethical\nelement becomes dominant; the outer conflicts of nature, if they be\npresent, are taken to portray the spirit's struggle, in which a supreme\nmoral order of some kind is brought to light. Here we may well place\nGrimm's collection of folk-tales in many ways an epoch-making book. In\nthose simple stories of the people we observe the good and the bad\nmarked off distinctly and engaged in some kind of a wrestle, which\nshows at last the supremacy of the good. Not in every case perhaps, but\nsuch is the tendency. But these Tales of Grimm, though collected, are\nin no sense united; the architect never appeared, though they are the\nmaterial of a great Teutonic epos; they are the stones of the edifice,\nnot the edifice itself by any means. (3) Out of this second stage\neasily rises the third, the poet being given; whereof the best example\nis just those four Books of the Odyssey. Now the folk-tale stands not\nalone, in widowed solitariness, but is made to take its place in the\ngreat national, or perchance universal temple of song.\n\nWe may say, therefore, that Homer not only gathered these Tales but\norganized them into a Whole, so that they no longer fall asunder into\nseparate narratives, but they are deftly interwoven and form a great\ncycle of experience. No segment of this cycle can be taken away without\nbreaking the totality. Moreover the entire series is but an organic\npart of the Odyssey.\n\nIt is now manifest that those who resolve these Tales into a\ndisconnected bead-roll have really fallen back into the second stage\nbefore mentioned; they have undone the work of Homer. If these four\nBooks be simply a string of stories without an inner movement from one\nto the other, or without any organic connection with the rest of the\npoem, the entire poetic temple is but a pile of stones and no edifice.\nAnd this is what Wolf and his disciples make out of Homer. In one way\nor other they tear asunder the structure and transform it backwards in\na collection, allowing it hardly as much unity as may be found in the\nCanterbury Tales of Chaucer. A school more recent than that of Wolf,\nthe Comparative Philologists, have gone still further backwards, and\nhave reduced Homer to the first stage, to a nature-myth. The merit of\nboth schools is that they have called attention to Homer's primitive\nmaterials; they have rendered impossible the idea that Homer created\nthe Greek Gods or his mythology, or even his little stories. The defect\nof these schools is that they fail to see the architectonic Homer, the\npoet who builds the crude materials furnished by his people into an\nenduring structure of the noblest art. They recognize in the edifice\nthe stone and also the stone-cutter, but no master-builder.\n\nHomer, therefore, is not merely the editor, collector, redactor; he is\nnot a Grimm, gathering his tales from the mouths of the people with a\nscientific accuracy. He gathered them, doubtless, but he transfigured\nthem into an image reflecting the experience of a human soul. Our age\nis indeed scientific, it is collecting the folk-songs and the\nfolk-tales from every quarter of the globe, and stringing them on a\nthread, like so many beads, not being able to transmute them into\npoetry. Wolf heralded the coming time by starting to reconvert Homer\ninto his primitive materials, by making him scientific and not poetic,\nat least not architectonic. Still we may be permitted to hope that\nthese vast collections of the world's folk-lore will yet be transmuted\nby some new Homer into a world-poem.\n\n6. The careful reader will also weigh the fact that Ulysses is now the\nstory-teller himself. The entire series of adventures in Fableland is\nput into his mouth by the poet. Herein, we note a striking difference\nfrom the previous Book, the ninth, in which Demodocus is the singer.\nWhat is the ground of such a marked transition? Demodocus has as his\ntheme the war at Troy with its lays of heroes, and its famous deeds; he\ncelebrates the period portrayed in the Iliad; his field is the Heroic\nEpos, or the songs of which it is composed. But he cannot sing of the\nworld outside of the Greco-Trojan consciousness, he cannot reach beyond\nthe Olympian order into the new set of deities of Fableland. Ulysses,\nhowever, has transcended the Trojan epoch, has, in fact, reacted\nagainst Hellenic life and institutions, though he longs to get back to\nthem, out of his alienated condition. This internal phase Demodocus\ndoes not know, it manifestly lies beyond his art. He does not sing of\nthe Return at all, though Phemius, the Ithacan bard, did in the First\nBook. A new strain is this, requiring a new singer, namely the man who\nhas had the wonderful experience himself.\n\nThe result is, another art-form has to be employed, the Fairy Tale, of\nwhich we have already spoken. The individual now turns inward and\nnarrates his marvelous adventures in the region of spirit, his\nwrestlings there, his doubts, his defeats and escapes. For Fableland is\nnot actual like Hellas, not even like Phaeacia; it is a creation of the\nmind in order to express mind, and its shapes have to be removed from\nsensuous reality to fulfill the law of their being. Such is plainly\nHomer's procedure. Once before he sped off into Fairyland, toward Egypt\nand the East, leaving Hellas and Troy behind, quite as Ulysses here\ndoes. It was the story of Menelaus in the Fourth Book, who also found\nProteus and Eidothea, a new order of deities, though Olympus and Zeus\nlay in the distant background. Moreover, Proteus and Eidothea represent\nthe two sides, the supersensible and the sensible, the latter of which\nmust be transcended and the former grasped, ere return be possible.\n\nNestor also tells his own experience in the Third Book, but he keeps\ninside of Hellas and under the direct control of the Greek Gods. Hence\nno Faery Realm rises in his narrative, he needs none for\nself-expression. But Menelaus and Ulysses, wandering far over the Greek\nborder, reach a new world, and require a new art-form for their\nadequate utterance. Especially is this the case with Ulysses, who has\nhad a much larger and deeper experience than Menelaus, and who thus\nstands in strong contrast with Nestor, the old man of faith with his\ndevotion to the old order, who has no devious return from Troy, and\ncontinues to live in immediate unquestioning harmony with the\nOlympians. There is no room in Pylos for a Circe or a Polyphemus.\n\nUlysses, therefore, having reached the court of Phaeacia, takes a calm\nretrospect of the past, and recounts the same to the people there; he\ncomes to know himself, and he uses art for self-expression, not for the\npraise of the external deed of war; his inner life is the theme. In\nother words, he has become self-conscious in Phaeacia, he knows his own\nprocesses, and shows that he knows them. As already pointed out, this\ninternal movement of his spirit is the process of the negative, he has\nturned denier of the old institutional order of Greece, and he has to\nwork through into a positive world again, which he now sees before\nhimself in Phaeacia.\n\nTo be sure, the self-consciousness to which he has attained is not\nexpressed in the language of philosophy, but in poetry, in a\ntranscendental Fairyland. There is as yet no Greek language of\nphilosophy; a long development will bring it forth however; Aristotle\nwill deracinate the last image of Homer, and leave the Greek tongue\nsupersensible.\n\n7. The fact that Ulysses must tell his own story is deeply coupled with\nthe following characteristic: these four Books of Fableland are\nessentially a confession. From beginning to end we observe it to be an\naccount of shortcomings and their results; we find the acknowledgment\nof error in the very statement of the transaction. He confesses to\nAlcinous and the Phaeacians his negative attitude to the State and the\nconsequences thereof; he confesses to Arete in what way he has violated\nher institution. Here lies the necessity: this confession is absolutely\nneedful to his soul to free it of its negative past. He has become\nconscious of his condition, and utters his confession to these people\nwho are the opposite of it, and thus gets rid of his limitation. The\npsychologic ground of his telling his own story is that he must.\n\nTo be sure, this is all done in a mythical form, which is somewhat\nalien to our method of making a confession. Then Homer does not\nmoralize by the way, he does not usually approve or condemn; he simply\nstates the deed and its consequences. His procedure is objective, truly\nartistic, letting the thing speak for itself. The modern reader,\nhowever, likes to have moral observations interspersed, which will stir\nup his sentiments, and save him the trouble of thinking the matter out\nfor himself.\n\nYet Ulysses, on the other hand, is always striving to reach out of his\nerror, to transcend his limitation. His mistake flings him to the\nearth, but he gets up again and marches forward. Thus he asserts his\nown infinite worth; he is certain to reach home at last and accomplish\nthe grand Return.\n\nBut he does not bring back his companions. These often seem to be lower\nunheroic phases of human nature, which the hero must throw off in the\ncourse of his development. In general, they may be considered to be in\nhim, a part of himself, yet they are real persons too. This rule,\nhowever, will not always apply. Still his companions are lost, having\n\"perished by their own folly,\" while he is saved; the wise man is to\nlive, the unwise to pass away.\n\nThe pivotal sin committed by Ulysses in Fableland is against Neptune,\nwho is angry because Ulysses put out the eye of his son Polyphemus. So\nthe God, after the affair of the Oxen of the Sun, becomes the grand\nobstacle to the Return, and helps to keep the hero with Calypso. Such\nis the mythical statement in which three conceptions seem to blend. (1)\nNeptune is the purely physical obstacle of the sea, very great in those\nearly days. (2) Nature has her law, and if it be not observed, the\npenalty follows, when she may be said to be mythically angry. If a man\njump down from a high precipice, he violates a law of nature,\ngravitation, and she executes him on the spot, it may be; she is always\nangry and quick to punish in such cases; but he may climb down the\nheight and escape. In like manner a man, undertaking to swim across the\nsea, encounters the wrath of Neptune; but he may construct a ship, and\nmake the voyage. (3) Finally there is the ethical violation: we shall\nsee in the narrative, how Ulysses, after appealing to humanity, becomes\nhimself inhuman and a savage toward Polyphemus, who then curses him and\ninvokes father Neptune with effect. So the God visits upon Ulysses the\npunishment for his ethical offense, which is the main one after all. In\nthis way Fableland through the story of Polyphemus contains a leading\nmotive of the Ulyssiad, and thereby of the whole Odyssey, and Ulysses\nis seen to be detained really by his own deed.\n\n8. The general structure of these four Books is simple enough. They\nform a series of adventures, with three to a Book. Though the\nconnection seems slight on the surface, there are inner threads which\nbind intimately together the separate adventures; one of the points in\nany true interpretation is to raise these threads to light. The general\nmovement of the whole may be regarded as threefold: the sensible world\n(two Books), the supersensible Hades (one Book), the sensible world a\nsecond time (one Book). Very significant are these changes, but it is\nhardly worth while to forecast them here; they must be studied in\ndetail first, then a retrospect can be given, as the contents of the\nfour Books will be present in the reader's mind. We may now say,\nhowever, that this sweep from the sensible into the supersensible, and\nback again to the sensible, has in it the meaning of a soul's\nexperience, and that the second sensible realm here mentioned is very\ndifferent from the first.\n\nThe central fact of Fableland is, accordingly, that the man must get\nbeyond the realm of the senses, and hold communion with pure spirit,\nwith the prophet Tiresias, and then come back to the real world,\nbringing the wisdom gained beyond, ere he can complete the cycle of the\ngrand Return.\n\n\n\n\n_BOOK NINTH._\n\n\nUlysses is now called for by Alcinous, and he is to be the singer. At\nfirst he naturally pays a compliment to his predecessor Demodocus: \"A\npleasant thing to hear a bard such as this,\" with a voice like unto\nthat of the Gods. Then he gives a delicate touch of commendation to the\nwhole people \"sitting in a row and listening to the singer\" who is\nchanting the famous deeds of the aforetime. But when Ulysses praises\nthe tables laden with bread and meat, and the cupbearer filling the\nwine-cups of the guests, saying, \"This seems to me the best thing,\"\nstrong opposition has been aroused, shown even in antiquity by the\nsharp protest of Plato and Lucian. Still this Phaeacian enjoyment is\ninnocent enough; not ascetic is the trait, yet not sensual; to-day good\npeople usually eat and drink without the song of bard or other\nspiritual entertainment accompanying the material one of gustation.\n\nNow comes the change, Ulysses is to give a song, he is to sing his own\ndeeds, the story of his trials, \"which will wake fresh sorrow in me.\"\nClearly this will be a different song from the preceding one of\nDemodocus; not now an heroic tale of Troy, but an account of the Return\ntherefrom; a tale in which endurance is the theme rather than action.\nThe hero is more the sufferer than the doer; he is to meet the hostile\nblows of Fate and to master it by his ability to bear as well as by his\nability to act. A new poetic form will gradually rise out of the theme\nand in harmony with the same; the present movement runs counter to the\nTrojan story both in space and in spirit.\n\nThe first act of Ulysses in this novel procedure is to be duly noted:\nhe declares who he is, gives his father's name and utters a hint of his\nown character. Very great surprise must the announcement have created\namong those Phaeacians--a veritable sensation, as we say in these times;\nfor Ulysses had been the real hero of the songs of Demodocus just sung;\nbehold, that hero himself is present and has been listening all the\nwhile. The dramatic disguise, in which the interest of the hearer has\ncentered hitherto, is thrown off, the concealed man shows himself.\n\nStill deeper must we look into this act of self-revelation. \"I am\nUlysses,\" says the bard now, proposing to sing of Ulysses. I am myself,\nI know what I have done and I am the man to tell it. Really here is a\nstatement of self-consciousness; the singer is no longer a Demodocus\nsinging of another man, of Ulysses, at Troy, but it is Ulysses himself,\nnow singing of himself, of his profoundest experiences, which none\nother but he can tell. His internal life opens, not that active heroic\none; the trials of his spirit are the theme, therewith must follow a\nnew manner of utterance, a poetic form which can express what is within\nand still remain in the domain of the imagination. A self-conscious art\nwe must now be prepared for, which seeks to express just the\nself-consciousness of the poet going through his inner experiences,\nwith the counterstroke from the outer world.\n\nWhat new art-form, then, will Homer, the grand constructive poet, who\nseizes every object necessary for his temple of song, assign to Ulysses\nsinging of himself? The Fairy Tale is taken with its strange\nsupernatural shapes, which have no reality, and hence can only have an\nideal meaning; we are ushered into the realm of the physically\nimpossible, where we have to see the spiritually actual, if we see\nanything. Polyphemus is not a man, not an animal, not a direct product\nof nature; he is a creature of the mind made by the mind in order to\nexpress mind. Undoubtedly he has external shape, but that shape is\nmeaningless till we catch the spirit creating him. The Fairy Tale\nremoves the vision from an outer sensuous world, and compels an\ninternal vision, which looks into the soul of things and there beholds\nthe soul.\n\nThe Fairy Tale existed long before Homer, it is a genuine product of\nthe people. The stories which here follow have been traced among the\nremotest races; they spring up of themselves out of the popular heart\nand imagination. Homer picks them up and puts them into their true\nplace in his grand edifice, polishing, transforming them, by no means\ncreating them; certainly he never created this art-form. His merit is\nthat he saw where they belong and what phase of human experience they\nexpress; to this merit must be added his special power, that of poetic\ntransfiguration. Not simply a redactor or putter together externally of\nodd scraps, but the true architect of the totality; thus he comes\nbefore us on the present and on all other occasions.\n\nUlysses, having told us who he is, proceeds to inform us of a second\nimportant fact: his soul's strongest aspiration. He longs to return to\nhome and country. Ithaca, a small, rocky island, is the sweetest spot\non earth to him; Circe and then Calypso tried to detain him, each\nwishing to keep him as husband; \"but they could not shake the purpose\nof my heart.\" One thinks that he must, while saying this, have cast a\nsly glance at Arete, for whose approval it must have been intended, for\nshe was no friend of Circe and Calypso.\n\nIt is a curious fact that Homer, in this short description, makes two\nmistakes in reference to the topography of Ithaca. The island can\nhardly be called low as here stated, nor does it lie westward of\nCephallenia, but northeastward. A reasonable inference is that Homer\nwas not an Ithacan, and did not know the island very well, though he\nmay have seen it in a passing visit. Anaximander with his first map\ncomes after Homer several hundred years.\n\nThe present Book has three plainly marked portions. First comes the\nwanton attack on the Ciconians, which connects immediately with the\nTrojan experience of Ulysses. Second is the country of the\nLotus-eaters, to which he and his companions are driven by wind and\nstorm. Third is the Land of the Cyclops, especially of Polyphemus, with\nwhom he has his chief adventures. The first two portions are quite\nbrief, are in fact introductory to the third, which takes up more than\nfour-fifths of the Book, and is the Fairy Tale proper. We may observe\nthe gradual transition: the Ciconians are a real people in geography\nand history; the Lotus-eaters are getting mythical, are but half-way\nhistorical; the Cyclops belong wholly to Fableland. Thus there is a\nmovement out of the Trojan background of reality into the Fairy World.\n\nHaving marked the dividing lines, the next thing will be to find the\nconnecting links between these three portions. They are not thrown\ntogether haphazard or externally joined into one Book; they have an\ninternal thought which unifies them and which must be brought to light.\nThe poet sees in images which are separate, but the thinker must unite\nthese images by their inner necessity, and thus justify anew the poet.\n\n\nI.\n\nThe first sentence strikes the leading thought: \"The wind, bearing me\nfrom Troy, brought me to the Ciconians.\" Troy is the starting-point,\nthe background out of which everything moves. After the fall of the\ncity Nestor gives an account of the disputes of the Greek leaders and\ntheir separation (Book III. l. 134 et seq.); Ulysses is driven alone\nwith his contingent across the sea toward Thrace, where he finds a city\nin peace, though it had been an ally of Troy. \"I sacked the city, I\ndestroyed its people;\" he treated them as he did the Trojans, \"taking\nas booty their wives and property.\" Such is the spirit begotten of that\nten years' war in the character of Ulysses, a spirit of violence and\nrapine, totally unfitted for a civilized life, at bottom negative to\nFamily and State. This is the spiritual starting-point from which he is\nto return to home and country through a long, long, but very needful\ndiscipline.\n\nHe is well aware that he has done something for which vengeance awaits\nhim, so he urges his companions to flee at once. But they would not\nobey, they stayed there \"drinking much wine and slaughtering sheep and\noxen along the sea-shore.\" Revel and feasting follow, till the\nCiconians rouse the outlying neighbors and drive the Greeks to the\nships, with the loss of six companions for each ship. Such is the first\nincident after the Trojan War, showing clearly the destructive phase\nthereof, which has been drilled into the character by so long a period\nof bloodshed.\n\nThis is not yet Fairyland, but a real people and a real conflict. The\nCiconians in the later historic time of Herodotus still dwelt in\nThrace. Grotius in his famous book _On the Rights of Peace and War_\ncites the present instance as a violation of international justice. The\ngrand positive ground of attacking Troy is not found here; there was no\nHelen detained in wrongful captivity. The sack of Ismarus pictures the\nevil results which spring from all war, even the most just. Again we\nmust affirm that this deed of wrongful violence is the start toward the\ngreat Return, and hints what has to be overcome internally by the\njourney through Fairyland.\n\nLater we find a fact, not here mentioned, pertaining to the sack of the\ncity of the Ciconians. Ulysses had saved Maron, the priest of Apollo,\nwho in gratitude gave him the strong wine with which he overcame\nPolyphemus in the cave. His merciful deed thus helped him conquer the\nmonster of nature. But in general it is plain that Ulysses, though\ndesiring to get back to an institutional life, is not ready by any\nmeans for such a step; he is in reality hostile to the very essence of\ninstitutional life. He is too much like the suitors now to be their\npunisher.\n\nAll put to sea again, to be tossed on that unruly element, with their\nlittle vessels exposed to wind and wave. \"They call thrice by name each\none of their dead companions\" ere they set out; the meaning of this\ninvocation has been much discussed, but it probably rests upon the\nbelief that they could thus call the souls of the deceased to go along\nwith them to home and country. The fact that just six were lost from\neach ship was made the ground of an assault upon Homer in antiquity by\nZoilus, famed as the Homeromastix, or Homer's trouncer.\n\nThe great sea with its tempests is now before them, heaving and\ntossing; after the attack upon the Ciconians we can well imagine that\nthis storm has its inner counterpart in the soul of Ulysses. Does he\nnot show within himself a deep scission--between his desire to return\nand his deed? At any rate he is borne forward; when he sought to round\nMaleia, the southern point of Greece (now Cape St. Angelo), and sail\nhome to Ithaca, he was carried out to sea by the winds, beyond the\nIsland Cythera, across the main toward the coast of Africa. Thus he is\nswept outside the boundaries of Hellas proper into a region dimly\nknown, half-mythical; he cannot make the sharp turn at Maleia, inside\nthe Greek world; he must go beyond it and there reach his final\nexperience. Not simply physical is this description, else it would be a\nmere statement in geography; it is also spiritual and hence rises into\npoetry.\n\n\nII.\n\nNext is the land of the Lotus-eaters, where Ulysses and his companions\narrive, after being driven helplessly \"across the fishy deep\" for nine\ndays (this is a favorite number in Homer) by the hostile winds. The\nLotus-eaters, \"whose food is flowers\" use no violence, but reach to the\nnew-comers their plant, the lotus, to satisfy hunger. Whoever has once\ntasted of that pleasant food, straightway forgets home and the Return,\nand wishes to live always among the Lotus-eaters. The will is broken,\nall activity is sapped; the land of idlers it is, relaxed in a sensuous\ndream life, in which there is a complete collapse of volition.\n\nNow the point is to connect this country with the Ciconians, or rather\nto see this internal condition evolving itself out of the preceding\none. For the line of conjunction must be within, of the spirit;\nphysically the two countries are far enough apart. In the first case,\nwe have noted a state of external violence, which really means a\ndestroying of the will. The Greeks assailed a quiet people, assailed\nits will; then they were beaten and driven off, they had their negative\ndeed served up to themselves. Now what? There follows an internal\ncollapse of the will, a logical result of their own conduct, which is\nhinted by their being drifted about on the seas, apparently quite\nhelpless. No wonder that, when they touched land again, and obtained\nsome food, they desired to stay there, and eat of the lotus. Yet it is\nthe consequence of their own act; that wanton destruction of the\nCiconian will is at bottom the destruction of their own will; they are\nreally assailing their own principle--a fact which is to be brought\nhome to them by a long and bitter experience.\n\nBut there is one man among them, who, though not guiltless by any\nmeans, felt the nature of the Ciconian act, and who has still some\nvolition left in the right direction. \"By force I led back to the ship\nthose who had tasted of the lotus, and bound them beneath the\noar-benches.\" The rest of the companions were ordered aboard, they\nobeyed; off they sail again on the hoary deep--whitherward? Thus\nUlysses shows himself the man of will among the will-less, and solves\nhis part of the problem among the Lotus-eaters, setting out for the new\nUnknown.\n\nThis people probably lived on the coast of Lybia according to Homer's\nconception, though the land is outside the clear Greek geographical\nhorizon, floating mistily somewhere on its borders, half real, half\nfabulous, on the way to Fairyland. We enter more distinctly the inner\nrealm of the spirit, as the outer realm of reality becomes less\ndistinct and demonstrable. The Ciconians were an actual people, the\nconflict with them also actual, quite the Trojan conflict; but the\nLotus-eaters form the transition to the Wonderland of the Odyssey.\n\nAs regards the lotus, several plants were called by that name; one is\nmentioned in a previous Book of the Odyssey (IV. 603) which was\nprobably a kind of clover growing in the damp lowlands of Greece and\nAsia Minor, and utilized for grazing. Another sort was a species of\nlily which grew in the valley of the Nile. But the lotus of the present\npassage is generally considered to be the fruit of a shrub which yields\na reddish berry of the size of a common olive, having somewhat the\ntaste of a fig. This fruit is still highly esteemed in Tripolis, Tunis\nand Algiers; from the last named country it has passed over to France,\nand is often hawked about the streets of Paris under the name of\n_Jujube_, where the passing traveler will purchase a sample, and eat of\nthe same, testing the truth of Homer's description, but probably not\nlosing thereby his desire for home and country.\n\nThe Lotus-eaters have had a famous history; they have caught the fancy\nof poets and literary men who have sought in various ways to reproduce\nand embellish them. Among English-speaking peoples the poem of Tennyson\non this subject is a prime favorite. But in Homer the Lotus-eaters are\nnot an isolated fact, they are a link in the chain of a grand\ndevelopment; this inner connecting thought is the true thing to grasp.\n\nLet us, then, penetrate the heart of the next movement of Ulysses. The\nLotus-eater gave up family and country; \"chewing the lotus, he forgot\nthe return.\" His will vanished into a sensuous oblivion; he was\nindifferent, and this indifference was a passive destruction of the\nGreek world to which he was returning. But now in due order the active\ndestroyer of that world appears; behold the Cyclops, the wild man of\nnature, truly a monster to the Greek institutional sense, being without\ndomestic and civil order. Thus we mark the inner transition: the active\nprinciple of that which was a passive Lotus-eater is the Cyclops, a\nPolyphemus. The Trojan negative result, so deeply lodged in the soul of\nUlysses and his companions, cannot remain mere indifference or\nforgetfulness; it must proceed to action, to virulent destructive\naction, which is now to be bodied forth in a fabulous shape. Only a few\nof the weakest companions of Ulysses were ready to become Lotus-eaters,\nand they were easily thrust under the oar-benches and carried away.\nHere there is a fresh conflict, altogether the main one of the present\nBook.\n\n\nIII.\n\nIf then we have seized the matter aright, we have reached a shape in\nFairyland, which represents what is hostile, actively hostile, to the\nGreek institutional world, State, Family, Society. Ulysses stands in a\ndouble relation to the present condition of things. The Cyclops is\nreally a picture of him in his negative character, a product of his\ndestructive Trojan spirit, yet he is just the man who must put down the\nCyclops, he must master his own negation or perish. Ulysses sees the\nnatural man, or rather, he sees himself with all culture taken away,\nwith all institutional life eliminated from his existence.\n\nHe may well be frightened at the monster, who is very real, though a\ndweller in Fairyland. Nor should we forget that the Cyclops also\nundergoes a change, he too is in the process and shows something like\ndevelopment under the severe tuition of Ulysses.\n\nAs already said, the present portion is altogether the longest in the\nBook, it is essentially the entire Book. The other two portions were\nhardly more than a short introduction and a brief transitional stage;\nnow comes the full and highly elaborated tale, in which both the land\nand its inhabitants are fabulous, supernatural. There are two distinct\ndivisions treating of the Cyclops: the first describes their race in\ngeneral, the second gives a description of the particular grand\nCyclops, Polyphemus, in his conflict with Ulysses.\n\nI. This time there is no tempest, such as arose after leaving the\nCiconians, in order to reach the land of the Cyclops; that collapse of\nthe will seems to have pictured itself in the quiet deep. But who are\nthe Cyclops? A race \"without law, addicted to violent deeds;\" they have\nno agriculture, \"they plant not, neither do they plow;\" they get their\nproducts, \"trusting to the Gods,\" that is, trusting to nature, since\nthe Cyclops have small regard for the higher Gods, as we shall soon\nsee. Another mere formula this, showing that the Homeric deity was\ngetting crystallized even for Homer. \"They hold no councils\" in common,\nare not associated together, but \"they dwell in vaulted caves on\nmountain heights,\" such as the famous Corycian cavern which is near the\ntop of a mountain on Parnassus. There \"each man rules his wives and\nchildren,\" evidently a herding polygamous condition of the family; \"nor\ndo they (the Cyclops) care for one another.\" Still further, \"they have\nno ships with crimson prows,\" no navigation, no commerce which seeks\n\"the cities of men\" and binds them together in the bond of society and\nhumanity. Yet there is an excellent harbor and a good soil, \"with\ncopious showers from Zeus;\" nature has surely done her part, and is\ncalling loudly for the enterprising colonist to come and plant here his\ncivilized order. This passage must have stirred the Greek emigrant to\nleave his stony Hellas and seek in the West, a new home; it suggests\nthe great Hellenic movement for the colonization of Italy and Sicily\nfrom the 6th to the 9th century B.C. The poet has plainly been with\nthe frontiersman, and seen the latter's giants.\n\nThe main thing to be noticed in the present account is the\nextraordinary number of negatives. No laws, no assemblies, no\nassociation; no plows, no ships, no intercourse with other cities; the\nwhole civilized life of man is negated, and man himself is thrown back\ninto a state of nature. It is worth while to search for the purpose of\nthis negative procedure on the part of the poet. He might have given a\npositive description of nature, telling what it is, and telling what\nthe Cyclops is, not emphasizing so much what he is not. But thus the\nmeaning would not come out so plainly; the Cyclops is just the negation\nof the whole civilized world of Greece, which fact must be expressly\nimaged in the very words used in the poem. He is not so much a simple\nbeing of nature as a being antithetic to society.\n\nAt this point we can trace his connection with the great Trojan\nexperience, which, as already set forth, has begotten a negative\ntendency in its participators. The war at Troy, like all war\nlong-continued, has bred men to be anti-social; they have to destroy\nState, Family, Commerce, Agriculture, till destruction becomes habit,\nyea principle, and takes possession of their intellect. The Cyclops was\ngenerated at Ilium, and is a colossal phantasm of the spirit which\nprompted the attack on the Ciconians.\n\nIt should be stated here that the Cyclops of Homer are different from\nthose of Hesiod and of other mythographers, inasmuch as the latter were\nrepresented as the demons who forged the thunderbolts of Zeus, and were\nconnected with the volcanic agencies chiefly in Sicily and Italy. Mount\nAEtna belching forth its lava streams may have suggested to the Greek\nimagination the sick giant Polyphemus in its caverns, drunk on the red\ndestructive wine of Ulysses.\n\nFirst is a small island, \"stretching outside the harbor\" of the land of\nthe Cyclops, woody, full of wild goats; there the ships of Ulysses drew\nto the shore. It was bare of human dwellers, the Cyclops had no boats\nto reach it; a good place for stopping, therefore, quite out of reach\nof the savages. Nor is the fountain forgotten, \"sparkling water flowing\nfrom a hollow rock down to the harbor\"--an adjunct still necessary to\nevery Greek village or encampment. \"Some God led us through the dark\nnight\" without our seeing the island till the boats struck it--surely a\nprovidential intervention on our behalf.\n\nLeaving behind the other ships at this point, Ulysses takes only his\nown and its crew, and goes forth to \"test these people, whether just or\nunjust, hospitable or godless.\" He cannot rest in ignorance, he must\nhave the experience and know the unknown. He soon sees \"a cave high up\nthe mountain, not far from the sea, overarched with laurel shrubs;\" he\nobserves also \"an enclosure, made of stones set in the earth;\" these\nstones are not hewn (as some translators say), since the so-called\nCyclopean walls so common in Greece were not built by this kind of\nCyclops. In the enclosure were resting \"many herds of sheep and\ngoats\"--just such a scene as can be witnessed in the rural parts of\nGreece to-day. This is the environment of \"the man-monster,\" who is now\nto be the theme of song.\n\nII. Polyphemus is a Cyclops but he has characteristics of his own. He\nhas no family in his cave, he lives wholly for himself apparently; he\nseems to be the largest of his race, \"like no man who lives by bread;\"\nhe towers alone \"like the peak of a high mountain shaggy with woods;\"\napart from others \"he plans his unjust deeds.\" A portentous shape with\nbut a single eye in his head, a cave-dweller similar to the primitive\nman; he has too an evil disposition in his huge bulk.\n\nThis is the being with whom Ulysses is now to engage in conflict, which\nbecomes highly dramatic. The conquest of the man of Nature by the man\nof Intelligence--such is the theme through its various fluctuations.\nThis man of Nature, however, we are always to consider from his\nnegative side, as hostile to a civilized order; so the poet has\ncarefully represented him. He is to be put down; yet even Polyphemus\nhas his right, he is brought to a gleam of self-knowledge, and Ulysses\nhas to pay the penalty of his deed, which has also its curse. A very\ndeep current runs through the poem in this part, which we shall divide\ninto five different scenes, hoping thus to make its movement and\nthought somewhat more distinct.\n\n1. Ulysses, taking twelve of his bravest companions from his ship, not\nforgetting a goatskin of wonderful wine, for he had a presentiment that\nhe would meet a huge wild man, who is wont to succumb readily to\ncivilized drink, enters the cave while Polyphemus is absent. A vivid\npicture of that primitive dairy with its cheese, milk, curds; the men\nfell to and helped themselves, as was natural. Then the companions\nwished to depart at once, taking what quantity of cheese they could\ncarry, but Ulysses refused, he must \"see the Cyclops and test his\nhospitality.\" Just the opposite was the case in the land of the\nCiconians; there Ulysses wished to flee but his companions would not.\nWhy this difference? He must know Polyphemus, must see the giant and\nsubordinate him; that is just his supreme necessity now, he really can\nno more run away from the monster than from himself. But that attack on\nthe Ciconians was an unjust, violent deed of which the penalty was sure\nto follow; this Ulysses knew and sought to escape. In the present case,\nhowever, no wrong has been done as yet, and he must meet and solve his\nproblem, while his weaker companions would shun the trial.\n\nPolyphemus returns with his herds in due time, and closes the mouth of\nthe cave with a huge rock, \"which not two and twenty wains could move\nfrom the threshold.\" Soon by the light of his fire he sees the lurking\nstrangers and asks, \"Who are you?\" Ulysses replies, stating that they\nare returning from Troy, but have been driven out of their way by\nadverse winds; then he makes his human and religious appeal: We come as\nsuppliants, receive us; \"revere the Gods,\" specially Zeus the protector\nof suppliants. But the Cyclops scoffs at Zeus and the rest of the Gods:\n\"we are their betters.\" Thus is witnessed in the monster the denial of\nthe Greek religion, and an atheistic turn of mind.\n\nNext follows in logical sequence his supreme negative act, he is a\nman-eater. \"He seized two of my companions and hurled them against the\nground as if they were dogs, then he devoured them piecemeal,\nswallowing all--entrails and flesh and marrowy bones.\" Surely Ulysses\nis getting some experience on the line of that Trojan deed.\n\nNow we catch the entire sweep of this particular Cyclops. He has shown\nhimself as the representative of three mighty negations: of civilized\nlife, of religious life, and of human life. He destroys man, feeds on\nhim; so negation, war, revolution, must do in the end. The horrid\nphantasm is the true image of the destroyer of the race. Nor does he\nbelong to the old Greek world and to the Trojan time only; he is among\nus, and he can be translated into modern terms quite familiar.\nPolyphemus is an anarchist, an atheist, and a cannibal; the ancient\npoet wraps the three together in one mighty monstrosity. In the morning\nthe Cyclops devoured two more companions for his breakfast, then drove\nhis flocks afield, leaving the rest of the strangers shut up in the\ncave with the big stone in the opening.\n\nDuring the day the \"man of many shifts\" has an opportunity for\nreflection in that dark recess. He dares not kill the giant outright,\n\"with my sharp sword stubbing him where the midriff holds the liver,\"\nfor how could they then get out? No, the man of nature must be saved\nand utilized; with all his might he is to be overborne by the man of\nintelligence, and made to remove the big stone.\n\n2. The plan of Ulysses with its successful execution is the subject of\nthe next phase of the conflict. By this plan three things must be done\nin order to counteract the giant and to negative his power. He must be\ndeprived of physical vision, which becomes the more easily possible\nfrom the fact that he has but one eye; if he had two eyes like the\nordinary man, he could still see though one be put out. That this\npurpose be accomplished, he must somehow be shorn of his physical\nstrength; finally any resistance which might come from the rest of the\nCyclops outside must be rendered nugatory. Such are the three chief\npoints of the impending problem, which Ulysses has to meet and does\nmeet with astonishing skill and foresight; the Cyclops is blinded, is\nmade helpless by drink, and is befooled by a pun.\n\nUlysses burns out the eye of the monster with the charred end of a\nstick of olive wood, which he prepares beforehand; huge Round-eye (the\nmeaning of the word _Cyclops_) has no eye now. Ulysses by means of that\nmiraculous wine, product of culture, makes the giant drunk, who thus\nloses his physical superiority. The Ithacan evidently knew, as well as\nthe American, the power of fire-water over the wild man; that the wine\nhad some strength, is shown by the fact that one cup of it had to be\ndiluted with twenty measures of water, when taken by ordinary mortals.\nNot without significance does the exhilarated Cyclops laud this\ncivilized wine in contrast to that of the wild grapes of his own land.\n\nBut the third scheme of Ulysses is the most subtle of all, and touches\nthe heart of the whole problem, though it be merely a pun. He calls\nhimself Nobody to Polyphemus, who, without sight or insight, is the\nvictim of a word. For a complete man must have not only a double sight\nfrom his eyes, but a double insight from his mind, seeing before and\nafter in the latter case especially. The result is when the other\nCyclops, roused by the cries of Polyphemus, ask him from outside the\ncave: What is the matter? he answers, Nobody is killing me. Whereat off\nthey go, dropping a word or two of cold advice, or perchance of\nsarcastic humor.\n\nWe should, however, reach down to the essence of what appears on the\nsurface as a mere trick of speech. It may seem far-fetched to say, but\nit is none the less the actual fact, that Ulysses is a Nobody, and a\nvery active one to Polyphemus. That is, he has shown himself the\nnegative power which overwhelms the giant, who is now himself quite\nreduced to a nobody by Mr. Nobody. Or, in abstract terms, Ulysses has\nnegated the negation and has here suggested the subtle work of the\nprocess in doing so. Has he not negatived Polyphemus, who was himself a\nnegative, so carefully and fully defined by the poet at the start?\n\nThus we come upon the deepest pun ever made, or possible to be made, a\nliterary form which the greatest geniuses have been fond of sporting\nwith; we can find puns in Dante, Goethe, and notably in Shakespeare.\nThe pun of Ulysses rests upon the duplicity inherent in the negative;\nno-man is the man, especially to Polyphemus, whose brain cannot span\nthe two sides of the punning idea, who is not two-eyed but one-eyed by\nnature, and this one eye is soon put out by the man with two eyes. Such\nis the earliest instance of what may be called the Play of the\nNegative, which is still subtly ensconced in the spoken and written\nword, and winds in an elusive game of hide-and-seek through all\nLiterature. Many men, both writers and readers, are its victims, like\nPolyphemus.\n\nAnd all these floating metaphysical gossamers are found in Homer! Yes,\nbut not in a metaphysical form; Homer's organ is poetic, he lived in\nthe age ere philosophers had dawned. Still he too had before him the\nproblems of the soul and of the world. Nor would he have been a true\nGreek unless he had grappled with this Play of the Negative, which had\nsome marvelous fascination for the Greek mind. It is the leaven working\nin the Sophists with their subtle rhetoric, in Socrates with his\nnegating elenchus, in Plato with his confounding dialectic. Homer, as\nthe prophet of his people, foreshadowing all forms of Greek spirit and\nof Greek literature, bring to light repeatedly this Play of the\nNegative.\n\nThe modern German, in more respects than one the spiritual heir of the\nancient Greek, has not failed to give evidence of his birthright in the\nsame direction. Kant's Critique, and Hegel's Logic are the most\ndesperate efforts to grasp this slippery, double-doing and\ndouble-thinking Negative, infinitely elusive, verily the old Serpent.\nBut the supreme attempt is the modern poetic one, made by Goethe in his\nFaust poem, in which is embodied anew the mighty Negative, who is now\nnone other than the devil, Mephistopheles. Thus the last world-poet\nreaches across the ages and touches elbows with the first world-poet in\na common theme.\n\nThus Ulysses nullifies the Cyclops, inflicting three deprivations\nthrough his three means: the charred stick takes away vision, the\nstrong wine takes away strength, the ambiguous pun prevents help. The\npun also announces covertly to Polyphemus the nature of the power which\nis undoing him, but he does not and cannot understand that. But the\nproblem of Ulysses is not at an end with simply nullifying the Cyclops;\nhe and his companions are not yet outside of the cave. Herewith we come\nto a new stage of process.\n\n3. This is the escape, to which the strong giant must be made to\ncontribute, he is skillfully turned against himself. The great stone is\nremoved by him from the mouth of the cave, but he places himself there\nat the entrance, and no human being can pass. Still, the herds have to\ngo out to their pasture. Ulysses dexterously binds three large sheep\ntogether, fastens a companion under the middle one, while he clings\nbeneath a huge ram, and out they move together. But the giant stops\njust this ram and talks to it, being his favorite of the flock. The man\nof nature is again outwitted by the man of intelligence, allowing his\nenemy to slip through his very fingers. The conversation of the blind\nCyclops with the dumb animal is pathetic; his one solitary friend\napparently, the only creature he loved, is compelled to silent service\nagainst its master. \"Why art thou last to leave, who wast always first?\nDost thou long to see the eye of thy ruler, which has been put out by\nthat vile wretch, Nobody?\" So the Cyclops speaks, without seeing or\nknowing, yet with a touch which excites sympathy for his misfortune.\n\nThe special characteristic of this scene is that Ulysses does not now\ndestroy, but employs Polyphemus and his property. Nature must be used\nby intelligence to overcome nature; the strength of the giant must be\ndirected to rolling away the big stone; his herds are taken to bring\nabout the escape of his foes, and he is turned into an instrument\nagainst himself. Thus he is no longer negated as in the last scene, but\nutilized; having been subdued, he now must serve.\n\nUlysses and his companions are outside the cave, having gotten rid of\nthose dark and fearful limits which walled them in with a monster.\nMind, thought has released them; soon they are on their ship in a free\nelement. But the end is not yet; even Polyphemus, the natural man, must\ncome to know who and what has subjected him, he too is in the grand\ndiscipline of the time.\n\n4. Two things Ulysses is now to tell to the Cyclops in the distance.\nThe first is the wrong and the penalty thereof: \"Amply have thy evil\ndeeds been returned to thee,\" namely, his treatment of men. \"Zeus and\nthe other Gods have punished thee,\" there is a divine order in the\nworld, which looks after the wrong-doer. Thus Polyphemus the anarchist,\natheist, and cannibal gets a short missionary sermon on justice,\nreligion and humanity. But he does not receive it kindly, he \"hurls a\nfragment of a mountain peak,\" and almost strikes the ship. The line of\ndanger is not yet passed.\n\nStill Ulysses must tell something else though his frightened companions\ntry to dissuade him. But he must, he cannot help it: \"If any one ask\nthee, say it was Ulysses, the city-destroyer, who put out thine eye.\" A\ngreat light this word brings to the poor blind Cyclops, almost the\nlight of self-consciousness. He recalls, he knows his conqueror, and\ntherein begins to know himself, to recognize his error. \"Ah, woe is me!\nthe ancient oracles about me are fulfilled!\" Of old there had been\nprophecies concerning his destiny, but he did not understand them,\nseemingly did not regard them. How could he, with his bent toward the\ngodless? The prophet Telemus had foretold \"that I would lose my sight\nat the hands of Ulysses.\" How shall we consider this prophecy? A dim,\nfar-off presentiment among the Cyclops themselves that they were to be\nsubjected to a higher influence; their limited, one-eyed vision was to\nvanish through a more universal, two-eyed vision. Such a presentiment\nnature everywhere shows, a presentiment of the power beyond her, of the\nspiritual. What else indeed is Gravitation? A longing, a seeking which\neven the clod manifests in its fall earthward, a prophetic intimation;\nso the Cyclops, the natural man, had his prophet whom he now begins\nrightly to recognize; truly he is getting religious, quite different is\nhis present utterance from his previous blasphemy: \"we are better than\nthe Gods.\" Nay, he offers to intercede with his father Neptune, praying\nthe God to give a sending of the stranger over the sea. Moreover he\nrecognizes his divine father as the only one who can heal him in his\npresent distress. Possibly the words are spoken to beguile, but\nPolyphemus here offers to do his duty to the stranger on his shores,\nand he recognizes the Gods.\n\nManifestly we witness in this passage a striking development of the\nrude Cyclops under the tough discipline of experience. He acknowledges\nfirst his mistake in regard to the prophecy: \"I expected to see a man\ntall and beautiful and of vast strength, not this petty worthless\nweakling who has put out mine eye.\" A hero of visible might, a giant\nlike himself, not a man of invisible intelligence, he imagined he was\nto meet; great was his mistake. The conflict between Brain and Brawn\nwas settled long ago before Troy, and has been sung of in the preceding\nBook. Here then is certainly a confession of his mistake, and, if his\nwords are sincere, an offer to undo his wrong.\n\n5. At this point there is a change in Ulysses, his victory has begotten\ninsolence, he becomes a kind of Cyclops in his turn. Such is the demon\never lurking in success. Listen to his response to the confession and\nsupplication of his wretched victim: \"Would that I were as sure of\ntaking thy life and sending thee down to Hades, as that the\nEarth-shaker shall never heal thine eye.\" The implication is that the\nGod cannot do it--an act of blasphemy which the God will not be slow to\navenge. But how true to human nature is this new turn in Ulysses, how\nprofound! No sooner has he escaped and experiences the feeling of\ntriumph, than his humanity, nay his religion vanishes, he sweeps over\ninto his opposite and becomes his savage enemy. What follows? The law\nmust be read to him too, his own law; he will hear it from the mouth of\nPolyphemus, and it is essentially this: As thou hast done to me, so\nshall it be done to thee.\n\nAccordingly we have next the curse of the Cyclops denounced upon the\nhead of the transgressor. This curse is to be fulfilled to the letter,\nthe poet has fully shown the ground of it, Ulysses has really invoked\nit upon himself, it lies in his deed. Possibly Polyphemus, when he\noffered to give the dues of hospitality and to send the guest home, was\nmerely using the words of deception, which he had just had the\nopportunity of learning, and was trying to get possession of his\nenemy's body. Doubtless it was well for Ulysses to keep out of the\ngiant's hands. But that does not justify his speech, which was both\ncruel and blasphemous.\n\nHear then the curse of the Cyclops, which hints the great obstructing\nmotive to the return of Ulysses, and marks out the action of the poem;\n\"Give Ulysses no return to his home; but if he returns, may he arrive\nlate and in evil plight, upon a foreign ship with loss of all his\ncompanions, and may he find troubles in his house.\" Of course Neptune\nheard the prayer, had to hear it, in the divine order of things. The\ncurse lay inside of Ulysses, else it could not have been fulfilled; he\nhimself could drop from his humane and religious mood in adversity and\nbecome a savage in prosperity. His chief misfortunes follow after this\ncurse. But for the present he escapes to Goat Island, though another\nportentous rock is hurled at him by the Cyclops. There he sacrifices to\nthe Highest God, Zeus, who, however, pays no heed--how is it possible?\n\nSuch is this far-reaching Fairy Tale, certainly one of the greatest and\nmost comprehensive ever written. It shows a movement, an evolution both\nof Polyphemus and Ulysses; this inner unfolding indeed is the main\nthing to be grasped. It is worth the while to take a short retrospect\nof the five leading points. (1) The completely negative character of\nthe Cyclops as to institutions, religion, and even the physical man.\n(2) This negative being is negated by the man of intelligence, who puts\nout his eye, nullifies his strength by drink, and thwarts all help for\nhim by a punning stratagem. (3) He is made to help his enemies escape\nfrom his cave by the skill of Ulysses who turns the force of nature\nagainst nature. (4) The Cyclops reaches self-knowledge through Ulysses,\nwho tells his wrong and its punishment, who also tells his own name:\nwhereat the Cyclops suddenly changes and makes a humane offer. (5)\nUlysses changes the other way, becomes himself a kind of Cyclops and\nreceives the curse.\n\nThis curse will now follow Ulysses and drive him from island to island\nthrough Fableland, till he gets back to Ithaca with much suffering and\nwith all companions lost, where he will find many troubles. In this\nmanner the return of Ulysses becomes intertwined with Polyphemus and\nthis Fableland, which furnish an underlying motive for the third Part\nof the Odyssey (the last 12 Books). The curse here spoken is still\nworking when Ulysses reaches home and finds the suitors in possession.\nVerily his negative spirit lies deep; in cursing Polyphemus, he has\ncursed himself.\n\nThus the impartial poet shows both sides--the guilt as well as the good\nin Polyphemus and in Ulysses. The man of nature has his right when he\noffers to transform his conduct, and it shows that Ulysses still needs\ndiscipline when he scorns such an offer. Polyphemus too is to have his\nchance of rising, for he certainly has within himself the possibility.\nHas not the poet derived the noble Arete and Alcinous and institutional\nPhaeacia from the savage Cyclops? But Ulysses negatives Polyphemus just\nat the start upward. The character which he showed in sacking the city\nof the Ciconians is in him still, he is not yet ready to return.\n\nThe Ninth Book has thus run through its three stages and has landed us\nin pure Fableland. These three stages--the attack on the Ciconians,\nthe Lotus-eaters, the adventure with the Cyclops--may now be seen to\nbe parts of one entire process, which we may call the purification of\nthe spirit from its own negative condition. The man, having become\ndestructive-minded (_oloophrn_) must be put under training by the Gods,\nand sent to battle with the monsters of Fableland.\n\nSo we advance to the next Book with the certainty that there is still\nsome stern discipline in store for the wandering Ulysses.\n\n\n\n\n_BOOK TENTH._\n\n\nAt the first glance we can observe a certain similarity between this\nBook and the last one. There are in each three distinct portions or\nadventures, two very short and simple, and one very long and intricate.\nEach Book culminates in a fabulous being with whom the Hero has a\nwrestle for supremacy, and in both cases he comes out victorious. We\nare still in Wonderland, we have to reach into the ideal realm in order\nto find out what these strange incidents mean. The two central figures\nare Polyphemus and Circe, respectively, each of whom imparts the\ndominating thought to the Book in which he or she appears.\n\nThe first thing we ask for is the connection, the inner thread which\njoins these Books together. It was stated that Polyphemus was the\nnegation of the institutional world, he was individualistic, he\nbelonged to neither Family nor State. No laws, no councils, no civil\npolity; he is a huge man of violence, hostile specially to man's social\nlife. Circe on the contrary, is the woman hostile to woman's domestic\nworld, the Family, first of all; she is the grand enchantress,\nrepresenting the power and seductiveness of the senses; she is the\nenemy of what we call morals. To be sure, we shall find in her\nsomething more, whereof the full unfolding will be given hereafter.\n\nUlysses is the one who is to meet those negative forces and put them\ndown. His companions give him special trouble in the present Book, they\nseem to represent the weaker phases of man, possibly of Ulysses\nhimself. Already he has suppressed Polyphemus, or the institutional\nnegation; now he is to subordinate Circe or the moral negation. The\nlatter is a woman because she must have sensuous beauty and all the\ncharm of passionate enticement; the former is a man because he must\nshow strength and violence rather than the allurement of pleasure.\n\nNor should we forget that these forms are in Ulysses himself, and were\nreally generated out of his Trojan life; that spirit of his, shown at\nthe start by the attack on the Ciconians, has all these phases in its\nprocess. He is traveling through an Inferno, seeing its entire demonic\nbrood, which he has begotten, and which he has to fight and subject. At\nthe same time these fantastic shapes are typical, and shadow forth the\nuniversal experience of man, belonging to all countries and all ages.\n\nAs already stated, there are three different localities to which\nUlysses is brought. Three islands, bounded, yet in a boundless sea,\nthrough which he moves on his ships; such is the outermost setting of\nnature, suggestive of much. No tempest occurs in this Book; the stress\nis upon the three fixed places in the unfixed aqueous element.\n\nI. First is the island where dwells AEolus with his Family; hither\nUlysses comes after putting down Polyphemus who was hostile to domestic\nlife. In this spot the bag of winds is given into the possession of the\nnavigator, whose companions, however, release them, and he is driven to\nthe starting-point, with the winds at large. AEolus refuses to receive\nhim the second time.\n\nII. Next is the city of the Laestrigonians, where is a civil life, a\nState, to which Ulysses can come after subjecting the Cyclops, who had\nno polity of the sort. But the State is verily a giant, a cannibal to\nhim now, with all the winds loose. Hence he has to flee for his life.\nWhither now does he go?\n\nIII. Not to Penelope and Ithaca, but to Circe, and her isle. She is the\nform which next rises before Ulysses, banished from the domestic world\nof AEolus, and fleeing from the civil life of the Laestrigonians.\n\nWe shall try to bring the threads of connection to light, for it is our\nemphatic opinion that these three islands with their shapes are\nspiritually bound and wound together. Still further, they reach back\nand interlink with the forms of the previous Book, which furnish\nantecedent stages of the grand total movement of Fairyland. Separated\nin image are these islands and their inhabitants, but they have to be\nunited in thought. Not a mere accident is the sequence, but a\nnecessity, a strict evolution. The work here, according our best\nbelief, is organic, and the reader must not rest contented with his\nunderstanding of it, till he moves with the poet from place to place by\nthe interior path of the spirit.\n\n\nI.\n\nThe first fact about the AEolian Isle is that it was afloat in the\nwaters of the sea, as Delos and other islands of antiquity were\nreported to be. Not stationary then; the king of it, AEolus, has a name\nwhich indicates a changeable nature, veering about like the winds, of\nwhich he is king. The second fact pertaining to this Isle is that a\nwall of brass encircles it not to be broken through; \"and the cliff\nruns up sheer from the sea.\" Manifestly two opposite ideas are\nsuggested in this description: the fixed and the movable; the island\nwithin itself is bound fast, and cannot be driven asunder; yet it\nfloats in the most unstable of elements, in the sea and winds. Such is\nthe physical environment, clearly mirroring the meaning. Something\npermanent in the midst of all that is mutable we may expect to find\nhere.\n\nOn the island dwell the King of the Winds and his wife, along with six\nblooming sons and daughters. He gave his daughters to his sons for\nwives; a custom not elsewhere found in Homer outside of the realm of\nthe Gods; yet is claimed to have been a very ancient custom, which the\nPtolomies revived in Egypt. At any rate here is the picture of the\nFamily in its patriarchal form, wholly separated from other connections\nand set apart by itself, on the brass-bound precipitous island. The\nFamily is abstracted from the rest of the world and given a\ndwelling-place.\n\nAt this point we begin to catch a glimpse of the significance of the\nstory. The Family is the first power which seizes the emotions and\npassions and caprices of men (the winds of his soul) and starts the\ntaming of them; the marriage tie is fixed, is not for a day; thus the\nFamily makes itself permanent, and makes the human being stable through\nfeeling and duty. None but married people are here; very different will\nit be hereafter in the island of Circe. The king of the winds is not\nonly AEolus, but also his institution, the Family, rules here, for there\nis no State to be governed. Not polygamy, but monogamy, as the great\nHomeric principle of domestic life, do we witness--the mutual devotion\nof one man and one woman. Externally we found the fixed and the\nfloating; internally also we discover the fixed and the floating, or\nrather, that principle which fixes the floating, and makes the world\nstable. Thus we see the reason why Homer puts the Family upon the Isle\nof the Winds.\n\nIt is no wonder, therefore, that in such a place is held up before us a\npicture of happiness and plenty. \"All feast from day to day with\nendless change of meats;\" why ask whence the viands come? The inner\npeace provides them. Even the sound of flutes is heard round about,\naccording to one way of translating the passage; music attunes the\neverlasting festival. Not mere gratification is this, but happiness,\nthe outer again mirroring the inner; domestic harmony is the matter set\nforth.\n\nHither Ulysses comes with his companions, \"to the city and beautiful\nhouses\" of AEolus. A city is here, but no civil life is introduced into\nthe story. \"A whole month the monarch entertained me;\" what was again\nthe interest? \"He asked me about Ilium,\" the eternal theme, which lies\nalways in the background of Fairyland as well as of Historic Hellas.\nThe Trojan war and also \"the Return of the Greeks\" were recounted, we\nmay say, sung by Ulysses; the Iliad and the Odyssey, delighted also\nthose domestic AEolians. Was not Troy destroyed because of a wrong done\nto the Greek Family? Finally Ulysses was gotten ready to be sent home\nby his host.\n\nAEolus, the ruler of the winds, gives them into the might of Ulysses; he\nconfines them in \"a bullock's bladder,\" which, tied by a silver chain,\nhe places in the ship. It is manifest that the sea, deprived of these\nwindy powers, cannot hinder the passage. Again we behold the main fact\nof the island: the unstable, uncertain, capricious, is held by the\nfixed, the permanent; during his sojourn with AEolus, Ulysses has\nobtained an inner hold, an anchorage of the moral kind, which he sorely\nneeded. This was given him by his view of the Family, which was the\nreal security of the island. All the conditions of his return (but one)\nare placed in his hand, tied up in a bag. \"Only the west-wind was\nallowed to blow,\" which sent him homewards.\n\nStill the supreme condition was not, could not be given by AEolus or by\nanybody else, could not be tied up in a bag. The free man must be\nalert, he must watch, and win his own salvation; his prime duty is to\nkeep the bag tied, and therein to exercise his will. This is just what\nhe failed to do at the last moment. He went to sleep when in sight of\nIthaca; his companions, led by curiosity and avarice (two blasts of the\nsoul) open the bag, expecting to find gold and silver, and find the\nrushing winds. Of course all are driven back to the starting-point, to\nthe island, on which they soon land.\n\nWhat will Ulysses do in such extremity? \"Shall I drop into the sea and\nperish, or shall I still endure and stay among the living?\" Suicide\nwill not solve his problem: \"I remained and suffered.\" Herein also we\ntrace the stamp of the hero, whose special call it is to master fate.\n\nSo Ulysses tries again to get the bladder of winds from AEolus,\nconfessing that it was equally the fault of himself and his companions.\nBut the opportunity is gone; the sum total of conditions, all bagged\nand tied up, and put into his hands, presents itself only once.\nMoreover the sleep of Ulysses, just at the nick of destiny, showed an\ninternal weakness; he became careless, almost insolent under such\ncircumstances; he manifested a similar trait to that which led to the\ncurse of the Cyclops. Again he hears a malediction, now uttered by his\nformer host: \"Get thee out of my island quickly, most guilty of men,\nhated by the Gods!\" Thus AEolus regards the man before him, and\nreinforces the curse of Polyphemus. But if Ulysses had to fall asleep\nby sheer fatigue (which construction the passage hardly demands), then\nhe did not look properly after his companions, making them the sharers\nof his knowledge. A foolish question has been asked here and much\ndiscussed: How did Ulysses know what his companions said during his\nsleep? Easily enough; but the answer is not worth the candle.\n\nAEolus, therefore, refuses to receive Ulysses and his companions a\nsecond time; they have fallen, they must experience the full meaning of\ntheir conduct; they must go to Circe, and some of them, at least, be\nchanged into swine, till they know the nature of their deed. AEolus\ncannot receive them, they have destroyed his gift; they would repeat\ntheir act, if he gave all into their hands again, without the deeper\npenalty. The law thus is clear; they, having disregarded the fixed\ncontrol of appetite and passion, which the King of the Island imparts,\nare swept back into brutishness.\n\nMany have been the interpretations of this marvelous King and his\nchildren and his island. The supporters of the physical theory of\nmythology have maintained that the twelve sons and daughters are the\ntwelve months of the year, six of summer and six of winter, while\nAEolus, the father, is the Sun who produces them. Others regard AEolus as\na mortal king, who, on account of certain traits or certain deeds, was\ntransformed into the fabled monarch of the winds. There has been much\ndispute over the location of AEolia; the most of those who have searched\nfor its geographical site are in favor of one of the Lipari Islands, on\nthe northern coast of Sicily. Finally Virgil has somewhat transformed\nthe legend and put it into his AEneid.\n\n\nII.\n\nUlysses and his companions now had to use the oar on seas without wind;\n\"their spirit was worn out,\" hope had fled from them toiling through\nthe becalmed deep. They arrive at the land of the Laestrigonians, a race\nof giants, into whose narrow harbor surrounded by its high precipices\nthe ships enter, with the exception of that of Ulysses, who has learned\ncaution. A kind of cave of the Giant Despair is that harbor, reflecting\noutwardly the internal condition of the men, after their weary labor\ncoupled with the repulse from AEolus.\n\nFirst of all we here observe a city with a civil order; there is the\nplace of assembly, a king over men, with a royal palace. No husbandry\nappears, but there are wagons fetching wood to town on a smooth road\n(probably a made road); shepherds are specially designated, so that we\nmay suppose a pastoral life prevails, yet these people in their city\nare not roving nomads. The Family also is noticed, being composed of\nthe king, queen, and daughter; the latter is bringing water from the\ntown fountain--a primitive, idyllic touch. But the stress is manifestly\nnot upon the domestic but the civil institution; the State is here in\nfull operation, in which fact we mark the contrast with the preceding\nisland, AEolia. Another sharp contrast may be drawn between the\nLaestrigonians and the Cyclops; the latter are giants also, but have no\ncivil order.\n\nUlysses, therefore, witnesses the State, in due gradation after the\nFamily. He can come to both these institutions now, and see them at\nleast, for he has put down Polyphemus, who, we recollect, was the\nnegation of both. But only see them, not share in them; the curse of\nthe Cyclops is still working upon him and in him; though he destroy a\ndestroyer, that does not make him positive; the devil destroys the\nwicked, but that does not make him good. Hence the State rejects him as\ndid the Family; he is by no means ready to return to Ithaca and\nPenelope. Such is his experience at present.\n\nBut why should the Laestrigonians be portrayed as giants? Of course the\nFairy Tale deals in these huge beings for its own purpose. AEolus and\nhis children seem to have been of common stature. The fancy can often\nplay into the meaning, or suggest a glimpse thereof. The State may be\ncalled the Big Man, the concentrated personality of many persons; he\nstrikes hard, he overwhelms the wrong-doer. Therefore he seems now so\nterrible to Ulysses, and is really so to the latter's companions, of\nwhom all perish here except one shipful. It is the function of the\nState to punish; in the sweet domestic life of AEolus, there was no\npunishment, only banishment; thus we behold now the penalty, at the\nhands of that institution which is specially to administer it. The\ncompanions did no wrong to the Laestrigonians, but note that just here\njudgment comes upon them. Ulysses escapes, but to him also these people\nappear as destroyers, as man-devouring cannibals; so the State often\nseems to the guilty, overwhelming the individual with its penal\nvengeance.\n\nThe Cyclops was also a giant and a cannibal, full of hostility; but\nmark the difference. He was the Strong Man of Nature, not human in\nshape, with that one eye in his head; his violence was against\ninstitutions, the violence of the wild barbarian, which has to be put\ndown by man. But the Laestrigonians live in a civilized order which has\nto punish the transgressor; their shapes are not monstrosities of\nnature, but magnified human bodies. Both are giants and cannibals, both\nnegative, but in a wholly different sense.\n\nWhat is the location of the Laestrigonians? A subject much disputed\nrecently and of old, with very little profit. Some expressions are\npuzzling: \"The herdsman coming in greets the herdsman going out;\" then\nagain, \"a herdsman needing no sleep would earn double wages,\" which\nimplies apparently two periods for toil in twenty-four hours, the one\n\"for tending cows\" and the other \"for tending sheep;\" and this is\npossible, \"for the paths of day and night are near\" to each other, as\nif somehow day and night ran their courses together. What does it all\nmean? Some dim story of the polar world with its bright nights, which\nstory may have come from the far North into Greece, along with another\nNorthern product, amber, which was known to Homer, may lie at the basis\nof this curious passage. But we can hardly place the Laestrigonians\nunder polar skies in spite of this polar characteristic. Others have\nsought their locality in the Black Sea and have even seen their harbor\nin that of Balaklava. All of which is uncertain enough, and destined to\nremain so, but furnishes a marvelous field for erudite conjecture and\ninvestigation. The certain matter here, and we should say the important\none also, is the institutional order and its negative attitude toward\nUlysses. That is, we must reach down and bring to light the ethical\nthread which is spun through this wonderful texture of Fairy Tales,\nbefore we have any real explanation, or connecting principle.\n\n\nIII.\n\nOnward the wanderer, now with his single ship, has to sail again;\nwhither next? He arrives at another island called AEaea, \"where dwells\nthe fair-haired Circe, an awful Goddess, endowed with a singing voice,\nown sister of the evil-minded wizard AEaetes, both sprung of the Sun and\nof Perse, daughter of Oceanus.\"\n\nThis genealogy we have set down in full, as given by the poet, on\naccount of its suggestiveness. These names carry us back to the East,\nquite to primitive Arya; here is the Sun, the God of the old Vedas;\nhere is Perse, curiously akin to Persia, which was light-worshiping in\nher ancient religion; then we come to AEaetes, father of Medea, usually\nheld to be of Colchis on the Eastern coast of the Black Sea, whence we\nbusily pass to Hellas in many a legend, and from Hellas we now have\ntraveled far westward into Fairyland. One ancient story, probably the\nfirst, placed Circe in the remote East; another, this of Homer for\nexample, sends her to the far West; a third united the two and told of\nthe Flight of Circe upon the chariot of the Sun from Orient to\nOccident, which is doubtless a much later form of the tale, though\nascribed to Hesiod. Circe is of a higher ancestry than Polyphemus,\nthough both go back in origin to the sea with their island homes; she,\nhowever, is a child of the light-giving body, and will show her descent\nin the end. Her name is related to the circle, and hints the circling\nluminary, on whose car she is said to have fled once. Here in Homer,\nhowever, we may note an inner circle of development; she passes through\na round of experience, and seems to complete a period of evolution. She\nmust be grasped as a movement, as a cycle of character, if you please;\nshe develops within, and this is the main fact of her portrayal.\n\nThe preceding etymological intimations are dim enough, yet they point\nback to Asia, and to an old Aryan relationship. Not too much stress is\nto be put upon them, yet they are entitled to their due recognition,\nand are not to be thrown aside as absolutely meaningless. By Homer,\nhimself, they could not have been understood, being traces of a\nmigration and ethnical kinship which had been in his time long\nforgotten, and which modern scholarship has resurrected through the\ncomparative study of language.\n\nMore important is the connection between Circe and the two preceding\nportions of this Book, AEolia and the Laestrigonians. We have just seen\nhow both Family and State cast Ulysses off, must cast him off, since he\nis without moral subordination. The inner self-control demanded by an\ninstitutional life he has not been able to reach, after the alienation\nproduced by the Trojan War; the bag of winds given into his hand by\nAEolus he could not keep tied. Why? Behold Circe rise up and take on\nshape after his twofold experience. Really she is evolved out of\nUlysses in a certain sense; he sees her just now and not before,\nbecause he has created her. Why is he thus repelled by Family and\nState? Circe is the answer; she is the enchantress who stands for\nsensuous pleasure in its most alluring form; with her is now the\nbattle.\n\nThus we approach another struggle of the hero, the longest and by far\nthe most elaborately unfolded, of the present Book. In many respects it\nis the counterpart of the story of Polyphemus in the previous Book.\nThere he meets and puts down the anti-institutional man; here he meets\nand puts down the anti-moral woman. The one represents more the\nobjective side of man's spirit, the other more the subjective; both\ntogether image the totality of the ethical world, in its two supreme\naspects, institutions and morals.\n\nVery famous has this story of Circe become in literature. It has\nfurnished proverbs, allusions, texts for exhortation; it has been\nwrought over into almost every possible form--drama, novel, poem,\nparamyth; from the nursery to old age it retains its charm and power.\nIts meaning is plain enough, especially at first; but it grows more\nweird and more profound as it develops; at last it ascends quite into\nthe beyond and points to the supersensible world.\n\nNow the main point to be seized in this tale is the movement, the\ndevelopment of Circe through her several stages, which are in the main\nthree, showing Circe victorious, Circe conquered, and Circe prophetic.\nUlysses and his companions move along with these stages, being also in\nthe process; but the center of interest, the complete unfolding, is\nfound in Circe. These three chief stages we may give somewhat more\nfully before entering upon the detailed exposition.\n\n_First._ The island is reached; some of the companions under a leader\n(not Ulysses) go to Circe's abode, and are turned into swine after\npartaking of her food. Circe triumphant.\n\n_Second._ Ulysses himself then goes, having obtained the plant _moly_;\nhe subdues, enjoys; he releases his companions. He finally asks to be\nsent home, according to the promise she had given. Circe subordinated.\n\n_Third._ Then she reveals her prophetic power and announces the future\njourney to Hades, ere he can return home. Thus she sends him on beyond\nherself, and reaches her culmination in this Book.\n\nOf these three stages the last seems inappropriate to Circe's\ncharacter, and is always a puzzle to the reader, till he probes to the\nthought underlying the tale. Circe, then, is to show herself a seeress,\nand foreshadow the world beyond the present. Why just that in her case?\nBut before the question can be answered, we must unfold the first two\nstages.\n\nI. After an introduction which names the new island and its occupant,\nas well as gives a bit of her genealogy, the tale takes up Ulysses and\nhis companions. After a rest of two days and two nights, the hero goes\nforth to spy out the land, ascends a hill whence he sees the smoke of\nCirce's palace rising \"through the bushes and the trees.\" His last\nexperience makes him careful, his thirst for knowledge does not now\ndrive him to go at once into her presence. He returns to his companions\nwith his information, and on the way back he kills a high-horned stag,\n\"which had come down from the woods to the stream to slake its thirst.\"\nThe result is a good meal for all once more, and a restoration of hope.\n\n1. In such a mood he imparts his discovery: \"I have seen with mine eyes\nsmoke in the center of the island.\" Terror-striking was the\nannouncement to his companions, who at once thought of \"the cannibals,\nCyclops and Laestrigonians.\" And they had cause for fear. It may,\nhowever, be said in advance that Circe is not a man-eater, but a\nman-transformer; she is a new phase of the great experience, she\nbestializes; she is negative, not so much from without as from within,\nnot consuming the human shape but transmuting it into that of an\nanimal.\n\nA curious expression here needs some explanation. \"We know not where is\neast and where is west, not where the Sun goes under the earth, nor\nwhere he rises.\" Why not? There have been several ways of viewing this\npassage. Ulysses did not know the countries where the Sun set or rose,\nthough he must have seen the direction. A statement from Voss may be\nhere translated: \"The side of night and of day he knew well, for he saw\nsunrise and sunset; but he does not know into what region of the world\nhe has wandered away from home.\" One other suggestion: it may have been\nvery foggy or cloudy weather at the time. The internal hint, however,\nis clear; he is astray, lost; he knows not what direction to take for\nhis return.\n\nBut something has to be done. Accordingly Ulysses divides his crew into\ntwo portions, one commanded by Eurylochus, the other by himself. The\nlot decided that Eurylochus and his company should go to the house of\nCirce, and the lot always decides aright in the hand of Ulysses. Forth\nthey \"go wailing, two and twenty companions, and leave us behind,\nweeping.\" A tearful time for those forty-four people plus the two\nleaders; which numbers give a basis for calculating the size of the\ncrew, of which six had been already destroyed by the Ciconians and six\nby the Cyclops.\n\n2. Soon they reach the abode of Circe, whose picture is now drawn with\ncharacteristic touches. She is beautiful, sings with a beautiful voice,\nand makes beautiful things, weaving webs such as the Goddesses weave.\nSurely an artistic being; her palace is built of hewn stone, not of\nnatural rock, yet it lies in the depths of the forest. Here again she\nshows her power: wild animals, wolves and lions, lie around--fawning\nupon, not attacking men, tamed by her powerful drugs. That is, she\nshows herself the mistress of nature, or rather the transformer\nthereof; her mighty spell can change character and shape.\n\nThere has been a difference of opinion from antiquity down to the\npresent about these animals. Are they transformed men, or merely wild\nanimals tamed? The matter is left in doubt by the poet and either view\nwill answer for the passage. The connection, however, with the\ntransformation of the companions of Ulysses, would suggest the first\nmeaning. These partake of her food, with which she mingles her drug,\n\"in order that they might wholly forget their native country.\" But here\nis something more than the indifference of the Lotus-eaters; these\neaters and drinkers at once become swine as to \"their heads, voices and\nhair,\" and eat the acorn and the fruit of cornel-tree, \"like wallowing\npigs.\" Yet their mind remained \"firm as before.\"\n\nThere can be no doubt that Time has interpreted this scene in but one\nway, and Time is probably correct. Still it is not here expressly said\nthat the companions indulged to excess in food and drink, though they\napparently had just had a sufficiency of feasting along the sea-shore,\non venison and wine, \"unspeakable meat and sweet drink.\" We must,\nhowever, consider the whole to be a phase of that same lack of inner\nsubordination which led these people to untie the fatal bag of winds\nupon a former occasion.\n\n3. One man alone escaped to tell the story, as so often happens in such\nadventures; it is Eurylochus, \"who remained outside the palace\nsuspecting guile.\" When Ulysses hears the account, he proposes to go at\nonce and release his comrades. Eurylochus beseeches him not to attempt\nit, but he persists, saying, \"I shall go, a strong necessity is upon\nme.\" Possibly in his contemptuous expression, \"You stay in this place\neating and drinking,\" is hinted just that which he is now to put down,\nin contrast with his companions. Eurylochus is the man who is unable to\nsolve the problem; he runs away from it, is afraid of it, and leaves\nhis wretched associates behind. But the problem must have a positive\nsolution, which here follows.\n\nII. We are now to witness the dealings of Ulysses with Circe; he is to\nsubordinate her, making her into a means, not an end; she will\nrecognize him and submit completely, taking an oath not to do him any\nharm; she will release his companions and restore them to their natural\nforms at his behest; she will then properly entertain the entire crew,\nno longer turning them into swine. The world of the appetites and the\nsenses will be duly ordered and subjected to the rational; from an\nimperious enchantress Ulysses changes Circe into an instrument of life\nand restoration. He is the transformer of her, not she of him; for she\nwill reduce man to a beast, unless he reduces her to reason.\n\n1. Ulysses on his way to Circe's palace is met by a seeming youth\n(really a God, Mercury) who warns him and gives him a plant potent\nagainst the drugs of the enchantress. It is manifest that Ulysses has a\ndivine call; he knows already his problem from Eurylochus, the God\nreiterates it and inspires him with courage. In addition he receives a\nplant from the divine hand, whereof the description we may ponder: \"The\nroot is black, its flower white as milk; the Gods call it _moly_, hard\nit is for men to dig up.\" Very hard indeed! And the whole account is\nsymbolical, we think, consciously symbolical; it has an Orphic tinge,\nhinting of mystic rites. At any rate the hero has now the divine\nantidote; still he is to exert himself with all his valor; \"when she\nshall smite thee with her staff, draw thy sword and rush upon her, as\nif intending to kill her.\" Thus he is to assert the god-like element in\nhimself, the rational, and subject to it the sensuous. It is clear that\nUlysses is beginning to master the lesson of his experience.\n\n2. He does as the God (and his own valor) directed, and Circe cowers\ndown subdued. She is not supreme, there is something higher and she\nknows it. At once she recognizes who it is: \"Art thou that wily Ulysses\nwhose coming hither from Troy in his black ship has often been foretold\nto me?\" Such a prophecy she must have known and felt, she had mind and\nwas aware of a power above her, which would some day put her down,\nafter the Trojan time. In like manner Polyphemus, the man of nature,\nhas heard of a coming conqueror, and actually named him.\n\nThis one kind of subjection, however, is not enough, it must be made\nuniversal. Every kind of subordination of the sensuous, not merely in\nthe matter of eating and drinking, is necessary. The next thing to be\nguarded against is carnal indulgence, which may \"make me cowardly and\nunmanly.\" Hence Circe has \"to swear the great oath, not to plot against\nme any harm.\" Thus in the two chief forms of human appetite, that of\neating and drinking and that of sexual indulgence, she is subjected.\n\nUlysses is beginning to have some claims to being a moral hero, still\nhe is not by any means an ascetic. He has the Greek notion of morality;\nwe have a right to enjoy, but enjoyment must not make us bestial;\nrational moderation is the law. He drinks of Circe's cup, but does not\nlet it turn him into a swine; he shares in all her pleasures, but never\nsuffers his head to get dizzy with her blandishments. Every seductive\ndelicacy she sets before him, mingled with the most charming flattery;\n\"I did not like the feast.\" Why? This leads us to the next and higher\npoint.\n\n3. Lofty is the response of Ulysses: \"O Circe, what right-minded man\nwould endure to touch food and drink before seeing his companions\nreleased?\" At once she goes to the sty and sets them free, restoring\ntheir shapes, \"and they became younger, larger, and more beautiful than\nthey were before.\" A great advantage is this to any man; it is worth\nthe hard experience to come out with such a gain, especially as the\ncompanions must have been getting a little old, stooped and wrinkled,\nhaving gone through so many years of hardship at Troy and on the sea.\n\n4. Thus Ulysses has transformed Circe into an instrument for restoring\nhis fallen comrades; surely a noble act. Next she of her own accord\nasks Ulysses to go to the sea-shore for the rest of his men and to\nbring them to her palace for refreshment and entertainment. This he\nsucceeds in doing after some opposition from the terrified Eurylochus,\nwho has not yet gotten over his scare. Sorely did the companions need\nthis rest and recuperation after their many sufferings on land and sea;\n\"weak and spiritless they were, always thinking of the bitter\nwandering.\" But now in the palace of Circe \"they feasted every day for\na whole year,\" eating and drinking without being turned into swine.\nEven Eurylochus follows after, \"for he feared my terrible threat.\"\n\nThus we catch the sweep of this grand experience of and with Circe; if\nshe governs, she bestializes man; if she serves, she refreshes and\nrestores. Her complete subordination is witnessed; from transforming\npeople into swine, she is herself transformed into their helper, and\nshe becomes an important factor in the great Return to home and\ncountry. But it is time to think of this Return again; the period of\nrepose and enjoyment must come to an end.\n\nIII. Here, then, we behold a new phase of Circe, that of the seeress\ninto the Beyond. Ulysses says to her at the end of the year: \"Now make\nyour promise good, send us home, for which we long.\" Stunning is the\nanswer after that period of relaxation: \"Ye must go another way, ye\nmust pass into the Houses of Hades.\" It is indeed a terrible response.\nBut for what purpose? \"To consult the soul of the blind Theban seer\nTiresias, whose mind is still unimpaired; to him alone of the dead\nProserpine gave a mind to know.\" Clearly this means the pure\nintelligence without body; Ulysses must now reach forth to the\nincorporeal spirit, to the very Idea beyond the senses, beyond life.\n\nThe first question which arises in this connection is, How can Circe,\nthe enchantress of the senses, be made the prophetess of the\nsupersensible world? If we watch her development through the two\npreceding stages, we shall see that she not only can, but must point to\nwhat is beyond, to spirit. In the second stage she experiences a great\nchange, no longer transforming into the lower, but herself transformed\ninto the higher; she becomes a moral being, subordinating the sensuous\nto the spiritual; she has, therefore, spirit in her life and manifests\nit in her actions, when she is the willing means of subjecting appetite\nto reason.\n\nThe same transformation we may note on her artistic side, for she\nremains always beautiful. The first Circe is that alluring seductive\nbeauty which destroys by catering to the senses; she is that kind of\nart, which debauches through its appeal to appetite and passion alone.\nBut the second Circe is transfigured, her service is of the spirit, she\nreleases from the bondage of indulgence, she aids the ethical Return to\nFamily and State. It is true that she never becomes a saint or a nun,\nshe would not be Greek if she did; moreover, according to the Greek\nview, she must be transcended by the typical man, who is to rise into\nan institutional life, which is hardly Circe's. Still the primal moral\nsubjection is shown in her career.\n\nThe domain of morals reveals the spiritual in action, the domain of\ntrue art reveals the spiritual in representation. What shall I do with\nthis world of the senses? was a great question to the Greek, and still\nis to us. In conduct subordinate it; in nature transform it into an\nimage of the higher. The work of art is a divine flash from above into\na sensuous form; this flash we separate from its material, and pass\ninto pure spirit; then we reach Tiresias, the mind embodied, not\nlimited in Space and Time.\n\nCirce thus indicates her own limitation, which belongs to morals and\nart. She is not the Infinite, but can point to it; she hints the rise\nfrom art to philosophy. Backwards and forwards runs the suggestion in\nher career; the Greek can lapse to the first Circe and die in a debauch\nof the senses, or he can rise to the prophetic Circe, and lay the deep\nfoundation of all future thought. The Greek world, in fact, had just\nthis double outcome.\n\nUlysses, then, has to go to Hades, the supersensible realm; his heart\nwas wrung, \"I wept sitting upon the couch, I wished no longer to live\nnor to see the light of the sun.\" But after such a fit, he is ready for\naction: \"when I had enough of weeping and rolling about, I asked Circe:\nWho will guide me?\" Then he receives his instructions, which have\nsomewhat of the character of a mystic ritual, with offerings to the\ndead, who will come and speak. Messages from the spirit world he will\nget, but he must pass through the Ocean stream, to the groves of\nProserpine. From that point, after mooring his ship, he is to go to the\nhouses of Hades, where is a rock at the meeting of two loud-roaring\nrivers; \"pour there a libation to the dead\" with due ceremony. In all\nof which is the method of the later necromancy, or consultation of the\ndeparted for prophetic purposes. Very old is the faith that the souls\nof deceased persons can be made to appear and to foretell the future,\nafter a proper rite and invocation; nor is such a belief unknown in our\nday.\n\nUlysses departs from Circe's palace and tells his companions concerning\nthe new voyage: whereat another scene of lamentation. To the Greek the\nUnderworld was a place of gloom and terror; he liked not the spirit\ndisembodied, he needed the sensuous form for his thought, he was an\nartist by nature. The Homeric Greek in particular was the incarnation\nof the sunny Upperworld, he shuddered at the idea of separating from it\nand its fair shapes. But the thing must be done, as it lies in the path\nof development as well as in the movement of this poem.\n\nUlysses must therefore go below, inasmuch as this world with its moral\nlife even, is not the finality. There is aught beyond, the limit of\ndeath we must surmount in the present existence still; a glimpse of\nfuturity the mortal must have before going thither. So Homer makes the\nHero transcend life as it were, during life; and extend his wanderings\ninto the supersensible world.\n\nThe reader has now witnessed the three stages of this Tenth\nBook--AEolus, the Laestrigonians, and Circe. The inner connection between\nthese three stages has also been investigated and brought to the\nsurface; at least such has been the persistent attempt. Especially has\nCirce been unfolded in the different phases which she shows--all of\nwhich have been traced back to a unity of character.\n\nThe intimate relation between the Ninth and Tenth Books has been set\nforth along with their differences. Both belong to the Upperworld of\nthis Fableland; hence they stand in contrast with the Netherworld,\nwhich is now to follow.\n\n\n\n\n_BOOK ELEVENTH._\n\n\nThe present Book is one of the most influential pieces of writing which\nman has produced. It has come down through the ages with a marvelous\npower of reproduction; in many ways poets have sought to create it\nover; indeed Time has imitated it in a series of fresh shapes. Virgil,\nnot to speak of other attempts in ancient Greek epics, has re-written\nit in the Sixth Book of the AEneid; from Virgil it passed to Dante who\nhas made its thought the mould which shapes his entire poem--the\n_Divine Comedy_.\n\nIt is one phase of the great Mythus of the Apocalypse, or the\nuncovering of the Future State, which in some form belongs to all\npeoples, and which springs from the very nature of human spirit. Man\nmust know the Beyond; especially the Hero, the spiritual Hero of his\nrace, must extend his adventures, not only over the world, but into the\nother world, and bring back thence the news concerning those who have\nalready departed.\n\nThis then is the supreme Return of the Hero, the Return from beyond\nlife, still alive; he is to conquer not only the monster Polyphemus and\nthe enchantress Circe, but also the greatest goblin of all, Death.\nCommon mortals have to make the passage thither without returning; the\nHero must be the grand exception, else he were no Hero. Transcendent\nmust he be, rising above all limits, even the limit of life and death.\n\nWe have, therefore, in the present Book the Greek glance into\nimmortality. This is the essence of it, hence its prodigious hold upon\nhuman kind. That the conscious individual persists after the\ndissolution of the physical body is here strongly affirmed; indeed the\nworld beyond is organized, and its connection with the world on this\nside is unfolded, in a series of striking pictures for the imagination.\nIt is thus a grand chapter in the history of the soul's consciousness\nof its eternal portion, is in fact the middle link between the Oriental\nand the Christian view of immortality.\n\nUlysses, as the wise man, or rather as the intellectual Hero of his\nage, must go through the experience in question; he cannot return to\nhome and country, and be fully reconciled with his institutional life\nhere and now, without having seen what is eternal and abiding in the\nsoul. The wanderer must wander thither, the absolute necessity lies\nupon him--and he must fetch back word about what he saw, and thus be a\nmediator between the sensible and supersensible, between time and\neternity. In that way he means something to his people, becomes, in\nfact, their Great Man, helping them vicariously in this life to rise\nbeyond life. The complete Return, then, involves the descending to\nHades, the beholding the shapes there, and the coming back with the\nreport to the living. Perhaps we ought to consider just this to be the\nculmination of the whole journey, the grand adventure embracing all\npossible adventures.\n\nThe connection with the preceding Book can not be too strongly\nenforced. Circe points out the way to Ulysses; her nature is to point\nto the Beyond, to which she cannot herself pass. In her last phase, she\nwas spirit, but still in the sensuous form; that spirit in her, as in\nall true art and even in the world, points to its pure realm, where it\nis freed from the trammels of the senses. This gives the main\ncharacteristic of Homeric Hades; it is the supersensible world, outside\nof Space and Time; or, rather with its own Space and Time, since it is\nstill an image.\n\nHence these mythical statements which seek to get beyond all known\ngeographical limits. Ulysses had to cross the Ocean stream, which ran\nround the whole earth; to go over it was indeed to go over the border.\nThere below is the gloomy grove of Proserpine; there too, are the four\nrivers of the Lower Regions, with names terribly suggestive; into\nAcheron the stream of pain (or lake) flow Pyriphlegethon (Fire-flames)\nand Cocytus (the Howler), the latter being an offshoot of Styx (Hate or\nTerror). Where \"the two loud-sounding rivers meet\" the third one\n(Acheron) is a rock, a firm protected spot seemingly, there with mystic\nrites is the invocation of the dead to take place.\n\nThus we see that the poet's description remains spatial in his attempt\nto get beyond space. He has to express himself in images taken from the\nsensible world, even while pushing them beyond into the supersensible.\nHe makes us feel that the image is inadequate, though he has to use it;\npoetry is driven upon its very limit. At this point specially we note\nthe kinship of the Odyssey with Romantic Art, which through the finite\nform suggests the Infinite. Dante comes to mind, whose great poem is\none vast struggle of the limited symbol with the unlimited spirit which\nis symbolized. Thus the old Greek song becomes prophetic, foreshadowing\nthe next great world-poem, or Literary Bible, written in the light of a\nnew epoch.\n\nStrong is the sympathy which one feels with the ancient singer in this\nattempt to probe the deepest mystery of our existence. He must have\nreflected long and profoundly upon such a theme, building in this Book\na world of spirits, and laying down the lines of it for all futurity.\nProbably the most gigantic conception in literature: the universal\nHero, ere he can round the complete cycle of experience, must pass\nthrough the Beyond and come back to the Present. It deepens the idea of\nthe Return, till it embraces the totality of existence, by making it\nreach through the Underworld, which is thus a domain in the spiritual\ncircumnavigation of the globe.\n\nThe structure of the Book is somewhat intricate and it requires quite a\nlittle search to find the lines upon which it is built. It has at the\nfirst glance a rather scattered, disorganized look; for this reason the\nanalytic critics have fallen upon it in particular, and have sought to\ntear it into fragments. It is possible that some few lines may have\nbeen interpolated, but it remains an organic whole, and the final\ninsight into it comes from viewing it in its total constructive\nmovement.\n\nAs the Book is an effort to make a bridge between the sensible and\nsupersensible realms, manifestly this separation into two realms will\nconstitute the fundamental division. The diremption into soul and body,\ninto life and death, runs through the entire narrative, also that into\nmen and women; but the main distinction is into Past and Present. The\nsensible world when canceled becomes Past, the distant in Time and\npossibly in Space; this Past through its characters, its spirits, is\nmade to communicate with the Present.\n\nMoreover the Past has its distinctions. To the Greek mind of Homer's\nage, specially in Phaeacia, the Trojan War is the grand central fact of\nthe aforetime; thus the Past divides into the Pre-Trojan, Trojan, and\nimmediate Past, in the Book before us. A complete sweep down into the\nNow is given--the sweep of the supersensible. Also the Present has two\nrepresentatives: Ulysses along with his companions, and the Phaeacians.\n\nIn the Past, therefore, is arranged a long gallery of souls speaking to\nthe Present, which listens and also has its communication. The problem\nnow is to get a structural form which will hold the idea. Let the\nfollowing scheme be sent in advance, which scheme, however, can only be\nverified or understood at the close of the Book on a careful review.\n\nI. The first great communication of the dead and past to the living and\npresent, by voice and by vision; some speak, others are only seen.\n\n1. The present and living element is made up of Ulysses and his\ncompanions who are invoking by their rites and prayers the souls of the\nUnderworld. The companion Elpenor dead, but not yet buried, forms the\ntransition between the Present and Past.\n\n2. The past and dead element, Pre-Trojan, is called up in two general\nforms: the ancient seer Tiresias who is both Past and Future through\nhis mind, and, secondly, the souls of Famous Women, who pass in review\nbefore the Present. The hint of a world-justice runs through both the\nprophecies of the seer and the destinies of some of these women.\n\nII. The second grand communication of the dead and past, now Trojan--to\nthe living and present, now Phaeacian prominently, given by voice and\nvision.\n\n1. The Present is here not only Ulysses far off in Hades, but the\nPhaeacians in their actual sensible world. The latter demand again the\ngrand background and presupposition of their present life--the Trojan\nepoch represented in its great spirits.\n\n2. The Past, Trojan, in three typical Greek heroes, Agamemnon,\nAchilles, Ajax. The three typical Greek women of the Trojan epoch are\nalso mentioned. An implicit idea of punishment, or of heroic limitation\nbrought home to the hero, is traceable in this portion.\n\nIII. The idea of a world-justice with its universal judgment, hitherto\nonly implied, now becomes explicit in Hades and organizes itself,\nshowing (1) the judge, Minos, (2) the culprits in four condemned ones,\n(3) the saved one, Hercules, who rises out of Hades through the deed.\nBy implication so does the living Ulysses--hence the journey is at an\nend, Hades is conquered.\n\n\nI.\n\nUlysses follows the direction of Circe, indeed he is propelled by the\nwind which she sends, to the \"confines of the Ocean stream,\" to the\nlimits of this terrestrial Upperworld. Here is the land of the\nCimmerians, \"hid in fog and in cloud,\" which veils the realm of the\ndead; here the sun sends no beam, either rising or setting. Again it is\npossible that the poet may have heard some dim account of the regions\nof the extreme North. But the significance of the Cimmerians is to\nshadow forth the dark border-land between life and death, which is here\nthat between the limited and the unlimited. We see the strong attempt\nof the poet to get beyond limitation in its twofold appearance: first\nhe will transcend the external boundary of the Homeric horizon, that of\nthe sea stretching far to the westward; still more emphatic is his\neffort to transcend the limits of finite thinking and to reach an\ninfinite realm, which is the goal of the spirit. He sweeps out of\nsensuous space, yet the poetic imagination has to remain in space after\nall, though it be a new space of its own creation. In like manner, he\nhas to give the disembodied souls some finite nourishment in the shape\nof food and blood, in order that they become real. We feel in these\ndark Cimmerian limits his wrestle to pass over to the supersensible by\nthought.\n\nI. The Present is represented by Ulysses and his companions, who now\nperform the rites consisting of a sacrifice and prayer to \"the nations\nof the dead.\" We may find in the libation of \"mingled honey, sweet\nwine, and water,\" a suggestion of the tissues and fluids of the body,\nwhile the blood of the sacrificed animals hints the principle of\nvitality. When the disembodied spirit tastes these elements, it gets a\nkind of body again, sufficient at least to be able to speak. That the\nsheep must be black is curiously symbolical, hinting the harmony\nexpressed in the color of the animal and of Hades.\n\nThe souls \"came thronging out of Erebus,\" eager to communicate. This\naspiration must thus be their general condition; they wish to hear from\nus as much as we wish to hear from them. Hence there must be a\nselection, which involves a new rite, the flaying and the burning of\nthe carcasses of the animals along with \"prayer to Pluto and\nProserpine\" king and queen of the Underworld. Yet this choice requires\nactivity from the hero, who has to draw his sword and keep off the\ncrowd of spirits, till the right one comes, the Theban seer Tiresias.\n\nThus is the Past linked into the Present, which to receive the\ncommunications of the departed by means of a ritual, in whose symbolism\nwe see the effort of the living to know the Beyond. Now occurs a\ncurious incident: Ulysses beholds his companion Elpenor, dead, yet\nunburned, and hears his first message. This soul can still speak, and\nbe seen; it hovers half way between the two worlds, having still a\nmaterial phase of the body which has not yet been burnt. Elpenor tells\nthe nature of his death: \"some deity and too much wine\" did the\nthing--a combination which is usually effective in Homer. An unhappy\ncondition, suspended between matter and spirit; he begs that it be\nended. But the poor fellow has another request which shows the longing\nof the humblest Greek--the longing for the immortality of fame. \"Make a\ntomb beside the seashore for me, an unfortunate man, of whom posterity\nmay hear.\" Thus he too will live in the mouths of men; wherein we catch\npossibly a gleam of Homer himself, who has certainly erected an\nimperishable monument to Elpenor, voicing the aspiration of the soul\neven in Hades.\n\nIt is the hint of a deep maternal instinct that Anticleia, \"my mother\ndeceased\" comes at once to the blood and wishes communication. But\nUlysses must first hear Tiresias, the strongest ties of Family are\nsubordinate to the great purpose. Surely all are now ready to listen to\nthe Past with its message; here comes its spirit, voiced with a fresh\npower.\n\nII. We have just had the Present, and in the case of Elpenor, the\nimmediate Past, which is not yet wholly gone. Next we take a leap to\nthe Past of long ago, to the Pre-Trojan time, whose spirits will\nappear. Two sets of them, divided according to sex into man and woman,\nwe behold. But the man here is the prophet, hence what he says belongs\nto the Future, into which Ulysses now gets a glimpse.\n\nThus both Future and Past are given their place in the supersensible\nrealm, both being abstractions from the Present, which is the reality,\nthe world of the senses. Yet that which is abiding and eternal knows\nnot Past, Present, or Future, or knows them all equally, having that\nwhich is common to them all, being indeed the principle of them all. In\na sense we may say that Tiresias is Past, Present and Future, he is the\nvoice of the Past speaking in the Present foretelling the Future. Then\nthe Famous Women come forth, whose fame causes them to appear now and\nto be recorded. Thus the poet takes the two ancient sets and suggests\nthat which underlies them both and makes them ever present.\n\n1. Tiresias, though he spans the three dimensions of Time, is\nessentially the prophet, and so his stress is upon the Future. His body\nhas been long dead, but his mind is left in its untrammeled activity;\nhe may be considered as the purest essence of spirit. No senses\nobstruct his vision, he sees the eternal and unchangeable law; yet he\nmust throw it into images and apply it to special cases. What a\nconception for a primitive poet! We feel in this figure of Tiresias\nthat Homer himself is prophetic, foreshadowing the pure ideas or\narchetypal forms of Plato, and that he, in his struggle for adequate\nexpression of thought, is calling for, and in fact calling forth, Greek\nphilosophy.\n\nTiresias speaks at first without drinking of the blood, yet he has to\ndrink of it to tell his prophecy. This little contradiction is not\nvital, let it not trouble us. The prophetic announcement to Ulysses\nincludes four special cases. First, the Hero must have his struggle\nwith Neptune on his way homeward, the God will avenge the blinding of\nhis son, though that blinding had to take place; every man who\novercomes a great power, even a natural power, will get the backstroke\nof his own deed. The very ship of Ulysses, which defies Neptune,\nexposes itself to a conflict which it might avoid, did it not undertake\nto master the God's element; such is the penalty of all victory.\nSecondly, he must keep down appetite, particularly at the Trinacrian\nIsle, and not slay the Oxen of the Sun, else the penalty will follow\nthere too. Not to keep down passion and appetite is clearly to eat of\nthose oxen in some way, which will be more carefully scrutinized\nhereafter. Then, thirdly, \"thou shalt avenge the violent deeds of the\nSuitors, when thou hast returned home.\"\n\nThe common ground in these three cases of prophetic insight is\nretribution for the act done there above on earth. The penalty is as\ncertain in the future as it has been in the past; violation brings\npunishment. Ulysses has had that experience often; note it is told him,\nor, if you wish to think the matter in that way, he tells it to himself\nfor his own future experience. So the Prophet sees the universal law,\nhe knows what abides in all the fleeting appearances of the world.\nUlysses also, were he to descend into the depths of his own soul, would\nfind the same prophecy; indeed this descent into Hades is also the\ndescent into himself, as well as into the outer supersensible world.\nThe hero in his intellectual journey has gone far, we can now behold\nhim near the eternal verities.\n\nBut the fourth statement of the Prophet is here too, it is the word of\npromise. When this last conflict with the Suitors is over, then be\nreconciled with Neptune by a fitting sacrifice (which means that\nUlysses should quit the watery element) give hecatombs to the\nImmortals, recognize them and their rule. Then serene old age will take\nthee off remote from the sea and all struggle, among a happy people,\nwhom thou hast made happy. Such is the promise, extending quite beyond\nthe limits of the Odyssey, which ends not at the death of Ulysses, but\nwith his last conflict. So there is hope amid all this struggle, hope\nof becoming the complete man, who has reached harmony with the Gods,\nwith his people, and with himself.\n\nIn such fashion Tiresias calls into vision the course of the entire\npoem, and reaches even beyond it, embracing the whole life of Ulysses,\ntill he too descends for the last time into Hades. Verily the prophet\nis Past, Present and Future; his true abode is in the realm of pure\nspirit. He foretells, but the Future is prefigured as the outcome of\nwhat is universal; it must be so and not otherwise, else is the world a\nchaos. Thus Tiresias is put at the beginning, he being the typical\nperson of this Underworld, in which the deities, Pluto and Proserpine,\ndo not appear, being held in the dark background. The prophet telling\nhis prophecy is the very Figure of the Supersensible.\n\nBut again let us be reminded that these hints of pure universal thought\nare borne to us in images, in particular shapes, whereby ambiguity\nrises, and meaning runs double. Nevertheless the true-hearted reader\nwill go down with the old poet into Hades, and there behold in these\nimages things which lie beyond the senses; he will behold the very\nspirit of ancient Tiresias.\n\n2. Having seen the Man, Ulysses is next to behold the Famous Women of\nthe Past, which is still Pre-Trojan with one exception. Examples from\nall the relations of the woman in the Family are given: the mother, the\nmaiden, the wife. Tragic and happy instances are brought before\nus--ideal forms taken from the ancient Mythus of Hellas, and begetting\nin later times a prodigious number of works of art, in poetry,\nsculpture and painting. Here they are put into Hades, the place of the\nspirit unbodied, which will hereafter take on body in the drama, in the\nstatue, and in the picture. Ulysses witnesses these shapes in advance,\nand gives their idea, which is to be realized in the coming ages of\nHellas. Truly is Homer the primordial Hellenic seer, he who sees and\nsets forth the archetypal forms of the future of his race. Undoubtedly\nhe drew from mythical stores already existent, but he ordered them,\nshaped them anew, and breathed into them the breath of eternal life. No\nwonder the universal Greek hero must go to Hades to see these forms of\nthe Past which are, however, to live afresh in the Future.\n\nWe must also consider the audience of the singer. Who are present?\nFirst of all, Arete, mother and wife, together with Nausicaa, the\nmaiden, to these he is specially singing. Their importance in the\nPhaeacian world has been already indicated; naturally they wish to hear\nof woman in the Family. Accordingly this portion of the Eleventh Book,\nthe catalogue of Famous Women, or Homer's \"Legende of Good Women,\" is\norganized after the relations of domestic life. Three classes are\nsuggested: the mothers; the maidens and the wives, of the grey\naforetime.\n\nBut by all means the glory and the stress of the song are given to the\nmothers; the other two classes are very briefly dismissed, as being\nessentially described in the first. Arete is indeed the grand center\nand end of womanhood; Nausicaa as maid is but a transitory phase, and\nas wife she is to become mother, and then take her supreme place in the\nchain which upholds and perpetuates humanity. So the old Greek poet\nmust have thought; was he very far from right?\n\n    _a._ The first of these mothers to appear is Anticleia, the mother\n    of the Hero Ulysses, of the Hero who has made this remarkable\n    voyage to the world beyond, of its kind the supreme heroic act done\n    by a living mortal. She, however, belongs to the immediate Past,\n    and thus corresponds to the man, Elpenor, in the previous section,\n    though she of course has been buried. Note, therefore, this mark of\n    symmetrical structure.\n\n    It is the beautiful instinct of the mother, that she flits in the\n    ghost-world to her son at once, when the chance is afforded. She\n    has already appeared, even before Tiresias came; now she is the\n    first after that prophet, who gives directions to Ulysses\n    supplicating: \"Tell me, O Prophet, how shall my mother recognize me\n    as her son.\" Ulysses learns much from her about Ithaca, especially\n    about his father Laertes, who now never goes to the town but stays\n    in the fields, \"with a great sorrow in his heart, desiring thy\n    return, while old age weighs hard upon him.\" Such is the father,\n    still living, whom Ulysses may yet see.\n\n    The mother died from longing for her son and \"the memory of his\n    gentleness;\" still her longing brings her to him in the life\n    beyond. The great revelation is concerning the future state: the\n    soul is immortal, this fact Ulysses is to tell in Phaeacia. The\n    strong desire to behold the loved ones who have passed away is\n    indeed the impulse; but they too return, though insubstantial. It\n    is the primary groundwork of faith in immortality--this feeling of\n    the domestic relation affirming that it is eternal and cannot be\n    broken by death. Still the mother is but a ghost and cannot be\n    embraced; this the son has to accept, though he would have her in\n    flesh and blood.\n\n    _b._ At once there is the transition to the famous mothers of\n    legend--\"wives and daughters of Heroes\" says the poet, with, an eye\n    to his audience, which has men in it also, so he does not mention\n    mothers, though they are the burden of his strain. Here follows a\n    Catalogue of Women, giving them their due place in the genealogy\n    and destiny of distinguished houses. Three groups of these mothers\n    we may distinguish.\n\n    First is the group of mortal women who were embraced by some god,\n    and gave birth to heroic offspring. Tyro met Neptune and brought\n    forth Pelias and Neleus; from the latter sprang Nestor who connects\n    the Pre-Trojan and Trojan ages, since he appears both in the Iliad\n    and Odyssey. In the Third Book of the latter epos we have already\n    seen Nestor sacrificing to his divine ancestor; so the present\n    passage has its pertinence to the total poem. In the same group are\n    Antiope and Alemena, the latter of whom was the mother of Hercules,\n    whose father was Zeus. At the end of the present Book, Hercules\n    himself will appear as the supreme example of the Greek Hero.\n\n    Such were three typical mothers, famed in Hellenic legend, being\n    the women who bore Heroes, the offspring of Gods. It was deemed the\n    highest function of the Greek mother to bring forth a Hero, the\n    child of divinity, with an immortal portion. This view, in its\n    purely sensuous aspect, is dubious enough to the modern ethical\n    mind, still its real meaning must be looked at with sympathetic\n    vision, which sees therein the divine descent into mortal flesh, a\n    mythical utterance of the faith that the great man is the son of\n    God. The Christian view universalizes this conception, holding that\n    all men, and not merely the Heroes, are God's children. Yet the\n    Christian world has also retained its faith in the Son of God, son\n    by a mortal woman, which faith the old Greek had too, and expressed\n    in his way. Thus we may extract out of this Homeric account\n    something more than divine license; it has indeed a wonderful\n    pre-Christian suggestiveness, and gives a glimpse of the movement\n    of Universal Religion.\n\n    The second group of famous mothers are mortal women with mortal\n    husbands. The wedded wife brings up now the domestic relation,\n    which is passingly introduced by the spouse of Hercules, Megara,\n    who is simply mentioned. The two chief women of the group are\n    Epicaste and Chloris, the one supremely tragic in her motherhood,\n    the other reasonably happy. Epicaste is mother of OEdipus, who\n    marries her after slaying his own father who is her husband, both\n    deeds being done in ignorance; thus the closest domestic ties are\n    whelmed into guilt and tragedy, whereof Sophocles has made a\n    world-famous use, in his two dramas on the subject of OEdipus.\n    Chloris is, on the contrary, the mother of Nestor, not a tragic\n    character by any means; also she is mother of Pero, the beautiful\n    maiden, \"whom all the people around were wooing,\" and who was\n    happily won by an heroic deed. Mark the interest of those\n    listeners, Arete and Nausicaa, mother and daughter in this tale.\n    Thus the two women, Epicaste and Chloris, have opposite destinies,\n    and show the sharp contrasts of life.\n\n    In the third group are two mothers who have a double honor; each\n    has borne twins and heroic ones at that; moreover the Gods again\n    enter the domestic relation of mortals. Leda's sons are \"Castor the\n    horseman, and Pollux the boxer,\" the first being mortal, the second\n    immortal, and reputed son of Zeus, who permitted the immortal\n    brother to share his immortality with his mortal brother; hence\n    \"every other day they both are alive, and every other day they both\n    are dead.\" Again the divine gives itself to the human in the spirit\n    of true brotherhood; the son of Zeus takes on the ills of mortality\n    through fraternal love. The second mother of this group is\n    Iphidameia, who declares Neptune to be the father of Otus and\n    Ephialtes, of her monstrous twins, \"who at the age of nine years\n    threatened war upon the Gods,\" and proposed to storm heaven by\n    piling Mount Ossa upon Olympus and Pelion on top of that. Such is\n    the contrast: one set of sons is noble, worthy, and \"receive honor\n    like unto Gods;\" the other set is defiant, assailing the divine\n    order, and are slain by the arrows of Apollo \"ere the down\n    blossomed beneath their temples, and covered their chins with\n    tender furze.\"\n\n    _c._ Such, then, is the account of the mothers, the women who have\n    borne children famous in legend. They have taken up nearly the\n    whole of the present catalogue; the wives and maidens now come in\n    for brief mention, forming two groups, three persons to the group.\n    The poet is impartial, he introduces the faithful woman, Ariadne,\n    and the faithless woman, Eriphyle; in the one case man is the\n    betrayer of woman, and in the other case woman is the betrayer of\n    man. Possibly in Ariadne may be a little hint for Nausicaa, saying,\n    Beware.\n\n    But the singer is tired and sleepy; moreover has he not told the\n    essence of the matter in this portion of his song? He at once\n    dismisses any further account of famous women, \"wives and daughters\n    of Heroes,\" whom he saw in Hades. Nausicaa and Arete have had their\n    share, wonderful has been their interest in the struggles and\n    sufferings of their sex; they feel in themselves the possibility of\n    such conflicts. These ideal shapes of the olden time, product of\n    the myth-making Imagination, are types, are the ghosts of Hades\n    which Ulysses must see and know, ere he return to the Upperworld.\n\n\nII.\n\nWe now reach the second main division of the Book, which is marked by\nthe introduction of the audience, the Phaeacians, \"who were held rapt\nwith the charm\" of the story. Observe, too, that the palace was not\nbrilliantly illuminated, but shadowy--fit environment for fairy tales\n(line 334). This main division is again separated into two subordinate\ndivisions which embrace the Present and the Past, and thus is in\nstructure homologous with the preceding main division. Yet both the\nPresent and the Past are not now the same as the previous Present and\nPast.\n\nI. First of the hearers speaks out the mother, wife of Alcinous, Arete,\nin response to the compliment of Ulysses in singing of the Famous Women\nof Greek legend. \"Phaeacians, how does this man seem to you now in form,\nstature, and mind?\" Very different does he seem from what he once did;\nthus she gently apologizes for her previous treatment. She appreciates\nthe Hero; moreover, she asks that the high guest receive hospitable\ngifts without stint; \"for much wealth lies in your halls by the bounty\nof the Gods.\"\n\nHaving thus heard from the woman, we now are to hear from the man, the\nrepresentative Phaeacian, king Alcinous. In the first portion of the\nBook Ulysses and his companions were the Present to which the Past\nappeared in Hades. Now the Phaeacians are introduced as the Present,\nwhich is to hear the voice of the Past from Hades. Moreover, the Past\nis not the Pre-Trojan, but the Trojan Past, which we have already (in\nthe Eighth Book) seen to be dear to the Phaeacian heart. It is no\nwonder, then, that Alcinous, as soon as he can urge his request, calls\nfor a song about the Greco-Trojan Heroes in the Underworld. \"Tell us if\nthou didst see any of those godlike Argives who followed thee to Troy\nand there met their fate.\" Not the mother of the Hero, but the Hero\nhimself is now to be called up; the man wishes to listen to the deeds\nof man. Demodocus, the Phaeacian bard, always sung of some phase of the\nTrojan struggle, which was the popular subject of story and song in\nPhaeacia. Thus we note again how the famous Past, stored away in Hades,\nis made to flow into the Present, and to contribute an ideal of\nheroism, and a warning also, to the living.\n\nA touch of Homer as literary critic we should not pass by, as he does\nnot often take that part. Alcinous, praising the tale of Ulysses, says:\n\"Form of words is thine, and a noble meaning, and a mythus, as when a\nminstrel sings.\" Three important qualities of poetry are therein set\nforth: beauty of language, nobleness of content, and the fable in its\ntotality--all of which belong to the preceding narrative. Moreover,\nAlcinous draws a sharp contrast with that other sort of storytellers,\nmere liars, \"of whom the dark earth feeds many,\" who go about\n\"fabricating lies, out of which we, looking into them, can get\nnothing,\" can draw no meaning. Such at least is our view of this\npassage (line 366) about which there is a difference of opinion among\ncommentators. At any rate we catch a glimpse of Homeric literary\ncriticism in Homer, who states the requirements of good poetry, and\ncontrasts them with the \"liar\" or fabricator of yarns, which are\ncertainly devoid of the noble spirit or worthy content.\n\nSo Ulysses is asked to begin his Trojan story, always more interesting\nthan that catalogue of women, at which everybody began to yawn. \"It is\nnot yet time to go to sleep,\" cries Alcinous, \"the night here is\nunspeakably long,\" and still further, \"I would hold out till daylight,\"\nlistening to thy story.\n\nII. The Trojan Past, then, is the theme; we are to behold the ghosts of\nthose who were famous during the War at Troy, and immediately\nafterwards, both men and women. But the women are not here given a\nspecial portion to themselves, but are woven into the general\nnarrative. This part of the Book is sung for the men, the opposite sex\nis withdrawn into the background; still they will be duly mentioned,\nsince the whole conflict is over a woman. Moreover Alcinous wishes to\nhear what the heroic men are doing in the future world, whither too he\nmust go.\n\n1. Three Greek shades will pass before us, Agamemnon the Leader,\nAchilles the Hero, and Ajax the man of strength. We shall find them\nplaced in a certain contrast with Ulysses, who is shown greater than\nany of the three. All have been overwhelmed by fate through their own\nfolly or weakness, while Ulysses still lives, the master of fate, and\nbeholds them in Hades. Such is his triumph, which the shades themselves\ndeclare.\n\nFirst comes the soul of Agamemnon, the great King, who has the bond of\nauthority in common with King Alcinous. He tells the story of his own\nmurder in considerable detail, which story has been given twice already\nin the poem. A most impressive event to the Greek mind of Homer's age;\nthe greatest of the rulers is wretchedly cut off from his Return by his\nwife Clytaemnestra and her paramour AEgisthus. This Return is what points\nthe contrast between him and Ulysses; moreover the contrast is also\ndrawn between the wives of the two men, one the faithless and the other\nthe faithful woman. Still the wrong of Agamemnon is suggested by\nhimself: \"I heard the piteous voice of Cassandra, whom Clytaemnestra\nslew, crying for me; I, though dying, grasped for my sword,\" to no\npurpose, however. Surely the wife had her wrongs as well as the\nhusband, out of which double guilt AEschylus will construct his mighty\ntragedy.\n\nNext after the Leader, in due order comes the Hero of the Greeks before\nTroy, Achilles. He recognizes this descent to Hades as the greatest\ndeed of Ulysses: \"What greater deed, rash man, wilt thou plan next?\" It\nis verily the most wonderful part of his Return, overtopping anything\nthat Achilles did. Still Ulysses pays him the meed of heroship: \"We\nArgives honored thee as a God, while living, and now thou art powerful\namong the dead; therefore do not sorrow at thy death, O Achilles.\" But\nhe answers that he would rather be the humblest day laborer to a poor\nman than to be King of the Shades. It is not his world, he longs for\nthe realm of heroic action, here he has no vocation. No Troy to be\ntaken, no Hector to be vanquished down in Hades; the heroic man must\nsigh for the Upper World with its activity. Some consolation he gets\nfrom the account which Ulysses gives of his son, who was in the Wooden\nHorse and distinguished himself at Troy for bravery. Thus the father\nlives in his son and \"strides off delighted through the meadow of\nasphodel.\" This plant is usually regarded as the _Asphodelus ramosus_,\na kind of lily with an edible tuberous root, still planted, it is said,\non graves, to furnish to the dead some food which grows in the earth.\nThis ancient custom has been supposed to be the source of the legend of\nits being transplanted to Hades.\n\nThe third heroic shade is that of Ajax, son of Telamon, with whom\nUlysses had a rivalry, the story of which runs as follows: After the\ndeath of Achilles, Thetis his mother offered his arms, the work of\nVulcan, to the worthiest of the remaining Greek heroes. The contest lay\nbetween Ajax and Ulysses. Agamemnon would not decide, but referred the\nquestion to the Trojan prisoners present, asking them which of the two\ncontestants had done them the most injury. They said Ulysses. Whereupon\nAjax went crazy and slew himself. Now he appears in Hades, still\nunreconciled; it is really the most wretched lot of all. Ulysses here\nspeaks the reconciling word, growing tender and imploring; but the hero\n\"answered not, darting away with the other shades into Erebos.\" Wherein\nwe may well see how much greater in spirit Ulysses was than his big\nmuscular rival. He has reached in this respect the true outcome of\nlife's discipline: to have no revenges, and to speak the word of\nreconciliation.\n\nIn fact the superiority of Ulysses over all these heroes is clearly\nmanifested. He brings no captive woman home to his domestic hearth, and\nhence he has a right to count upon Penelope's fidelity, though\ncertainly he shows himself no saint in his wanderings. Moreover\nAgamemnon lacked foresight in his Return, which Ulysses will exhibit in\na supreme degree when he first touches his native soil. The second\nhero, Achilles, could not conquer Troy, then he could not conquer\nHades; yet both are conquered by Ulysses who is thus the greater.\nFinally unreconciled Ajax--all are limited, incomplete, in contrast\nwith the complete, limit-removing Hero, who has just removed even the\nlimit of Death in the only way possible. Verily to him they have become\nshadows, that whole heroic world before Troy is now put by him into\nHades.\n\nThus we see that, while the characters belong to the Trojan time, there\nis a movement out of that period, it is transcended. The background\nhere is the Iliad, yet the incidents are taken from the Trojan war\nafter the action of the Iliad is brought to a close. The fates of the\nthree great heroes of that poem are not given in the poem; here they\nare given with a tragic emphasis. Thus the Odyssey carries forward the\nIliad, supplements it, and forms its real conclusion, both being in\nfact one poem. In the full blaze of the glory of Achilles the Iliad\nends; but he cannot take Troy; and still less, after his death, can\nAjax; the divine armor must go to Ulysses who has brain, then can the\ncity be taken. Even the son of Achilles will fight under Ulysses and\nenter the Trojan Horse, the work of Pallas, of Intelligence. Thus we\ncatch here as in other places, glimpses of the unity of both the Iliad\nand the Odyssey, the great work reflecting the one national\nconsciousness of Hellas in its complete cycle.\n\n2. We should not fail to cast a separate glance at the three typical\nwomen of the Trojan epoch--Helen, Clytemnestra, Penelope--in contrast\nwith the three heroes already described. They are all mentioned and\ncompared in the speech of Agamemnon, but do not form an organic part of\nthe Book by themselves, as do the Pre-Trojan women. They are wives, and\nwifehood not motherhood, as in the previous case, is the phase of the\ndomestic relation which is the theme of song and struggle in their\nlives. Possible its present importance is the reason why wifehood was\ndismissed with so brief mention in the portion concerning the famous\nmothers.\n\nNote, then, the gradation of the three: Clytemnestra is the fallen\nunrestored; Helen is the fallen restored; Penelope is the unfallen, who\nkeeps a home for her absent husband during twenty years. The tragic,\nthe mediated, the pure; or, to take a later analogy, the infernal, the\npurgatorial, the paradisaical; such are the three typical female\ncharacters of Homer, ranging from guilt, through repentance, to\ninnocence. In this framework lies quite all possible characterization.\nNaturally Agamemnon shows a bitter vein of misogyny, with only his wife\nin view; but he takes it all back when he thinks of Penelope.\n\nTwo of these women, Helen and Penelope, are still alive and do not\nbelong to the realm of Hades; the ghost of the third, Clytemnestra,\ndoes not appear. Still all three are mentioned here in the text, and\nstand in relation to the three Greco-Trojan heroes, none of whom were\nrestored through the Return. Ulysses, however, is the real solution of\nthem all; he spans all their inadequacies, masters their fates, and\nreaches home. The three Greek heroes above mentioned fell by the way in\nthe course of the grand problem, and are seen in Hades, complaining,\nunhappy, showing their full limitation. To a degree they are suffering\nthe penalty of their own shortcomings: which fact prepares us for the\nthird and last phase of the Underworld.\n\n\nIII.\n\nWe now come to a new division of the Book, which forms in itself a\ncomplete little poem, yet is derived directly from the preceding\ndivisions, and is harmonious with them in thought, development and\nstructure. Undoubtedly there is a difference here, but the difference\nmeans not absolute separation but a connected unfolding of parts. The\npresent division has been assailed more violently by the critics and\ntorn out of its place with greater unanimity than any other portion of\nthe Odyssey, with the possible exception of portions of the last two\nBooks. Let us confess, however, that our tendency is to reconcile, if\nthis can be done, the discords and to knit together the rent garment,\nby threads not always on the surface, but very real to any eye which is\nwilling to look underneath.\n\nUnquestionably a punitive element enters now, there is guilt and\npunishment in Hades. But who has not felt that in the preceding\ndivision the three Greek heroes were under the inevitable penalty of\ntheir own deeds? Very natural is the transition. Indeed the three\ndivisions of the Book show a gradual movement toward a penal view of\nHades: the first (Tiresias and the Famous Mothers) has a slight\nsuggestion of the penalty; the second (the three Greek heroes) has the\nidea of punishment implicit everywhere; the third makes the idea\nexplicit and organizes itself upon the same.\n\nAgain, there is a change of style, which now is strongly tinged with\nthe Orphic, initiatory, symbolical manner, in marked contrast with the\nclear-flowing narrative which has just preceded. But we noticed the\nsame characteristic before, in the first division of the Book, where\nthe sacrificial rites and the part of Tiresias were given. Homer has\nmany styles, not each style has many Homers, nor is there a new Homer\nneeded for each change of style. Note the great varieties of style in\nthe two Parts of Faust by way of illustration. Moreover we here pass\ninto the dim Pre-Trojan epoch, as was the case in the first division,\nbut guilt is now flung into that time and with it the penalty. Hoary,\ngigantic shapes of eld do wrong to the Gods, and are put into the\npunitory Hades. Thus this third division returns to the first with its\nown new principle. In truth one may say that Homer herein shows\nfeatures akin to Hesiod; well, Homer is Hesiod and many more.\n\nWe hold, therefore, that this third division is an organic part of the\nBook both in idea and structure; it carries to completion the thought\nof a world-justice, which Tiresias has already declared in his speech\nto Ulysses, and which is exemplified in the three Greek heroes. Thus it\nunfolds what lies in the first two divisions, and links them together\nin a new and deeper thought. For this realm of Hades, hitherto a\ndistracted spot without any apparent order, now gets organized with its\nown Justiciary and its own Law. Yet here too we shall find a solution\nand a parallel; just as Ulysses was the true hero at Troy, standing\nabove all the others and solving their problems, so Hercules is the\ngreat Pre-Trojan hero, saving himself at last and rising to Olympus.\nFinally the two careers of Ulysses and Hercules are affirmed to be\nidentical. This division, therefore, falls of itself into three\nportions: (1) the Judge, (2) the condemned, (3) the redeemed. Thus the\nwhole forms a complete little cycle within itself.\n\n1. Minos, the Judge, was the ancient king of Crete, where he was\nlawgiver and suppressed wrong-doing on sea and land. Here he continues\nhis vocation, which demands the assigning of the just penalty to the\nguilty. He is manifestly the type of Justice, both punishing and\nrewarding; as punisher he has been transferred by Dante to the Inferno.\nLater Greek legend united with him two other judges, his brothers,\nRhadamanthys and AEacus.\n\n2. We have next four instances of punishment, though this is apparently\nof different degrees. The wrong, however, is not stated except in the\ncase of Tityos, which probably hints the general nature of the misdeeds\nof the three others. The poet takes for granted that his hearer could\nfill out each legend for himself. In every case there was evidently\nsome violation done to the Gods, not to men--some crime against\nOlympus. The period is thrown back into the Pre-Trojan time, into the\nage of the demigods and of the free intercourse between mortals and\nimmortals; thus it is parallel with the first division of the Book. But\nnow judgment has entered the Houses of Hades along with the penalty.\n\nThe guilt of Orion is that of love between a mortal and a Goddess,\nAurora, which violation was punished by the \"soft bolts\" of Artemis,\nprotectress of chastity. This legend has already been alluded to by\nCalypso. (Book V. line 121.) Jealous are the Gods of that mortal man\nwith whom a Goddess falls in love, and with good reason. Orion's\npunishment is an eternal chase, the hunter is compelled to hunt\nforever, repeating what he did in life. Perhaps not a heavy punishment\nfor one who is fond of hunting; yet a tremendous burden, if never\ninterrupted with rest; indeed it becomes a labor quite like the labor\nof Sisyphus, ever repeated. Of Tityos both the guilt and punishment are\nindicated; the legend is similar to and yet in contrast with that of\nOrion; in the one the Goddess approaches the mortal and in the other\nthe mortal approaches the Goddess; hence, too, the severer punishment\nin the latter case. The second legend ought to be completed here by a\nfact derived from the story of Prometheus: the liver grows as fast as\nthe vultures rend or consume it; thus again rises the idea of infinite\nrepetition, now of suffering, not of action, for Orion is active.\n\nThe next two forms, Tantalus and Sisyphus, have also a kinship. Both\nhad known secrets of the Gods and had betrayed them; Tantalus is also\nreported to have taken away nectar and ambrosia from the Olympian table\nafter being a guest there; Sisyphus revealed to the river-god Asopus\nthe secret that Zeus had spirited away the latter's daughter, AEgina.\nThe penalty is that Tantalus remains perpetually hungry and thirsty,\nwith sight of food and drink always before his eyes; he cannot reach\nthem when he strives. The finite, with an infinite longing, cannot\ncompass the infinite; the man loses it just when he grasps for it--a\ntruly Greek penalty for a sin against the Greek world, which rests upon\nthe happy harmonious unity of the spirit with the body and with nature.\nThe Christian or Romantic longing and grasping for the Beyond is to the\nGreek soul a punishment of Hades. Tantalus with his hunger and thirst\nseems to represent more the striving of the intellect to attain the\nunattainable; while Sisyphus suggests the effort of the will--practical\nendeavor, the eternal routine of mechanical employment, which always\nhas to begin over again. Etymology brings also a suggestion. Both names\nare reduplicated; in Tantalus is the root of the word which means to\nsuffer; in Sisyphus, lurks the signification of craft; it hints the\nwise or crafty planner (_sophos_) who always pushes the act to a point\nwhere it undoes itself or must be done over again. Note the effect of\nthis reduplication of the first syllables, which means repetition; over\nand over again, in an infinite series must the matter be gone through,\nin suffering and in doing; the very words are in labor.\n\nIndeed this indicates the common element in these four punishments: the\nendless repetition of the struggle of finitude. The first two, Orion\nand Tityos, reached out for Goddesses, being mortals; the second two,\nstill mortals, but in communion with deities, attempted to bring down\ndivine secrets to earth; the one set strove to make the finite\ninfinite, the other to make the infinite finite. Both were contrary to\nthe nature of the Greek mind, which sought to keep the happy balance\nbetween the two sides, between body and spirit, between the temporal\nand eternal. Now the punishment of these people is to give them their\ninfinite, but in the form of an infinite repetition of their finite\nact, which is just the spirit-crushing penalty. The power of these two\ntypes, Tantalus and Sisyphus, is shown by the fact that all ages since\nHomer have adopted them and wrought them over into many forms of art\nand poetry.\n\nHere then is the unsolved problem of the Greek world, a problem which\nthe Christian world has met and answered. Tantalus and Sisyphus are in\npain and toil simply through themselves; man, however, must have the\npower to reach the apples, and roll the stone up hill, he must assert\nhimself as limit-transcending, as infinite, for once and for all, and\nnot caught in an infinite series, which is a veritable mill of the\nGods, that is, of the Greek Gods. Now this strange fact comes to light:\nHomer, seer that he is, has a dim consciousness of this solution, and\nfaintly but prophetically embodies it in a new figure, namely, that of\nHercules, which we shall now consider.\n\n3. The Homeric solution is to divide the man, or to double him, into\nhis shade (eidolon) and his self. The former belongs to Hades and\nappears now; it is the finite Hercules with his striving and labors; he\nstill has his bow and arrow, is ready to slay beasts, snakes, and\nbirds. He is in quite the same punishment as Orion or even Sisyphus,\nthe penalty of all finitude is upon him. Yet the other side is given,\nthat of victory. \"I, though the son of the highest God, Zeus, had to\nendure boundless tribulation.\" Strangely Christian does this sound. \"I\nwas put under service to a far inferior man to myself, who laid upon me\nbitter labors.\" The higher must serve and save the lower. \"Then the\nmightiest labor I performed, I came down hither to Hades alive and\ndragged thence the dog Cerberus\"--conquered the great terror of the\nUnderworld. Thus Hercules has really transcended Hades, and so we read\nhere that \"he himself is among the immortal Gods, in bliss,\" that is,\nhis infinite nature is there, while the finite part is still below in\nHades. Such is the old poet's far-cast glance, reaching deep into the\nfuture and beyond the Greek world.\n\nStill another significant word is spoken. \"O Ulysses, unhappy man! Thou\ndost experience the same hard fate which I endured upon the earth.\"\nThus does Hercules identify the career of Ulysses with his own--the\nsame striving and suffering, and the same final victory, the peace of\nOlympus. Who cannot attain the latter is a Tantalus, seeking but never\nreaching the fruit. Such is the outcome and culmination of Hades; after\nHercules has spoken, no further word is heard by Ulysses.\n\nDante, whose poem on so many lines grows out of this Eleventh Book, has\nalso the same duplication of the person in his Paradise. The soul is in\nits special planet, Venus, Mars, etc., and also it is in the highest\nHeaven, enjoying the Vision of God. But Dante universalizes the Greek\nview, making it truly Christian; all men are children of God and can\nattain the seats of the Blessed, not merely the one man, the Hero\nHercules. Still even here the inference is that Ulysses must also be\ntransferred to Olympus, though no such declaration is made.\n\nWe hope the reader feels how inadequate Hades would be, and how\nincomplete the experience of Ulysses would be, if this last division of\nthe Book were cut out. The wanderer has now gone through the total\ncycle of the Underworld, not only outwardly, but inwardly; he is just\nready to step out of it, because he is beyond it in spirit. This last\nstep is now to be given in Homeric fashion.\n\nThere is a danger at present rising strongly into consciousness, a\ndanger inherent in this too-long contemplation of Hades; it is the\ndanger of the Gorgon, the monster whose view turns the spectator into\nstone, taking away all sensation, emotion, life. The Greek sooner or\nlater must quit Hades, and flee from its shapes; the supersensible\nworld he must transfuse into the sensible, else the former will rush\nover into the fantastic, the horrible, the ugly. The Gorgon is down in\nHades too, having been slain in the terrestrial Upperworld by a Greek\nHero, Perseus, who slew the monster of the Orient which once guarded\nthe fair Andromeda, a kind of Pre-Trojan Helen, chained in captivity,\nwhom the heroic Hellenic soul came to release. Ulysses has now reached\nthe Greek limit, Oriental phantasms will rise unless there be a speedy\nreturn to the reality, to the realm of sense. Hades has furnished its\nhighest image in Hercules, beware of its worst. Already the Underworld\nhas been in danger of running into the fantastic; then Beauty, the\nHellenic ideal, would be lost. The figures of Homeric Hades hitherto\nhave all been men and women, but the monsters are ready to come forth.\nSo they did come forth in the later Greek world under the spur of\nOriental influence; witness the Revelations of St. John in the Island\nof Patmos, joint product of Greek and Hebrew spirit, showing truly the\ndissolution of the Hellenic ideal.\n\nThus Ulysses, the supreme spiritual Hero of the Greeks, is shown\nrunning away from the Underworld, fearing to look upon coming shapes in\nHades; about which fact two reflections can be made: first, Ulysses had\nto do this in order to remain a Greek; secondly, the poet clearly\nannounces, in such an action, that there is another world lying beyond\nhis world, that underneath the Greek Hades is another Hades, which\nthreatens to rise into view. That Hades will burst up hereafter and\nbecome the Christian Hell. Ulysses confesses that there is a realm\nbeyond him there, which he has not conquered, has not even dared to\nsee, and thus he significantly points to the future. The Gorgon is a\nshadowy anticipation of fiends, of devils, of the infernal monsters of\nthe Romantic Netherworld of Dante, who is to be the next great Hero,\npassing into the dark world beyond with a new light. To be sure, Virgil\nsends AEneas into Orcus, and makes such descent a Book of his poem, but\nVirgil too speaks of a realm beyond his Orcus, which his Hero does not\nenter. Thus the Roman poet shows substantially the same limits as the\nGreek poet, whom he has for the most part copied.\n\nHere again we find a conception embodied in song, on which the human\nmind has moved through many ages. Poetry, Art, Theology, have taken\nfrom this Eleventh Book of the Odyssey many creative hints: it is truly\nan epoch-making work in the history of man's spiritual unfolding. As\nalready stated, Virgil repeats it, Dante grows out of it and makes it\nover, in accord with the spirit of Christendom, which has many a root\nrunning back to this Homeric Hades. The present Book may be called the\nGreek prophecy heralding medieval Art, and shows old Homer\nforeshadowing Romanticism. Did he not see the limits of his world? The\nparticular connecting link between two Literary Bibles, Homer and\nDante, is just the present Book, even if Dante never read Homer. For\nthe study of Universal Literature it is, therefore, a specially\nimportant document. A many-sided production also; its poetic, its\nreligious, its artistic, its philosophical sides are all present in\nfull activity and put to test the spiritual alertness of the reader.\n\nWherein does the negative nature of Hades lie? The question rises from\nthe fact that Ulysses in Fableland has been declared to be passing\nthrough various negative phases; such is the expression often used\nalready. First of all, it is a negating of the sensible world and a\ngoing into the supersensible, a seeking of the spirit without the body.\nHades was quite the opposite of the Greek mind, which demanded\nembodiment, and hence was inherently artistic. Still the Greek mind\ncreated a Hades, and finally went over into the pure Idea in Plato and\nthe philosophers. Even Homer seems to feel that philosophy is at last a\nneedful discipline, that the abstract thought must be taken from its\nconcrete wrappage, that the Universal must be freed from the\nParticular.\n\nUlysses has to pass through Hades in order to complete the cycle of his\nexperience, and realize what is beyond the senses; he must know the\nspirit apart from the body in this life; he must see the Past as it is\nin its great disembodied minds; he must behold the famous heroes of\nTroy as they are in reality, not as they are in the glamor of poetry.\nAs tested by their life and deeds he sees them below in the\nNetherworld; Greek souls stark naked in Hades he beholds, and then\nrises out of it.\n\n_Retrospect._ Very important, in our judgment, is this Eleventh Book;\nit is really one of the sacred documents of Universal Religion, as well\nas a great creative idea in the World's Literature, But it has fared\nbadly as to its friends; for interpretation it usually falls into the\nhands of the negative, merely critical Understanding, which has the\nunfortunate habit of turning Professor of Greek, commentator on Homer,\nand philologer generally. In order to grasp and connect its leading\npoints more completely, we shall look back at the thought and structure\nof the Book once more.\n\nFirst of all, there must be felt and seen the necessity of taking this\njourney to the Netherworld on the part of the Hero, the complete person\nof his time. The very conception of the universal man must include the\nvisit to the realm of the Idea; the passage from the sensible to the\nsupersensible, is the deepest need of his soul. Homer can give this\nspiritual movement only in a mythical form, hence it occurs here in\nFableland. So Ulysses has to make the transition from Circe to Hades.\n\nHaving the entire Book now before us, we observe that it shows a\nthreefold movement; that is, one movement with three leading stages.\nThese take the shape of three communications from the realm of the\ndead, which includes all past Time, imparted to the living who are now\npresent, namely the Phaeacians, through Ulysses, who has had this cycle\nof experiences and now sings them. But that which is true in past Time\nmust be seen to be true in all Time--Past, Present and Future. So there\nunfolds the idea of a World-Order, foretold at first by the Pre-Trojan\nprophet Tiresias, illustrated by the fate of the three Greco-Trojan\nheroes in Hades, and finally realized and active in the realm of Minos.\nThe whole has, therefore, the secret underlying thought of a\nworld-tribunal, which works through all human history; it is a kind of\nLast Judgment to which the deeds of men are appealed for final\nadjudication; it most profoundly suggests in its movement the ethical\norder of the Universe. Let us briefly sum up its three stages.\n\nI. The first communication from the Hades of the Past to the real world\nof the Present through Ulysses is that of the prophet Tiresias, \"whose\nmind is whole;\" he may be called the pure Idea (as subjective) uttering\nthe Idea (as objective, as principle of the world). For he beholds the\ntruth of things as they are in their essence, he himself being the\nimpersonation of Truth. Thus he looks through the Future and foretells;\nhe knows that Neptune will avenge the deed done to Polyphemus, that the\nOxen of the Sun constitute a great danger, that Ulysses will punish the\nSuitors; then he prophesies the peace and final harmony of Ulysses\nafter his long conflict and separation from home, country, and the\nDivine Order.\n\nSo speaks Tiresias and is therein a kind of world-judge, prefiguring\nMinos of the last stage of Hades. For he prophesies according to the\nlaw of the deed; what you have done is sure to return upon you, be it\ngood or bad. Hence he can tell what will happen to Ulysses for acts\nalready committed (the wrath of Neptune); he can give a warning\nconcerning things which Ulysses may do (the slaying of the Oxen of the\nSun); he can affirm the certain punishment of guilt (the case of the\nSuitors). Thus the prophet voices a world-justice, which inflicts the\npenalty unflinchingly, but also bears within itself reconciliation.\nSuch is the prophetic Idea, appearing in advance, not yet ordered and\nrealized.\n\nII. The second communication from Hades to the Phaeacians through\nUlysses comes from the Trojan Past, and is voiced by the three most\nfamous heroes of the Iliad--Achilles, Agamemnon, Ajax (the last one,\nhowever, does not speak, but acts out his communication). All three are\ntragic characters, are the victims of fate, that is, of their own fatal\nlimitations. Such is the world-judgment here, it is really pronounced\nby themselves upon themselves in each case. Agamemnon states his own\nguilt, Achilles shows his limit by his complaint, Ajax does not need to\nspeak. Ulysses simply listens and sees; now he tells the story of Troy\nand its heroes anew to the Present, indicating how they have put\nthemselves into Hades.\n\nThe intimate connection between this part and the preceding part of\nTiresias is plain. The prophet has forecast the law which rules these\nheroes also; they are truly illustrations of his prophecy, or of its\nunderlying principle. They expose the heroic insufficiency of that\nTrojan time; they are the negative, tragic phases of greatness, which\nhave also to submit at last to the law of compensation. Thus is the\nillustrious Trojan epoch judged and sent down below; but mark! Ulysses,\nof that same epoch, survives, is present, and is singing the judgment.\n\nIII. The world-justice which ideally underlies the prophecies of\nTiresias in the first part of the present Book, and which is the secret\nmoving principle in the fates of the three Greco-Trojan heroes in the\nsecond part, becomes explicit, recognized and ordered in the third\npart, which is now to be given. There is first the world-judge, Minos,\nfamous for his justice during life, distributing both penalties and\nrewards in the Netherworld. Secondly we see the condemned ones, Orion,\nTityus, Tantalus, Sisyphus (mark the significant reduplication of the\nroot in the names of each one of them). All four are represented as\nhaving wronged the Gods in some way; they have violated the Divine\nOrder, according to the Greek conception; hence the tribunal of\nworld-justice, now organized and at work in Hades, takes them in hand.\nTo be sure, the text of Homer does not say that they were sentenced by\nthe decree of Minos, but such is certainly the implication. These four\nhad a common sin, to the Greek mind: they sought to transcend the limit\nwhich the Gods have placed upon finite man, hence the image of their\npenalty lies in the endless repetition of their acts, which is also\nsuggested in their names. Orion has always to pursue and slay the wild\nbeast, never getting the work done; the liver of Tityus grows and\nswells afresh (root from _tu_, meaning to swell, Latin _tumor_) though\nbeing consumed by the vultures; in like manner Tantalus and Sisyphus\nhave ever-repeated labors. Such is the glimpse here of the Greek Hades\nof eternal punishment. Now comes the curious fact that the heroic man\nthrough labor and suffering can rise out of this Hades of finitude; he\ncan satisfy the demand of world-justice, and rise to Olympus among the\nblessed Gods. Such was Hercules, and such is to be Ulysses, who now\nhaving seen the culmination of Hades and heard its prophecy of his\nfuture state, leaves it and returns to the Upperworld.\n\nUndoubtedly these thoughts of future punishment and reward are very dim\nand shadowy in Homer; still they are here in this Eleventh Book of the\nOdyssey, and find their true interpretation in that view of the life to\ncome into which they unfolded with time. The best commentary on this\nBook, we repeat, is the _Divine Comedy_ of Dante, the grand poem of\nfuturity, which carries out to fullness the order, of which we here\ncatch a little glimpse.\n\n\n\n\n_BOOK TWELFTH._\n\n\nUlysses flees from the Underworld, there is something down there which\nhe feels he cannot master, something which he has not seen but of which\nhe has a vague presentiment. The Gorgon stands for much, dimly\nforeshadowing a Hades beyond or below the Greek Hades, with which,\nhowever, it is not his call to grapple. Hence the poet puts upon his\nHero a limitation at this point, strangely prophetic, and sends him in\nhaste back to the terrestrial Upperworld. The bark crossed the stream\nof the \"river Oceanus,\" then it entered \"the wide-wayed Sea\" in which\nlay the island of Circe, \"where are the houses of the Dawn, and her\ndances, and the risings of the Sun.\" Verily the Hero has got back to\nthe beginning of the world of light, in which he is now to have a new\nspan of existence after his experience in the supersensible realm.\n\nFrom the brief geographical glances which we catch up from the voyage,\nas well as from a number of hints scattered throughout the Odyssey (for\ninstance, from what is said of the Ethiopians in the First Book), we\nare inclined to believe that Homer held the earth to be round. We like\nto think of the old Poet seeing this fact, not as a deduction of\nscience, not even as a misty tradition from some other land, but as an\nimmediate act of poetic insight, which beholds the law of the physical\nworld rising out of the spiritual by the original creative fiat; the\nPoet witnesses the necessity by which nature conforms to mind. Homer\nknew the spiritual Return, this whole Odyssey is such a Return, whereby\nthe soul is rounded off to completeness, and becomes a true totality.\nWhy should he not apply the same law to nature, to the whole Earth, and\nbehold it, not indefinitely extended as it appears to the senses, but\nreturning into itself, whereby the line becomes a circle and the plain\na globe? Some such need lay deep in his poetic soul, to which he had to\nharmonize the entire universe, visible as well as invisible. Not\nscience is this, but an immediate vision of the true, always prophetic,\nwhich observes the impress of spirit everywhere upon the realm of\nmatter. The old Greek sages seem to have known not merely of the\nrotundity of the Earth, but also of its movement round the Sun and upon\nits own axis, both movements being circular, returns, which image mind.\nDid they get their knowledge from Egypt or Chaldea? Questionable; if\nthey looked inwardly deep enough, they could find it all there. Indeed\nthe sages of Egypt and Chaldea saw the fact in their souls ere they saw\nit or could see it in the skies.\n\nSo these Homeric glimpses into the realm of what is to become science\nare not to be neglected or despised, in spite of their mythical,\nambiguous vesture. Moreover they are in profound harmony with the\npresent poem, to which they furnish remote, but very suggestive\nparallels, making the physical universe correspond to the spiritual\nunfolding of the Hero.\n\nUlysses, accordingly, comes back to the sensible world and there he\nfinds Circe again. Indeed whom else ought he to find? She is the bright\nGreek realm of the senses reposing in sunlight; she has been\nsubordinated to the rational, she is no longer the indulgence of\nappetite which turns men to swine, nor is she, on the other hand, the\nrigid ascetic. Hence we need not be surprised at her bringing good\nthings to eat and drink: \"bread and many kinds of meat and sparkling\nred wine.\" Moreover, she is still prophetic, she still has the outlook\nupon the Beyond, being spirit in the senses. Her present prophecies,\nhowever, will be different from her former one, she will point to the\nsupersensible, not in Hades, for that is now past, but in the\nUpperworld of life and experience. Such is the return of the Hero to\nCirce, the fair, the terrestrial, who makes existence beautiful if she\nbe properly held in restraint; beautiful as sunlit Hellas with its\nplastic forms she can become, in striking contrast to the dark shapes\nof the sunless Underworld which leads to the Gorgon, the realm of\nspooks, shades, fiends, in general of romanticism.\n\nSo much for Circe in her new relation in the present Book; how about\nUlysses? It is manifest that he too is prepared for a fresh experience.\nHe has been in the Underworld and great has been the profit. There he\nhas seen the famous men and women of old and beheld the very heart of\ntheir destiny; the Trojan and the Pre-Trojan worthies sweeping backward\nthrough all Greek time he has witnessed and in part heard; he has\nbecome acquainted with the prophet Tiresias who knows Past, Present and\nFuture, who is the universal mind in its purity from all material\ndross; he has beheld the Place of Doom and its penalties, as well as\nthe supreme Greek Hero, the universal man of action, Hercules. Nor must\nwe forget that he has run upon a limitation, that Gorgon from whom he\nfled. Truly he has obtained in this journey to Hades a grand experience\nof the Past, of all Greek ages, which is now added to his own personal\nexperience. So this Past, with its knowledge, is to be applied to the\nFuture, whereby knowledge becomes foreknowledge, and experience is to\nbe transformed into prophecy. Mark then the transition from the\nprevious to the present Book: when Ulysses comes back to the world of\nsense, he will at once see in it the supersensible, which he has just\nbehold; he must hear in the Present a prophetic voice, that of Circe\nproclaiming the Future.\n\nThus Ulysses is now ready to listen to the coming event and to\nunderstand its import. It is to be observed that up to the Eleventh\nBook he has had experience merely; he took everything as it came, by\nchance, without knowing of it beforehand; he simply happens upon the\nLotus-eaters, Polyphemus, Circe, though the careful reader has not\nfailed to note an interior thread of connection between all these\nadventures. As to Hades, it is pointed out to him in advance by Circe,\nthough all is not foretold him; but in the Twelfth Book, now to be\nconsidered, he has everything in detail laid open to him beforehand. A\ngreat change in manner of treatment; why? Because Ulysses must be shown\nas having reached the stage of foreknowledge through his journey to\nHades; hitherto he was the mere empirical man, or blind adventurer,\nsurrendering himself to hazard and trusting to his cunning for getting\nout of trouble. But now he foresees, and Circe is the voice thereof; he\nknows what he has to go through before he starts, here in the\nUpperworld, to which he has come back, and through whose conflicts he\nis still to pass, for life has not yet ended. Such, we think, is the\nfruit of that trip to the Underworld, the supersensible is seen in the\nsensible, and the Future becomes transparent.\n\nAccordingly Circe foretells, and Ulysses foreknows; the two are\ncounterparts. Then he simply goes through what has been predicted, he\nfills up the outline with the deed.\n\nThis is the essential fact of the Book, which is organized by it into\ntwo portions, namely the prophecy and the fulfillment; Circe has one\npart, Ulysses the other. Moreover each part exhibits the same general\nmovement, which has three phases with the same names: the Sirens, the\nPlangctae on the one hand with Scylla and Charybdis on the other, and\nthe Oxen of the Sun.\n\n\nI.\n\nAs soon as Ulysses, after coming back from Hades, had performed the\nlast rites over the corpse of Elpenor, Circe appears and makes a\nstriking address: \"O ye audacious, who still living have gone down to\nthe house of Hades--ye twice-dead, while others die but once.\" Such is\none side of Circe, now rises the other: \"But come, eat food, drink wine\nthe whole day;\" let us have a Greek festival ere new labors begin. Then\nCirce holds a private conference with Ulysses, she asked each thing\n\"about the journey to Hades,\" which, it seems, she must know ere she\ncan foretell the remaining part.\n\nOne cannot help feeling in this passage that the poet hints that these\nprophecies of Circe have some connection with what Ulysses imparts to\nher concerning Hades. Indeed she repeats what Tiresias had already\nforetold in reference to the Oxen of the Sun--a matter which she\nprobably heard from Ulysses. Cannot the other two adventures be derived\nin a general way from the experiences of the Underworld? The Past seems\nhere to furnish the groundwork for the predictions of the Future, and\nCirce, knowing what has been in the pure forms of the supersensible,\nbecomes the voice of what is to be.\n\n1. First come the Sirens, whom Ulysses will have to meet again, as he\nhas often met them before. Indeed Circe herself was once a Siren, a\ncharmer through the senses. The present Sirens are singers, and entice\nto destruction through the sense of hearing, inasmuch as \"heaps of\nbones lie about them,\" evidently the skeletons of persons who have\nperished through their seductive song. Pass them the man must; what is\nto be done? He will have somehow to guard against his sensuous nature\nand keep it from destroying itself. Yet on the other hand he must\nenjoy, which is his right in this world of sensations; each good music\nmust be heard. So Circe tells of the scheme of putting wax into his\ncompanions' ears, while he is bound to the mast. Already Tiresias\nwarned Ulysses in the Underworld to hold his appetite in check and that\nof his companions, if he wished to return home. This warning Circe now\nrepeats, indeed she repeats in a new mythical form her own experience,\nfor she, the Siren, has also been met by Ulysses and mastered. Yet\nthese later charmers seem to have been more dangerous. When they are\npassed, a new peril rises of necessity.\n\n2. Next we behold an image, or rather two sets of images, of the grand\ndualism of existence. That escape from the Sirens is really no solution\nof the problem, it is external and leaves the man still unfree, still\nsubject to his senses. There must be somehow an inner control through\nthe understanding, an intellectual subordination. But just here trouble\nsprings up again. The mind has two sides to it, and is certain to fall\ninto self-opposition. Two are the ways after parting from the Sirens,\nsays Circe: \"I shall tell thee of both.\"\n\nOne way is by the Plangctae (rocks which clasp together); here no bird\ncan fly through without getting caught, even the doves of Zeus pay the\npenalty. \"No ship of men, having gone thither, has ever escaped\"--except\nthe God-directed Argo: surely a sufficient warning. Then the second way\nalso leads to two rocks, but of a different kind; at their bases in the\nsea are found Scylla, the monstrous sea-bitch, on one side, and\nCharybdis, the yawning maelstrom, on the other; between them Ulysses\nmust pass with his ship and companions.\n\nIt is manifest that here are two alternatives, one after the other; the\nfirst is that of the Plangctae, the Claspers, which mean Death, unless\nthey be avoided, yet this avoidance does not always mean Life. We can\ntrace the connection with the Sirens: the absolute resignation to the\nsenses is license, is destruction; we may say the same thing of the\nopposite, the absolute suppression of man's sensuous being is simply\nhis dissolution. Hence the extremes appear; the moral and the immoral\nextremes land us in the same place; they are the two mighty rocks which\nmay smite together and crush the poor mortal who happens to get in\nbetween the closing surfaces. If we understand the image, it holds true\nof excess on either side; excessive indulgence is overwhelmed by its\nopposite, so is excessive abstinence; they co-operate, like two valves,\nfor the destruction of the one-sided extremist. Truly Greek is the\nthought, for the Greek maxim above all others was moderation, no\nover-doing. Such then are the Plangctae, which Ulysses must avoid\nwholly, if he wishes to escape. Still, even the danger is by no means\nover.\n\nThere is the second way which introduces a new alternative; the path of\nmoderation has its difficulty, it too forks and produces perplexity and\nperil to the voyager. Here is the point where Scylla and Charybdis\nappear, a new set of extremes, between which the mean is to be sought,\nthen the passage can be made. Yet even thus it costs, Ulysses will lose\nsix of his companions; the penalty has to be paid, just the penalty of\nmoderation. _Es raecht sich alles auf Erden._ Two sets of extremes\nalways; if you shun one set and take the middle path, just this act of\nshunning produces a second set; cut the magnet in twain with its two\npoles, then each part will at once have two poles of its own. Such is\nindeed the very dialectic of life, the dualism of existence, which the\nheroic voyager is to overcome with suffering, with danger, with many\npenalties.\n\nFault has often been found with this duplication of the alternative,\nbut when rightly seen into, it will show itself as the central fact of\nthe entire description. It casts an image of the never-ceasing\ndifferentiation both in the mind and in the world; it hints the\nrecurring contradiction in all thought and in all conduct, always to be\nsolved, yet never quite solved. What else indeed has man to do? To\nmaster the contradiction gives him life, movement, energy, and it must\nbe mastered every day. The old poet is going to the bottom of the\nmatter. The above mentioned repetition of the alternative has its\ncorrespondence with the repetition which we have seen to be the\nfundamental form into which the whole Book is cast.\n\nPlainly the Double Alternative here mythically set forth, springs out\nof the conflict with the Sirens, and is a deepening of the same to the\nvery bottom. Indulgence kills, abstinence kills, in their excess; and\nthe middle path bifurcates into two new extremes with their problem.\nProphetic Circe can tell all this, for does it not lie just in the\ndomain of her experience, which has also been twofold? Pure forms of\nspirit, wholly non-natural, are these figures representing the Double\nAlternative, created by the Imagination to express Thought.\n\n3. The final warning of Circe is mainly a repetition of what Tiresias\nhad told Ulysses already in the Underworld; from the latter she heard\nit and puts it here into its place. Beware of slaying the cattle of the\nSun, oxen and sheep in two flocks, over which two bright nymphs keep\nguard. There can scarcely be a doubt concerning the physical basis of\nthis myth. The seven herds of oxen, fifty to the herd, suggest the\nnumber of days in the lunar year (really 354); the seven herds of sheep\nsuggest the corresponding nights. Lampelia (the Moon or Lamp of Night)\nis the keeper of the one; Phaethusa (the Radiant one) is the keeper of\nthe other--namely the Sun as the day-bringer. Seldom has the old Aryan\nform of the myth been so well preserved; the whole reads like a\ntranscript out of the Vedas.\n\nStill stronger than the physical side is the spiritual suggestion. The\nslaughter of these cattle of the Sun points to the supreme act of\nnegation in the intellectual man, to the sin against light. Ulysses and\nhis companions now know the way to reach home, having had the grand\nexperience with the Sirens and then with the Double Alternative;\nmoreover the leader has heard the warning twice. If they now do wrong,\nit will be a wrong against the Sun, against Intelligence itself.\n\nA certain critic finds fault with Circe because she repeats the warning\nof Tiresias, and he holds that some botcher or editor, not Homer,\ntransferred the passage from one place to the other. Yet this\nrepetition is not only an organic necessity of the poem, but gives an\ninsight into the character of Circe: she cannot foresee of herself the\ngreat intellectual transgression, but Tiresias can; the Sirens and the\nDouble Alternative, however, lie within her own experience. So she\ncopies where she cannot originate, and in this way she is decidedly\ndistinguished from Tiresias, though both are prophetic.\n\nSuch is the outlook upon the Future given by Circe, in the way of\nwarning, whereby the warned know what is coming. In the three\nadventures we feel a certain connection, in fact an unfolding of one\nout of the other, beginning with the primary conflict of the Senses,\nwhich soon rises into the Understanding, and finally ends in a revolt\nagainst Reason itself, the source of Light. They have the character of\ntypical forms, derived from the Past, yet they are certain to recur\nagain, and hence can be foretold.\n\n\nII.\n\nWe now have reached the second portion of the Book, which is the\nfulfillment of the prophecies of the first portion; moreover we see how\nthe forewarnings are heeded. Ulysses and his companions enter their\nvessel and start once more upon the sea, leaving the island of Circe,\nwho sends them a favorable wind. We note also that Ulysses always\nrepeats the warning to his companions, and tells to what they are\ncoming next; they are to share in his knowledge. Three times he does\nthis, just before each incident, and thus prepares them, though he does\nnot tell everything. The experience with the Bag of Winds has taught\nhim much; his companions through ignorance of its nature opened it and\nthe fatality followed. So he received the penalty of not sharing his\nknowledge with his fellows; now he avoids that mistake, for his conduct\nat present shows that he regards his failure to impart his information\nas a mistake. He was the cause of the ignorance of his companions,\nwhich was brought home to him by their deed. Now he tells them, still\nhe will not be able to save them; the fault is theirs when they\ntransgress, and they will receive the penalty.\n\n1. In accord with the plan already foretold, the ship approaches the\nisland of the Sirens, Ulysses fills the ears of his men with wax and\nenjoys the song, being tied firmly to the mast. It is evident that he\ncannot control himself from within, he wishes to be loosed, but is only\nfastened the more tightly by his deafened associates. Foreseeing his\nown weakness he guards against it, yet brings out the more strongly his\nlack of self-mastery. He gives up his freedom in order not to perish\nthrough enjoyment. Herein we find suggestive hints concerning the\nnatural man; he must be governed from without, till he become\nself-governable. Truly this is the first stage both in the individual\nand in history, and Ulysses is the typical personality representing\nboth.\n\nThe song of the Sirens is given, which we did not hear in the previous\nprophetic portion. We may note in it touches of flattery, of\nenticement, of boundless promises, even of wisdom for the wise man.\nThen that favorite theme, the Trojan War, they claim to know, \"and all\nthat has ever happened upon the foodful earth.\" Such are the gorgeous\npromises to the man thirsty for knowledge; but mark in their meadow the\nbones and decaying bodies of dead men. Evidently their sweet song,\npromising all, lures only to destroy. Their power, however, lasts but\nfor the moment, while the senses are tingled; when the fit is over,\nUlysses is set free and he makes no attempt to return to them. Indeed\nanother problem is upon him; he sees \"a great wave and mist,\" to which\nis added a loud sound of rushing waters. Again he exhorts his\ncompanions and tells them all that he dares about the approaching\ndangers.\n\n2. Now we are to witness a practical dealing with the Double\nAlternative, which was theoretically set forth in the previous portion.\nBut the first Alternative, those bi-valvular rocks called Plangctae,\nwhich clasped the sea-faring man between their valves and crushed him\nto death, is wholly avoided, is not even mentioned in the present\npassage, though it is possibly implied in one place. At any rate the\ngrand stress is laid upon the second Alternative, Scylla and Charybdis,\nbetween which the ship is to pass.\n\nHere again Ulysses shows his limitation. In spite of Circe's warning,\nhe puts on armor, takes two spears, and goes on deck, like a Homeric\nhero, to fight Scylla. He tries to solve his problem externally, as he\ndid in the case of the Sirens. In vain; he could not see his foe\nanywhere, and his eyes grew weary, peering about at the mist-like\nrocks.\n\nNot thus was Scylla to be met, a monster not of mortal mould, hardly\nattainable by the senses. Still she was present somehow, and made\nherself valid. The whirling waters roared and seethed, all were intent\nupon the maelstrom, Charybdis, the other side; \"we looked at her,\nfearing destruction,\" and destruction came just from the direction in\nwhich they were not looking. Scylla, watched, remains invisible;\nunwatched, she appears and snaps up six companions; external weapons\ncan effect nothing against her. Still Ulysses gets through, scotched\nsomewhat; he has failed to see both sides at one and the same time;\nmind, intelligence alone can rise out of the particular thing of the\nsenses, and grasp the two things in opposition. As we read the story\nhere, it suggests the man, the life-faring man, who is so drawn to one\npart that he neglects the counterpart, which has equal validity and\nsoon makes itself felt by the penalty. Not the Alternative, then,\nScylla _or_ Charybdis, but the combined Scylla _and_ Charybdis is the\nword of mastery. The two kept in separation destroy, the two held in\nunity are conquerable. Under all difference of Nature lies the\nThought's oneness, which is the true synthesis of every Scylla and\nCharybdis. Such is the experience of Ulysses now; the Sirens, the\ncreatures of the senses, may be thwarted by a species of external\nforce; but not the present monsters can be so treated. The dualism\nexists doubtless, and we can be caught in it, but the function of mind\nis to overspan it, and so transform all difference, discord, diabolism\ninto unity, harmony, deity.\n\nThus Ulysses disobeys Circe's command not to attempt to fight Scylla\nwith weapons; the reason of her injunction becomes plain. Not a\nsensuous thing to be slain is Scylla, in spite of her animal figure;\nthe poet hints that she is to be encountered by mind, which must here\nsee both sides at once and so assert its supremacy over both. To be\nintent upon the one and disregard the other--that is the grand human\ndanger. Hence the thought of Scylla and Charybdis has passed into the\nliterature of the world, nay into the proverbs of the people, to\nexpress the peril of one-sidedness, as well as the inherent dualism in\nall conduct. Moreover the golden mean is suggested, that principle of\naction so familiar in later Greek philosophy. Deeper than this golden\nmean, however, runs the idea here; the dialectic of existence, the\ntwofoldness which must be made one, the higher synthesis over all\nanalysis are dimly intimated in the marvelous tale.\n\n3. Having escaped through the two rocks, Ulysses and his companions\ncome to \"the flawless island of the Sun,\" the all-seeing luminary of\nHeaven. It is the total light beholding the totality. Is it not\nmanifest that we have passed out of dualism into unity, out of strife\ninto harmony? The island is represented as pastoral, peaceful, idyllic,\nwith its herds reposing in sunlight; certainly a decided contrast to\nthe noise and struggle in the region of Scylla and Charybdis. Or we may\ngive the matter a psychological turn and say: Such is the transition\nfrom the Understanding with its finitude to Reason with its\nuniversality, to the all-seeing light within. Ulysses, having\ntranscended the limit he showed in his last experience, has gone\nforward to the clear sunlit realm which illumines all limitations.\n\nBut just at this point danger arises. On the island are pasturing herds\nof oxen and sheep sacred to the Sun, things of light consecrated to\nlight. The temptation will be to use them for the gratification of\nappetite, perhaps under some strong stress. Already both Tiresias and\nCirce have given the warning, which Ulysses now repeats to his\ncompanions and even exacts an oath from them not to harm the holy\nflocks. But hunger pinches, Ulysses again goes to sleep at the wrong\nmoment, and the oxen of the Sun are slain by his men. It is true that\nthe test is a hard one, death by starvation is impending, and they\nyield, not only violating their oaths but their light. Then they\ndefiantly repeated their deed, \"for six whole days they feasted,\nselecting the best of the Sun's oxen.\" When Ulysses awoke, he chid them\nsternly, but did not, or could not, stop them. The result was, they\nperished.\n\nAlready we have touched upon the physical basis which underlies this\ntale. The symbolism we may consider somewhat more closely. The sin\nagainst light on the part of the companions is double: they knew better\nbecause they had been forewarned, they were not ignorant as when they\nopened the Bag of Winds. Secondly, they destroyed objects sacred to the\ngrand luminary, they assailed the very source of light. Ulysses has\nshared in the act also, he too must take his part of the penalty. He is\nsaved, for he forbade the wrong, yet he went to sleep at the critical\nmoment. To be sure the companions were hungry; but that is just the\ntest; if they had had plenty to eat, there would have been no real\ntrial of their fidelity to principle.\n\nThe ancient poet, throwing deepest glances into the soul and into the\nworld, beholds the supreme negative act of man, and seeks to clothe it\nin a symbol. Mind turns against mind, when the man does what he knows\nis wrong, and the destructive side is doubly re-inforced when he\nassails light itself, and knowledge slays knowledge. When a person who\nknows affirms in word and deed that his knowing is a lie, his light\nputs out a light, he destroys the Oxen of the Sun. What then? It is no\nwonder that the great luminary threatens \"to go down to Hades and there\nshine among the dead,\" unless the full penalty is exacted for such a\ndeed. In fact, he is already extinguished mentally for these men, and\nZeus, voicing the world-order, can only hurry them off into darkness.\nVery wonderful is the thought lurking in the symbolism of the old seer:\nintellectual negation, skepticism, denial, culminating in the negative\ndeed, will at last drive the Sun himself out of Heaven and send him\nbelow into the Underworld. It is highly probable, however, that the\nnegative man will be sent down there first, as is done in the present\ncase.\n\nAfter slaying the Oxen of the Sun and repeating the offense many times,\nUlysses and his companions must again meet life, and accordingly they\nset sail upon the sea, bound for home and country. But such men have\nnot in them the elements of the Return. Storms arise, winds blow, the\nhelmsman is killed by the falling mast, and the ship is struck by\nlightning. The destructive powers of nature seem to concentrate upon\nthese destroyers; such is the decree of Zeus, carrying out his promise\nto the Sun; verily the Supreme God could not well do otherwise. Ulysses\nalone barely saves himself upon a fragment of the mast and keel;\nmanifestly there is a difference between him and his companions, who\ndisobeyed his order. The text says that \"the companions feasted for six\ndays,\" it would seem that he did not; still he is involved in their\ncalamity, though not fully in their guilt. Here is, then, a distinction\nof importance, since upon it is based the saving of Ulysses, who is yet\nto have a career.\n\nWhile Ulysses may not have personally participated in the guilty deed,\nhe was not active against it, he did not apparently seem to restrain\nthe repetitions of it, he was paralyzed in energy. It was his will\nwhich was defective, not his intellect; he did not commit the offense,\nbut he did not stop it, and try to conciliate the wrath of the Gods by\nsacrifices, by what we now call repentance. Hence, while he does not\nperish, he is still unfinished, incomplete, with a limit to be removed.\nA training of the Will is to be gone through next, till it be able to\ndo what Reason commands. A new discipline therefore is in store for the\nHero after the loss of his ship and his companions.\n\nWhat will this discipline be? To a degree his entire career must be\nworked over again from the beginning. Upon his fragment of wood he\nfloats back to Scylla and Charybdis; he falls into the old dualism in\none of its phases, for he cannot stay upon the Island of the Sun, the\nplace of unity and rest and light. Indeed have we not just seen him in\nthe fierce conflict between knowing and doing, which he has not been\nable to unify in the last adventure? So he drops back between the\ngrinding mill-stones of two opposites; one of these opposites, the\nmaelstrom Charybdis, is sucking him in, but he clutches the branches of\na large fig-tree overhanging the whirlpool, and holds fast till his\nmast and keel return to the surface of the water, upon which he\nescapes.\n\nOne cannot help feeling that the poet in this description has a\nconscious meaning underneath, it is more or less allegorical. The will\nof Ulysses was paralyzed in the Island of the Sun, he is helplessly\ncarried forward on the sea, till the yawning gulf of Charybdis\n(Despair) threatens to swallow him, when he puts forth a mighty effort\nof will, represented in his clinging to the branches of the fig tree,\nwhich extends Hope to him, and thus he rescues himself. Now he rows his\nraft \"with both his hands,\" it is indeed time to exert anew his\nvolition. Charybdis could not take him, on account of a saving germ in\nhim still; she has to let him pass. Whither?\n\nNaturally the next station rearward is that of the Sirens, and this in\na general way is what Ulysses reaches in his relapse. He comes to the\nrealm of the senses, for the fact is that this was the source of the\ngreat trouble in the Island of the Sun. The companions, pressed by\nappetite and the needs of the body, yielded up their conviction, their\nintelligence; they had not reached that strength of the spirit which\nprefers the death of the body to a surrender of the soul. Ulysses at\nlast acquiesced, the problem was too great for him and so he also is\ncast out of the Island of the Sun back into the region of the senses.\nBut it is a new region of the senses, not that of the Sirens, not that\nof Circe, both of which he has transcended by an effort of will-power;\nit is the realm of Calypso, the Concealer, which has been reached\nthrough the collapse of the will after the sin against light. There is\nunquestionably an affinity between Circe, the Sirens, and Calypso, yet\nthere is also such a difference between them that the poet has assigned\nto them distinct domains, It is plain, too, that Ulysses in his present\nparalysis will remain long with Calypso, not at once will he recover\nhis power after such a negation. He is hidden, as it were, in her Dark\nIsland Ogygia after that undoing of light; he passes from the sun-world\nof Reason to its opposite. Calypso, therefore, is reached through the\ngrand Relapse, not through the progressive movement, which we have seen\nhim going through hitherto.\n\nStill Ulysses has in him the germ of betterment, of salvation. He longs\nto reach home and country, to return to his institutional world; that\nspark of aspiration has a saving power; it will not be extinguished\neven in the sensuous delights of Calypso's bower.\n\n_Observations._ In looking back at the Twelfth Book and thinking it\nover as a Whole, the reader will always feel that he has not fully\nsounded its depths. It has not exercised so great an influence upon\nmankind as the Eleventh Book, but it is probably profounder. It lures\nspecially the thinker and the psychologist, it seems not only to set\nforth thought but the thought of thought. Very difficult is the poetic\nproblem in such a case, the imaginative form really is driven to its\nutmost limit in order to express the content.\n\nI. The first thing to be fully grasped and thoroughly studied is the\nstructure of the Book. For structure is the primordial fact of any\nwork, and especially of any great work, structure has always its own\nmeaning and far-reaching suggestiveness, and it points directly to what\nthe Book signifies, being its inner vital organism. In the Twelfth Book\nwe shall ponder a little the three essential facts of its structure.\n\n(1) There is the twofold division of the Book, while the other Books of\nFableland have distinctly a threefold division. Herewith is coupled the\nduplication of its content; the second part repeats what is contained\nin the first part; or the first part tells in advance what is to be\ndone in the second part. Thus the structure images dualism: Thought and\nAction, Word and Deed, Idea and Reality, Prophecy and Fulfillment. Yet\nit also hints the oneness in the dualism.\n\n(2) The next point in structure is the threefold subdivision of each of\nthe two parts. That is, now the structural principle falls back into\nthat of the preceding Books of Fableland. Each part has its three main\nadventures with their respective environments and shapes, quite as each\nBook hitherto has had. What does this suggest to the reader--this\nduplication of the threefold form of the Book?\n\n(3) Finally comes the very peculiar structure of the second adventure,\nwhich we have above called the Double Alternative. The dualism of the\nBook we may say, is now doubled, and transformed into the middle one of\nthe three grand trials or exploits which the Hero has to pass through.\nThe monster Scylla is here to be noted, with its six necks and heads,\nthree on each side of the body, wherein again the triple is duplicated,\nthough the body is certainly one. It was this monster which did most\nharm to Ulysses, snapping up six of his companions in the passage.\n\nSuch are the main points in the structure of the present Book,\nassuredly as great a marvel as anything recorded in the same, when it\nis once fully beheld. That it is intimately connected with the thought\nof the Book, is indeed the very form and mould thereof, is felt by\nevery careful reader. But what is this thought? Here the difference\nbegins, and the conflict of opinion ranges over and into fields diverse\nand far apart.\n\nII. It may be said that the interpretations suggested by these three\nadventures--with the Sirens, with Scylla and Charybdis, and with the\nOxen of the Sun--belong to two extremes; those of Nature and of Mind.\nReaders and commentators of different character and training will\ndiffer; one set will lean to the physical view, the other to the\nspiritual. It is our opinion that both views can find justification in\nthe poem. We may first look at the physical interpretation.\n\nAll these monsters have been supposed to represent perils of\nnavigation, especially in the Italian seas, which were frequented by\nthe early Greek navigator. They have also been located geographically,\nto be sure in a variety of places. The Sirens dwelt on three dangerous\nrocks near the island of Capraea, according to ancient authorities; or\nthey were found on the promontory between Paestum and Elea, or even down\nat Cape Pelorum in Sicily. Why should they not be indeed everywhere!\nThen they have been supposed to personify the secret dangers of a calm\nsea, and their song is the music of splashing waters. Undoubtedly a\nphysical substrate must be granted in the case of the Sirens, and in\nthe Mythus generally; still they are truly everywhere, not only in the\nItalian Sea, but also in the sea of life, and they appear not only to\nthe professional sailor but to every human navigator. Are literal rocks\npassed by putting wax into the ears of the crew and by tying the\ncaptain to the mast? Surely some other peril is suggested.\n\nIn the second adventure, the Plangctae (the Claspers, not the Wanderers,\nas some translations give it), have been located at the Lipari Islands\nin the Sicilian Sea, where there is strong volcanic action. The\nwell-known Symplegades of the Argonautic expedition which were placed\nat the entrance of the Euxine, were probably patterned after this\nHomeric conception, and transferred to the North-east. The two terrors,\nScylla and Charybdis, lie in the straits of Messina, according to the\naccepted view, the former on the Italian side, the latter on the\nSicilian. A town named Scilla still exists in those regions, and an\neddy in the straits of Messina is still called Charilla (from Charybdis\ndoubtless.) Etymologically Scylla means a bitch, Charybdis is allied\nwith Chaos (from a Greek word meaning to yawn). Later legend gave to\nScylla a great variety of forms, which were reproduced in art and\npoetry. One story represents her as having been a beautiful maiden who\nwas loved by Glaucus, and who was turned into her present monstrous\nshape by Circe through jealousy, for the enchantress loved Glaucus too.\nThe sucking-in of the waters by Charybdis, and her disgorging of them\nhas been connected with the ebb and flow of the tides. It may also be\nadded that the Plangctae (in the sense of wandering or floating islands)\nhave been supposed to refer to icebergs, some report of which may have\nreached the Homeric world through the Phoenician sailor, who must\nhave passed outside of the straits of Gibraltar, into the Atlantic.\n\nIII. Such are some of the physical explanations which this Book has\nsuggested; we may now consider it in relation to certain mental\nphenomena. Already we have unfolded the ethical meaning which\nespecially lies in these shapes, and the Hero's struggle with them. But\nthey have another and deeper suggestion; they adumbrate the nature of\nmind itself and the process of thinking; both in form and content the\nwhole Book strangely points to psychology, as if the poet, having\ncreated these wonders of Fableland, were going to create his own\ncreative act and present it in an image.\n\n(1) The division of the Book into the two parts already alluded to in\nwhich each is what the other is, in which there are both separation and\nidentity, calls up the fundamental fact of self-consciousness, which is\noften expressed in the formula Ego=Ego. Mind, Ego, separates itself\ninto two sides, yet each side is the whole and recognizes the other\nside as itself. This act is the condition of knowing of every kind,\nwhich always differentiates then identifies. One step more: Circe in\nher prophecy gave the pure form of the idea, then came its realization,\nso that there is suggested the primordial distinction of the mind into\nIntellect and Will, or the Thought and the Deed. Thus we see in this\ndivision of the Twelfth Book the exact characteristic of\nsubject-object, and there is still further suggested the distinction\nbetween Thinking and Willing.\n\n(2) Passing to the threefold subdivision of each of the two parts, we\nobserve that it also calls up psychological distinctions. Three stages\nof the knowing mind, Senses, Understanding, Reason, may be found here,\nnot very definitely given, still distinctly implied. The Sirens\nrepresent the Sensuous, especially in its moral aspect; the Plangctae\nwith Scylla and Charybdis set forth a vivid image of the divisions and\nconflicts of the finite Understanding; the Oxen of the Sun point to the\ncentral light, that of Reason, which, when destroyed in any way,\nconstitutes the chief human calamity.\n\nAnother curious psychological hint may be noted in the text of Homer.\nThe Sirens, the first or implicit stage, are sometimes spoken of in the\ndual and sometimes in the plural; Homer would seem to imply that they\nare two in number, yet they always act and sing as one. That is, the\ndualism or separation is as yet implicit; but in the second stage (that\nof Scylla and Charybdis) it will become explicit with decided emphasis.\nLater legend made the Sirens three in number, and gave them names, and\notherwise distinguished them; but this is not Homeric and indeed has\nlost the Homeric consciousness.\n\n(3) The fact that the previous Books of Fableland have a threefold\ndivision only, while this threefold division is duplicated in the\nTwelfth Book, has also its psychological bearing in connection with the\nforegoing views. In the first case, the poet was not aware of his\nprocess, he yielded to the poetic act immediately; but in the second\ncase, he is conscious, he knows his own process and prefigures it; he\nholds it up before himself in advance, just as Circe holds up before\nUlysses his future career. Ulysses also must know in advance, hitherto\nhe has simply followed instinct and chance, whithersoever they led. In\nlike manner, the poet now shows himself knowing what he will do; his\nthreefold organic movement, hitherto more or less implicit and\nunconscious, has become explicit and conscious, and can be prophesied.\nHe himself thus is an example of the Ego which both casts before and\nforecasts itself, in other words is self-duplicated.\n\n(4) Here, however, we must note a distinction. In all four Books of\nFableland, Ulysses is the poet himself in a sense, he is singing his\nown adventures to the Court of Phaeacia, he is well aware of what he has\npassed through and to what he has come.\n\nHe is not a Demodocus chanting heroic strains of the Trojan Past; he is\nUlysses telling his own spiritual experiences after the taking of Troy.\nIt has been already unfolded (p. 246-7) that he was in a negative,\nalienated condition; he had fallen out with and was separated from his\nHellenic world, whereof this Fableland is the record. But he arrives at\nPhaeacia, an harmonious institutional realm, then he becomes fully\nconscious of his negative condition and projects it out of himself in\nthese Tales or Songs. So all Fableland shows this consciousness in the\nman; but the Twelfth Book shows him conscious not only of his negative\nstate, but of his mental process, conscious of his consciousness, we\nmay say; he is not only Thought, but is Thought thinking Thought, or at\nleast imaging the same; that is, Thought has itself as its own object\nor content. So much we are inclined to find hinted in this duplication\nof the movement in the Twelfth Book.\n\nAt this point we hear the cry of dissent: You make Homer too\nintrospective, you make him a self-introverted, self-torturing\nnineteenth century man, whereas he is the most unreflective,\nunconscious of poets. Very natural is such a protest, my good reader;\nthis sort of thing may be carried too far, and become fantastic. Still\nit is a great mistake to think that Homer never takes a glance at his\nown mind and its workings. He must have looked within in order to see\nhis world; where else was it to be found in any such completeness? He\nhas built it, and he must have taken some interest in the architect and\nin his processes. Homer himself is a greater wonder than any wonder he\nhas created, and he probably knew it.\n\nIt is by no means the purpose to affirm in the preceding remarks that\nHomer intended to make an allegorical psychology. He simply had a mind,\nand the essence of mind is to be able to look at mind. So Homer saw\nhimself and his own process, and set it forth in an imaginative form.\nVery similar is the plan of Shakespeare in the _Tempest_. Prospero is\nthe poet, not only as poet, but the poet making his drama in the drama.\nThere is also a significant duplication both of structure and\ncharacter: Prospero is at one time magician, that is, poet, and\ncommands the elements and the spirits, especially Ariel; at another\ntime he assumes his ordinary relations as parent and as king, and is as\nlimited as other mortals. Shakespeare made many dramas, then he saw\nhimself making dramas, then he put into a drama himself making dramas.\nThat is, he in the end (Tempest is usually held to be the last of\nShakespeare's plays) took up his own poetic process into a poem, and\nthus completed the arch of his great career.\n\nSo much for the psychological aspect of these Books of Fableland. It\nmust be stated again that abstract terms, so necessary for an exact\nscience of mind, had not been elaborated to any extent in Homer's day.\nReflective language is a later product of Greek spirit. Still the\nphilosopher is anticipated and prophesied in the poet, and it certainly\ncannot be amiss to trace vague premonitions and promises of the coming\nPlato and Aristotle in the old poet. Homer has in him the germ of the\nwhole Greek world, and for that matter, much of the modern world also;\nthe best commentary upon him is the 2500 years since his time.\n\nIV. The slaying of the Oxen of the Sun has also its searching\nsuggestiveness, and is found in one form or other in the World's\ngreatest Books. Mind destroying mind may be shown as light\nextinguishing its own luminary; some such hint lies in the symbolism\nboth of the act and its punishment. It is indeed the culminating point\nof negation--spirit denying spirit. This is the real sin against the\nHoly Spirit, unpardonable because repentance, all possibility of pardon\nis denied by the doer of the deed. As I understand him, this is the\nessence of the sin of Dante against Beatrice, with which she reproaches\nhim in the last part of the Purgatorio. Suggestions of the same kind of\nguilt may be found in the characters of Shakespeare's Hamlet and\nBanquo, in whose cases the violation brings on a tragic fate; indeed\nevery true tragedy has some touches of the light-denying or\nlight-defying deed and its penalty. Above all rises in this respect the\nFaust of Goethe, the theme of which is explicitly intelligence denying\nintelligence, whereby the human mind becomes utterly negative, begets\nthe Devil, and enters into compact with him for a life of indulgence.\nWhile such a state lasts, repentance is impossible.\n\nSome such intimation ancient Homer must have had, and shadowed it forth\nin this strange symbolic deed. Ulysses having disregarded all he had\nlearned by his long and bitter experience, leaving unheeded the\nwarnings and prophecies of the Supersensible and the Sensible World\n(Tiresias and Circe), drops back into the sphere of Calypso, and has to\nserve the senses seven years till will and aspiration lift him again.\nSuch a servitude was not uncommon in Greek legend, Hercules is the very\nembodiment thereof; even a God, Apollo, Light itself, has to serve\nAdmetus, a mortal, in expiation of undivine guilt.\n\nAn important element of structure is to be noted at this point: the\npoem bifurcates and the reader has to move in two directions. If he\nwishes to follow the development of Ulysses, (which is indispensable)\nhe must return with the latter to Calypso's Island and trace him\nthrough his three grand experiences--Oyggia, Phaeacia, and Fableland.\nBut if the reader wishes to continue in the action of the poem, he must\nnow pass out of Fableland to Ithaca in the company of the Hero. (For\nthis double movement of the Ulyssiad, see pp. 121-8.)\n\nBut before Fableland is left behind, its full sweep may be called up\nonce more: from the Upperworld of Earth (Ninth and Tenth Books, both\nbelong together in a general survey), which shows the negation of Greek\nethical life and its conflicts, we pass to the Underworld of Hades,\nwhich on the one hand is the negation of all Greek sensible existence,\nand on the other hand is the revelation of the supersensible (soul,\nidea, world-justice); thence we come back to the Upperworld in which\nthe idea, obtained beyond, is seen struggling with the reality in\nvarious negative phases--Ulysses, knowing in advance, is shown in his\nattempt to realize his knowledge in the deed. Such then, is this grand\nthreefold sweep of Fableland.\n\nOne more retrospect: let us glance back at the whole Twelve Books, this\nfirst half of the Odyssey, composed of the Telemachiad and the\nUlyssiad. Both are parts of one whole; father and son acquire each his\nspecial discipline for the coming deed. Both are brought to a\nrecognition of the Divine Order, the son mainly through tradition, the\nfather mainly through experience. Both reach beyond the sensible into\nthe supersensible or ideal realm; Telemachus hears the story of\nProteus, which teaches the essence in all appearance; Ulysses descends\nto Hades and there communes with pure mind without its terrestrial\nincumbrance, in the case of Tiresias and others. Such is the internal\npreparation; now they are to do the deed. The idea they possess, the\nnext is to make it real.\n\nAccordingly the action of the poem, with Ulysses as its center, moves\nnext to Ithaca, the realm in which the idea is to be realized:\nwherewith we enter upon a new grand division of the poem.\n\n(The reader who wishes to study the parallelism between this Twelfth\nBook and Prospero can consult the author's Commentary on Shakespeare,\nwhere it treats of the _Tempest_. In fact, the entire play, which is\nalso a kind of Fairy Tale, has many correspondences with Homer's\nFableland.)\n\n\n\n\n_ITHAKEIAD._\n\n\nSuch is the designation which we have concluded to give to the last\ntwelve Books of the Odyssey, inasmuch as a name is needed for this\nportion corresponding to the Telemachiad and the Ulyssiad. The scene is\nlaid wholly in Ithaca, the characters of the poem are all brought\ntogether, and the main conflict takes place. It is the country which is\nto be cleansed of violence and guilt; that Divine Order which father\nand son have learned about, each in his own way, they must now make\nreal in the world, especially in their own land. Manifestly Ithaca\nrepresents the realm of wrong, of hostility to the social system of\nman; the Suitors defy Law, Family, State, Gods.\n\nBut Ulysses, before he can reform his country, has had to reform\nhimself. When he attacked the Ciconians, he was as negative to\ninstitutional order as the Suitors themselves; he was not the man to\ndestroy them at that time, he was too like them to undo their work.\nHence the long discipline in Fableland, which has been fully explained\nin the preceding comments; hence too he had to see Phaeacia, the ideal\ninstitutional life realized in Family and State, as well as in Industry\nand the Fine Arts. Let the reader note that he passes, not from\nFableland, but from Phaeacia, to Ithaca; having that Phaeacian Idea in\nhis soul, he can transform his own country. Thus he will truly save his\ncompanions, namely, the people, whom before he lost in Fableland.\n\nTelemachus also in his training has seen much and brought back an ideal\nwith him. He has heard the wise man Nestor and witnessed the religious\nlife of Hellas in its highest manifestation. Pylos, Nestor's kingdom,\nis almost a Greek theocracy; the Gods appear visible at the feasts and\nhold communion with the people. Likewise at Sparta Telemachus saw a\nrealm of peace and concord, in striking contrast with his own Ithaca;\nbut chiefly he heard the Marvelous Tale of Proteus, after which he was\neager to return home at once. Thus he too has had his experience of a\nsocial order, as well as his ideal instruction. Previous to his journey\nhe had shown a tendency to despair, and to a denial of the Gods on\naccount of the disorders of the Suitors in his house. Unquestionably he\ncomes back to Ithaca with renewed courage and aspiration, and with an\nideal in his soul, which makes him a meet companion for his father.\n\nThe third character is the swineherd Eumaeus who is the great addition\nin this portion of the Odyssey. He too has had his discipline, which is\nto be recounted here; he has been stolen as a child and sold into\nslavery; still the most terrible calamities to himself and his master\nand to the House of Ulysses, have not shaken his fealty to the Gods.\nThus in common with Telemachus and Ulysses he has faith in the Divine\nOrder, and can cooperate with them in realizing the same in Ithaca.\nVery different has been his discipline from that of the other two, both\nof whom became negative and had to be sent away from home for training,\nbut Eumaeus has remained in his hut and never swerved in his fidelity to\nhis sovereigns above and below, though he does not understand the\nprovidential reason for so much wrong and suffering.\n\nTo these three men we are to add the woman, Penelope, who has her part,\nperhaps the most difficult in this difficult business. She cannot\nresort to violence, she must use her feminine weapon, tact, with a\ndegree of skill which makes her an example for all time. Indeed not a\nfew of her sex declare that she has overdone the matter, and that her\nacts are morally questionable. But there can be no doubt that it is the\npart of tact to find fault with tact, and that woman will always decry\nwoman's skill in artifice, without refraining from its employment\naltogether; indeed just that is a part of the artifice.\n\nFor this and similar reasons the moral bearings of this portion of the\nOdyssey have always aroused discussion. In general, the question comes\nup: What constitutes a lie? Is the disguise of Ulysses justifiable? Is\nthe subtlety of Penelope morally reprehensible? The old dispute as to\nconduct rises in full intensity: Does the end justify the means? Two\nparties are sure to appear with views just opposite; the one excuses,\nthe other condemns, often with no little asperity. The Odyssey has been\ndenounced even as an immoral Book and both its hero and heroine have\nbeen subjected to a burning ordeal of literary damnation.\n\nThe poet has, however, his wrongful set, the Suitors, about whose\ncharacter there is no disagreement. They are the negation of that\nDivine Order which is to be restored by those who believe in it--the\nthree men who come together at the hut of the swineherd, and who have\nbeen trained by the time and circumstances just to this end. Ulysses\nhas had to pass through his negative period and overcome the same\nwithin; now he is prepared to meet the Suitors and to destroy them\nwithout the negative recoil which came upon him after destroying the\ncity of Troy. He can do a necessary deed of violence without becoming\nviolent and destructive himself; he will not now re-enact the Ciconian\naffair.\n\nLet us look into the inner movement of the matter here indicated. The\nslaughter of the Suitors by Ulysses was undoubtedly a negative act, yet\nthe Suitors also were negative in conduct, wholly so; thus violence is\nmet and undone by violence, or negation negates negation. What is the\noutcome? Manifestly a double result is possible: if a negative cancels\na negative, there may remain still negation, or there may be a positive\nresult. Ulysses has passed through the first of these stages by his\ndiscipline already recorded, after which he is master of the negative;\nthe destruction of the Suitors will not now make him destructive, as\ndid the destruction of Troy. It will be seen, therefore, that the poem\nhas a positive outcome; after some trouble, Ulysses will renovate the\ncountry, will restore Family and State, in fine the whole Order which\nhad been upset by the Suitors.\n\nWith the transition from Fableland occurs a marked change in the style\nof the poem. In the previous portions we have already noted the\nMarvelous Tale of Fairyland, the Heroic Tale of Troy, the Idyllic\nEpopee of the Present, the latter especially in Phaeacia. But in these\nlast twelve Books we read a story of actual social life, a story which\nalmost strikes into the domain of the modern Novel. Still fabulous\nadventures will be interwoven--now more in the form of the\nnovelette--with Phoenician and Egyptian backgrounds. Also a tone of\nhumanity, even of sentiment, makes itself felt in various places. A new\nsituation brings with it a new style, yet Homeric still. Hereafter\nthese points will be more fully noticed.\n\nWe have already indicated the fact (p. 19) that Pallas starts to\norganize the Odyssey in Book First. Two portions she designates, the\nTelemachiad and the Ulyssiad, which really belong together, showing the\nspiritual palingenesis, or internal renovation of son and father ere\nthey proceed to the renovation of their country. Such in general are\nthe first twelve Books, showing the two masters of destiny, the two\npositive men with their idea; the second twelve Books show them\nrealizing their idea, and doing the great deed for which they have been\nprepared.\n\nThis second half of the Odyssey falls into two divisions. The first is\nlocated at the hut of the swineherd and brings the three men together,\nwhose general character has been already indicated; they have been\ntrained by life to a living realization of the Divine Order. This\ndivision consists of four Books (XIII-XVI). The second division\ntransfers the scene from country to town, from hut to palace. Ulysses\nin disguise will witness personally the full course of the wrong of the\nsuitors, against his property, his family, his state, and against the\nGods. Then he becomes the minister of the world-justice which he has\nalready seen in Hades. Finally he harmonizes the distracted\ninstitutional life of his country and the poem ends. This second\ndivision embraces the last eight Books, and has its own special stages\nin its movement.\n\n_Survey of Books Thirteenth to Sixteenth._ In this portion we are to\nwitness the leading transition of the poem, that of Ulysses and\nTelemachus to Ithaca, the transition from the long and elaborate\npreparation for the act to the act itself, which is the supreme one of\nman, that of asserting and realizing the Divine Order. In these four\nBooks is the gathering of the chosen forces into one spot and into one\npurpose--which forces have been hitherto separately developed; here it\nis that we behold the practical preliminary movement for destroying the\nSuitors. Hence arises the feeling which most readers express on a\nsympathetic perusal, that these four Books of the Ithakeiad, which is\nthe name already given to the present division of the Odyssey, have\nenough in common to cause them to be grouped together in an organic\nsurvey of the poem. They have, first of all, unity of locality--the hut\nof the swineherd--to which, round which, and from which their incidents\nmove. To be sure there is a glance at the enemy, the Suitors, who are\nat a different point; but even this glance serves to emphasize the\nsetting common to these four Books, which is the abode of Eumaeus. Very\nhumble it is, but it stands in every way as the contrast to the palace.\n\nThis unity of place naturally suggests unity of action as to what is\ngoing on in that place. All the forces in opposition to the Suitors are\nsecretly gathering there and organizing. It is the center of attraction\nwhich is drawing out of the universe every atom of congenial energy for\npunishing the transgressors. It has brought Ulysses from Phaeacia,\nTelemachus from Sparta, and possesses already the faithful Eumaeus in\nits own right. This is the fortress, and these are the three men who\nmake the attacking army. They are now getting themselves together. All\nthree have passed through a grand discipline just for the present end,\nwhich is to be the great deed of deliverance.\n\nMoreover the place has a character of its own, a peculiar atmosphere in\nsympathy with its purpose. Its strength we feel, its adamantine\nfidelity to the House of Ulysses. It is a secluded spot in contrast to\nthe palace; its occupant is a slave in contrast to the kings who are\nsuitors; his business is to be the companion of swine in contrast to\nthe regal entertainment at court. The highest and the humblest of the\nsocial order are here placed side by side; with what result? The\nunswerving rock of loyalty is the hut and the heart of the swineherd;\nupon it as the foundation the shattered institutional world of Ithaca\nis to be rebuilt. The lowest class of society is, after all, the basis\nof the edifice; if it remain sound, then the superstructure can be\nerected again after the fiery purification. But if it be utterly\nrotten, what then? Such, however, is not the case in Ithaca, as long as\nthere exists a man like the swineherd. From his rock, then, and, still\nmore, from his spirit, is to issue the energy which is to transform\nthat perverted land of Ithaca.\n\nStill, here too Ulysses is the pivot, the central character; the hero\nboth in thought and action, for whom Eumaeus furnishes a spatial and\nspiritual environment. The hut of the swineherd is but a phase, one\nlanding-place in the career of Ulysses. An idyllic spot and forever\nbeautiful; who but Homer has ever gotten so much poetry out of a\npig-sty? We witness the transfiguration of what is the very lowest of\nhuman existence into what is the very highest, veritably the Godlike on\nearth.\n\nUlysses, however, has to remain in disguise even to his most faithful\nservant; not out of distrust we must think, but out of prudence.\nKnowing his master, the swineherd would be a different person in the\npresence of the Suitors; he has an open, sincere, transparent heart,\nand he would probably let the secret be seen which lay therein. The\ngift of disguise he possesses not, as Ulysses has clearly observed in\nhis conversation; in this respect he is the contrast to the Hero\nhimself. But Telemachus will get the secret, for he has craft, is the\ntrue son of his father; has he not just shown the paternal trait in\ncunningly thwarting the Suitors who are lying in wait for him, by the\nhelp of Pallas, of course?\n\nIn these four Books, accordingly, we behold one stage of the great\npreparation for the deed which is the culmination of the poem. Not now\nthe disciplinary, but the practical preparation it is, when one is\nready and resolved internally, and is seeking the method and means.\nBoth Ulysses and Telemachus have had their training; now it must pass\ninto action.\n\nWe behold, first, Ulysses making the transition from Phaeacia to Ithaca,\nand thence to the fortress of loyalty, from which the movement is to be\nmade. Secondly we see all the instruments getting together, and being\nprepared for the work, particularly the three heroes of the attack.\nFinally we observe Ulysses inquiring and learning all about the\nsituation in Ithaca; he obtains everything that information at second\nhand can give. But hearsay is not enough; he must see at first hand.\nThus we pass to the palace, and out of the first series of four Books,\nwhich we are next to consider separately.\n\n\n\n\n_BOOK THIRTEENTH._\n\n\nIn general, we have in this Book the grand transition from Phaeacia to\nIthaca, in both of its phases, physical and spiritual. The sea is\ncrossed from land to land in a ship; the idyllic realm is left behind,\nand the real world with its terrible problem is encountered. Phaeacia\nwas quite without conflict. Ithaca is just in the condition of conflict\nand discord. Phaeacia, moreover, was a land of looking back at the past,\nof reminiscence and retrospection; Ithaca is the land of looking\ndirectly into the face of the future, with the deed to follow at once;\nit is the field for action and not contemplation. Not only spatially,\nbut also in thought we must regard this transition.\n\nUlysses has both these worlds in him; he is the man of thought and the\nman of action. Hitherto in his career the stress has been upon the\nformer; henceforth it is to be upon the latter. In this Book, which is\nthe overture marking the change in the key-note of the poem, we have\nthree distinct facts brought out prominently and through them we can\ngrasp the general structure. There is, first, the departure of Ulysses\nfrom Phaeacia and arrival at Ithaca; secondly, when this is finished,\nthere is the glance backward, on the part of the poet, to the\nmiraculous voyage and to Phaeacia itself, in which glance Neptune plays\nan important part; thirdly, there is the glance forward, which occupies\nmost of the Book, taking in Ithaca and the future, in which glance\nPallas, the Goddess of foresight, gives the chief direction, and\nUlysses is her mortal counterpart. This is, accordingly, to a large\nextent a Book of divine suggestion; two deities appear, the Upper World\nplays into the Lower World, yet in very different manners. The God of\nthe Sea seems to be an obstructionist, a reactionary, with look turned\nbehind, an old divinity of Nature; while Pallas always has her look\nturned forward, and is furthering the great deed of purification, is\nwholly a divinity of Spirit. These three phases of the Book we shall\nnote more fully.\n\nI. We have a glimpse of the court at Phaeacia; Ulysses has ended the\nlong account of his experience, the time of action has arrived. The\nformal yet hearty farewell is described; the gifts of the host are\ngiven, and the guest is sent on his way. Nor must we forget the bard\nDemodocus, still singing at the banquet, but the theme of his song is\nnot now mentioned; evidently it was some tale of Troy, as before, and\nthis stage of song has been far transcended by Ulysses. Very eager the\nHero was to start; \"often he turned his head toward the all-shining\nSun\" to see how far away the hour still remained. He wishes to listen\nto no more lays of the Past, sweet though they be, nor does he desire\nto tell any tales himself.\n\nMoreover we hear the great longing of his heart: \"May I, returning,\nfind at home my blameless wife!\" In like manner he wishes domestic joy\nto the king, as this whole Phaeacian world partakes more of the Family\nthan of the State. Of course, he cannot leave without going to the\nheart and center of the Family, namely, Arete, wife, mother, and even\njudge of the people. So we hear from the lips of Ulysses a final\nsalutation to her in her threefold character, \"Within thy household\nrejoice in thy children, thy people and thy husband the king.\" She\nlooks to the domestic part on the ship for Ulysses; she sends servants\nbearing bread, wine and garments for the passage. Nausicaa we feel to\nbe present in the last interview, but not a word from her or from the\ndeparting guest to her; self-suppression is indeed the law for both,\nfor is not Penelope the grand end of this voyage?\n\nThe ship of the Phaeacians in which the passage is made is a miraculous\none, and yet prophetic; it is gifted with thought and flies more fleet\nthan a falcon, swiftest of birds. Again the mythical account prefigures\nthe reality, and this little marvelous story of the sea hints, yes,\ncalls for the speed of modern navigation. It is not a matter to be\nunderstood; Ulysses, the wise man, knows nothing about it, he is sunk\nin sleep while making the passage. But the wise man is to come to\nknowledge hereafter.\n\nHe has arrived in Ithaca, and entered a safe port; he, still deep in\nslumber, is laid on the shore with all his goods and gifts, when the\nmariners turn back. At this point we have an interesting description of\nthe surroundings, wherein we may observe the poet's employment of\nnature as a setting for the returned Ulysses. There is the secure haven\nshutting off the winds and waves of the sea; at the end of the haven\nstands the olive tree, product of culture, and hinting the civilized\nworld, which Ulysses now enters; it was a tree sacred to Pallas in\nlater Greek legend, and, doubtless, in Homer's time also. Next came the\ncave of the Nymphs called Naiads, with its curious shapes of stone, the\nwork of the Nymphs to the old Greek eye, but named stalagmites and\nstalactites in modern speech. Two are the entrances, one for Gods and\none for men; both human and divine visitors come thither, it is indeed\na point of meeting for the two influences, which is its essential\nsuggestion. Ulysses, lying with his goods beneath the olive tree and\nnear the cave, is under divine protection, which here Nature herself is\nmade to declare. This scenery is not introduced for its own sake, but\nfor the divinity in it, whereof another example is to follow in the\ncase of Neptune.\n\nThere have been repeated attempts to identify the locality described by\nthe poet with the present geography of Ithaca. Travelers have imagined\nthat they have found the haven and cave, notably this was the case with\nSir William Gell; but the more common view now is that they were\nmistaken. Homer from his knowledge of Greece, which has everywhere\nharbors, caves and olive-trees, constructed an ideal landscape for his\nown purpose, quite as every poet does. He may or may not have seen\nIthaca; in either case, the poetic result is the same.\n\nII. The physical transition from Phaeacia to Ithaca is accomplished;\nwhile Ulysses is asleep, the poet casts a glance backward at the\nmarvelous ship and at the marvelous land which has just been left\nbehind. Both are henceforth to be forever closed to the real world and\nits intercourse; the realm of fable is shut off from Ithaca, and from\nthe rest of this poem.\n\nThe matter is presented in the form of a conflict between the Phaeacians\nand Neptune, between the sea-faring people and the sea; clearly it is\none of the many struggles between Man and Nature which the Greek Mythus\nis always portraying, because these struggles were the ever-present\nfact in Greek life. The God has been circumvented by the speed of the\nnavigators; Ulysses without suffering, without a storm, has reached\nIthaca. \"No more honor for me from mortals or Gods,\" cries Neptune, \"if\nI can be thus defied?\" He makes his appeal to the Highest God, and we\nhear the decision: \"Turn the ship to a stone and hide the city with a\nmountain.\" The first is accomplished in view of the Phaeacians; the\nsecond is possibly prevented by their speedy sacrifices to Neptune, and\nthe new decree of the ruler, which forbids their giving further escort\nover the sea to strangers. At any rate Phaeacia is shut off from the\nworld, and has not been heard of since; there have been no more\ntransitions thence since that of Ulysses. The marvelous ship and the\nmarvelous city vanish forever by a divine act, even by the will of\nZeus. Yet, on the other hand, they eternally remain, crystallized in\nthese verses of Homer, more lasting than the rock of Neptune.\n\nWhy this interference from above? Wherein is the escort by the\nPhaeacians a violation of the divine order as voiced by the Supreme God?\nNote that Ulysses has escaped, which is the will of Zeus; note, too,\nthat the Phaeacians are punished for helping him escape, which is also\nthe will of Zeus. The sailors bring the wanderer to his home without\ntrouble, but they are smitten by the God while returning.\n\nFor the primal suggestion of the legend, may we not say that the sea,\nthat enormous force of Nature with many reserved energies in its vast\nbosom, though bestrid and subdued by a ship, at times breaks loose and\ndestroys, in spite of skillful navigation and perfect machinery? Still\nto-day the sea has a residue of the uncontrollable, and probably will\nhave for some ages to come. Neptune has not ceased from his wrath\nagainst the man of thought, who tries to straddle and ride him, and\nZeus still supports at times the Sea-god's appeal for honor, when his\nprerogative is violated. Yet not always by any means, for Zeus belongs\nto the true Olympians, deities of intelligence, who once put down the\nold Gods of Nature.\n\nStill Nature has its right, nay, its law with the penalty. The poet\nlooks upon the sea as a great deity demanding sacrifice and honor.\nFurthermore, for every conquest made over it, there is the\ncounterstroke, the resistance, which is the vengeance of the God. Thus\nsays Zeus: \"If any man, trusting in his own strength, refuses to give\nunto thee honor, always vengeance is thine afterwards.\"\n\nWe have already noticed the creed of the poet to be that every action\nhas its penalty; the deed, even the good deed, is the fruit of a\nconflict and puts down something which has its might, aye its right,\nwhich is soon to make itself felt in counteraction. _Es raecht sich\nalles auf Erden_, sings our last world-poet in full harmony with his\neldest brother.\n\nIt is not surprising that Alcinous at this point remembers an \"ancient\nGod-spoken oracle,\" which had uttered in advance the wrath of Neptune\nand the present penalty. In like manner, Polyphemus, in his crisis,\nremembered a similar oracle. It is indeed the deep suggestion of Nature\nwhich the sages have heard in all times. The poet takes his thought and\nworks it into a mythical shape, in which, however, we are to see not\nmerely the story but the insight into the world order.\n\nUlysses now leaves the sea, after having been chiefly in a struggle\nwith it for years, ever since he sailed from Troy. It was the element\nin his way, the environment always hostile to him; Neptune was the\ndeity who was angry and made him suffer. Still the God of the sea could\nnot prevent his Return, such was the will of Zeus. Thus we cast a\nglance back at the Phaeacians who vanish, and at Neptune who also\nvanishes.\n\nThe poem henceforth quits the sea, after marking the fate of the\nsea-faring people of Phaeacia. That great mysterious body of water, with\nits uncertainties of wind and wave, with its hidden rocks and magic\nislands, is now to drop out of the horizen of the Odyssey. It is the\ngreat sea-poem of the Greeks, yes of the world; the sea is the setting\nof its adventurous, marvelous, illimitable portion. It comes out the\nsea, with its realm of wonders; henceforth it is a land poem in the\nclear finite world. Ulysses the Hero must turn his face away from the\nbriny element; not without significance is that command given him that\nhe must go till he find a people who take an oar for a winnowing-fan\nere he can reach peace. So the fairy-ship ceased to run, but the\nsteam-ship has taken its place in these Ithacan waters. Still the\npoetic atmosphere of the Odyssey, in spite of steam, hovers over the\nislands of western Greece to-day; the traveler in the harbor of Corfu,\nwill look up at the city from the deck of his vessel and call back the\nimage of Phaeacia, and if he listens to the speech of the Greek sailors,\nhe will find words still in use which were employed by old Homer,\npossibly were heard by the poet in this very harbor.\n\nIII. Next comes the most important and longest portion of the Book,\nturning the glance forward to Ithaca and the future, also to the great\ndeed of the poem. A new deity appears when Neptune vanishes, not a\nhostile power of Nature but a helpful spirit of Intelligence--it is the\nGoddess of Wisdom, Pallas. This divine transition from the one God to\nthe other is the real inner fact, while the physical transition is but\nthe outer setting and suggestion.\n\nAccordingly, the theme now is the man and the deity, Ulysses and Pallas\nin their interrelation. We are to have a complete account of the human\nunfolding into a vision of the divine. The movement is from a complete\nseparation of the twain, to mutual recognition, and then to\nco-operation. Pallas has had little to do with Ulysses during his great\nsea-journey, and since he left Troy. That long wandering on the water\nwas without her, lay not at all in her domain, which is that of clear\nself-conscious Intelligence. That misty Fableland is the realm of other\ndivinities, though she appeared in Phaeacia.\n\nThe question, therefore, is at present: How shall this man come into\nthe knowledge of the Goddess? How shall he know the truth of the\nreality about him in his new situation, how understand this world of\nwisdom? The sides are two: the man and the deity, and they must become\none in spirit. The supreme thing, therefore, is that Ulysses hear the\nvoice of Pallas, and develop into unity with her; indeed that may be\nheld to be the supreme thing in Religion and Philosophy: to hear the\nvoice of God. Even in the business of daily life the first object is to\nfind out the word of Pallas.\n\nSuch is the dualism in the world, which must be harmonized; but in the\nindividual also there is another dualism which has to be harmonized.\nUlysses is mortal, finite, given over to doubt, passion, caprice, is\nthe unwise man, subjective; but he is also the wise man, has an\ninfinite nature which is just the mastery of all his weakness; he has\nalways the possibility of wisdom, and will come to it by a little\ndiscipline. He will rise out of his subjective self into the objective\nGod. This is just the process which the poet is now going to portray;\nthe Hero overwhelmed in his new situation and with his new problem, is\nto ascend into communion with Pallas, is to behold wisdom in person and\nhear her voice, and then is to advance to the deed. This process we may\nlook at in four different stages, as they unfold on the lines laid down\nby the poet.\n\n1. First we have quite a full picture of Ulysses before he reaches the\nrecognition of the Divine, and of his gradual climbing-up to that\npoint. At the start he is asleep, is not even conscious of the external\nworld about him, he has indeed entered a new realm, yet old. As long as\nthe Phaeacian spell is upon him, he can do nought but slumber. Then he\nwakes, he sees but does not recognize his own country. He doubts, he\nblames the Phaeacians wrongfully, in his distrust of them he counts over\nhis treasures. He is now the unwise, capricious man; he has no\nperception of Pallas; not only the land is in disguise to him, he is in\ndisguise to himself, to his better self.\n\nYet the poet is careful to mark the providential purpose just in this\ndisguise. The Goddess threw a mist over things, that he might not know\nthem, or make himself known till all was in readiness for the\ndestruction of the Suitors, till she had told him what he had to do.\nStill it is his own act or state that he cannot at first hear the voice\nof the Goddess.\n\nThe next step is that he recognizes the country, it is described to him\nand named by Pallas. But she is in disguise now; she has appeared, but\nnot in her true form; she is not yet wisdom, but simply identifies the\nland, telling him: \"This is Ithaca.\" Thus he recognizes the external\nlandscape, but not the Goddess, who is as yet but a simple shepherd\ndescribing things.\n\nNow what will he do? He also will disguise himself to the shepherd,\nbecause he does not recognize who it is. He makes up a fable to account\nfor his presence and for his goods. Both are now in disguise, the man\nand deity, to each other. They are doing the same thing, they are one,\nwith that thin veil of concealment between them.\n\nThen comes the mutual recognition. She tears away the veil, laughs at\nhis artifice, and calls out her own designation: Pallas Athena. She had\npreviously named Ithaca, which brings the recognition of the outer\nworld; now she names herself, which brings the recognition of the\ndivine world. Thus Ulysses has rapidly passed from sleep through a\nseries of non-cognizant states, till he beholds the Goddess.\n\n2. Both the deity and mortal have now reached the stage of mutual\nrecognition, and thrown off their mutual disguise, which was a false\nrelation, though it often exists. Does not the man at times conceal\nhimself to the God, by self-deception, self-excuse, by lying to his\nhigher nature? In such case is not the God also hidden, in fact\ncompelled to assume a mask? Thus the poet brings before us the\nwonderful interplay between the human and divine, till they fully\nrecognize each other.\n\nAt once Pallas changes, she assumes a new form, the outward plastic\nshape corresponding to her Godhood in the Greek conception, that of \"a\nwoman beautiful and stately.\" Nor must we forget that Ulysses has also\nchanged, the two transformations run parallel, in the spirit of the man\nand in the form of the Goddess. This unity of character also is stated\nby Pallas; \"both of us are skilled in wiles; thou art the best of\nmortals in counsel and in words; I am famed among the Gods for wisdom\nand cunning.\" Hence her argument runs, let us throw off disguise to\neach other, for we have a great work before us.\n\nIt is also to be noted by the reader that each, the man and the\nGoddess, ascribes to the other the credit of skill and forethought,\nspecially the credit of coming to Ithaca in disguise to discover the\ntrue situation. Says Pallas: \"Another man would have rushed to see wife\nand children in his house, but thou wilt first test thy wife.\" Here the\nGoddess gives the thought to the man. Says Ulysses: \"Surely I would\nhave perished in my own palace, like Agamemnon, if thou, O Goddess,\nhadst not told me everything aright.\" Here the man gives the thought to\nthe Goddess. This is not a contradiction, both are correct, and the\ninsight is to see that both are one, and saying the same thing at\nbottom. The deity must be in the man, as well as in the world; and the\nman must hear the deity speaking the truth of the world ere he attain\nunto wisdom.\n\nEven the mist which hung over the landscape at first, has now\ncompletely vanished; Ulysses recognizes all the local details--the\nhaven, the olive-tree, the grot of the Nymphs, and the mountain; all\nthe Ithacan objects of Nature come back fully. But chiefly he\nrecognizes the Goddess, whereupon both can pass to the great matter in\nhand--the deed.\n\n3. This deed has been often mentioned before--the purification of\nIthaca, chiefly by the slaughter of the Suitors, \"the shameless set,\nwho usurp thy house and woo thy wife.\" Sitting on the roots of the\nsacred olive, the two, the man and the deity, plan destruction to the\nguilty. Verily those double elements, the human and the divine, must\nco-operate if the great action be performed. The eternal principle of\nright, the moral order of the world, must unite with the free agency of\nthe individual in bringing about the regeneration of the land. Thus\nafter their complete recognition and harmony, which takes place out of\nseparation, Ulysses and Pallas look forward to the impending deed,\nwhich is their unity realized and standing forth as a fact in the\nworld.\n\n4. Finally we have the manner of doing the deed, the plan is laid\nbefore us. Pallas tells Ulysses that he must again assume his disguise,\nboth in the hut of the swineherd and in the palace at Ithaca. She does\nnot propose to do his work for him; on the contrary it must be his own\nspontaneous energy. In fact, Pallas is in him making this suggestion,\nyet outside of him, too, speaking the voice of the situation.\n\nThe scheme shows the structure of these four Books (XIII-XVI),\norganized of course by Pallas. Ulysses is to go to the swineherd who is\nloyal, and will give shelter. Telemachus is to be brought to the same\nplace by Pallas, not externally, as we shall see, but through the free\nact of Telemachus himself. Thus the three chosen men are gathered\ntogether in their unsuspected fortress. Two things we must note in\nregard to these movements: they are wholly voluntary on part of the\npersons making them, yet they belong in the Divine Order, and thus are\nthe work of the deity. Free-Will and Providence do not trammel each\nother, but harmoniously co-operate to the same end. So carefully and\ncompletely is this thought elaborated that we may consider it\nfundamental in the creed of the poet.\n\nIn such manner the weak, finite Ulysses is brought into communion with\nthe immortal Goddess. Yet he, the poor frail mortal, drops for a moment\neven here. When Pallas speaks of Telemachus having gone to Sparta, to\nlearn about his father, Ulysses petulantly asks: \"Why did not you, who\nknow all things, tell that to him\" without the peril of such a journey?\nThe answer of Pallas is clear; I sent him in order that he might be a\nman among men, and have the good fame of his action. Telemachus, too,\nmust be a free man; that is the education of Pallas. The Goddess will\nhelp him only when he helps himself. Divinity is not to sap human\nvolition, but to enforce it; she would unmake Telemachus, if she\nallowed him to stay at home and do nothing, tied to his mother's apron\nstrings.\n\nAnd here we cannot help noting an observation on Homer's poetry. It\nmust be in the reader ere he can see it in the book. Unless he be ready\nfor its spirit, it will not appear, certainly it will not speak. There\nmust be a rise into the vision of Homeric poetry on the part of the\nreader, as there is a rise into the vision of the Goddess on the part\nof Ulysses. The two sides, the human and the divine, or the Terrestrial\nand the Olympian, must meet and commune; thus the reader, too, in\nperusing Homer, must become heroic and behold the Gods.\n\n\n\n\n_BOOK FOURTEENTH._\n\n\nThe Book begins with another transition in place; Ulysses passes from\nthe sea-shore, with its haven, grot, and olive-tree up into the\nmountain, to the hut of Eumaeus. We have quite a full description of the\nlatter's abode; there is a lodge surrounded by a court and a wall;\nwithin this inclosure are the sties, and the droves of swine over which\nhe is the keeper, with four assistants. Nor must we omit the fierce\ndogs, savage as wild beasts. Such is the new environment which Ulysses\nenters, and which has at its center a human being who gives character\nto this little world. Again we catch a clear quick glimpse of the Greek\nlandscape in one of its phases.\n\nThe spiritual transition is, however, the main thing. Ulysses passes\nfrom Pallas, the deity of pure wisdom, to Eumaeus, the humblest of\nmortals in his vocation. Yet this poor man too has the divine in him,\nand manifests it in a supreme degree, not, however, in the form of\nreflective wisdom, but in the form of piety, of an immediate faith in\nthe Gods. Still this faith has its sore trial. Such is the contrast\nbetween the two men. Ulysses has brought with him the Goddess of\nWisdom, whose words he has heard, and with whom he has held communion.\nHardly does Eumaeus know Pallas, he has not the internal gift of seeing\nher in her own shape. Thus both these men share in the divine, but in\nvery different ways.\n\nFrom this difference in the two men spring both the character and the\nmatter of the Book. It is a play, a disguise; a play between Wisdom and\nFaith, in which the former must be in disguise to the latter, yet both\nhave the same substance at bottom. For Faith is Faith because it cannot\ntake the form of Intelligence, yet may have in its simple immediate\nform all the content of Intelligence.\n\nEumaeus has an open single-hearted piety; he cannot play a disguise, he\nhates it for he has been deceived by it when assumed by lying fablers.\nFor this reason he is not intrusted with the secret of his master's\nreturn till the last moment, he would have to dissemble, to violate his\nown nature, and then perhaps he would not have succeeded in his\nattempt. So Ulysses with a true regard for his man withholds the great\nsecret, and has to play under cover in order to get the needful\ninformation.\n\nAccordingly the present Book has a decided tinge of comedy. There is,\non the one hand, the disguise, external and internal--in garments and\nin identity; on the other hand, there is the error which takes one\nperson for another, and produces the comic situation. Thus the Book is\nprophetic of a great branch of Literature, and may be considered as a\nstarting-point of Greek Comedy, yes, as one of the origins of\nShakespeare. To be sure, it is not mere fun or amusement; it is the\nComedy of Providence, who often is in disguise bringing his blessing.\nEumaeus in his piety has just that which he thinks he has not; his\nloyalty has brought to him just that which he most desired; his mistake\nis in reality no mistake, but a mere appearance which will vanish in\nthe end.\n\nIt is true that this sport of comic disguise began in the previous Book\nwith Pallas. But can the mortal hide himself from the deity, specially\nfrom the deity of wisdom? Hence the Goddess tears away the mask with a\nsmile, and there follows the recognition. But at present it is the\nmortal who is the victim of disguise, by virtue of his limitations.\nStill the mortal, when he cannot see, can believe, and so transcend\nthese same limitations. Thus it is with Eumaeus, his mistake is a comic\nnullity.\n\nIn the hut of the swineherd, there is no domestic life, the woman is\nabsent. This condition is specially ascribed to the present state of\nthings in Ithaca. Eumaeus, though he be a slave, could have a household,\n\"a dwelling and ground and wife,\" if his old master were at home. Even\nnow he has his own servant, bought with his own wealth. Slavery was not\na hard condition in the house of Ulysses; it was domestic in the best\nsense probably. Indeed the slaves were often of as high birth as their\nmasters, who in turn might be slaves in the next fluctuation of war.\nEumaeus himself was of kingly blood, and he retains his regal character\nin his servitude.\n\nUlysses has now reached the fortress which is to be the rallying-point\nof his army of three heroes, and from which he is to issue to the work\nof the time. But that is hereafter. In the present Book, we have his\nplay with Eumaeus, his disguise, which assumes three main attitudes.\nFirst, he is passive, chiefly asking and listening; thus he gets out of\nEumaeus what information he wishes; then he plays an active part in his\ndisguise, telling his own history under the mask of fiction; finally he\nassumes an open disguise, that is, he tells of one of his artifices at\nTroy, and then states his present object in telling it. The simple\nEumaeus, however, does not suspect him in all these transformations.\nStill we may notice in the swineherd a strong feeling of oneness with\nthe stranger, an unconscious presentiment of who he is.\n\nI. The approach of Ulysses to the lodge of Eumaeus is an experience\nwhich one may have in the mountains of Greece to-day. We can find the\nsame general outline of a hut with its surrounding fence and court, in\nwhich domestic animals are penned, particularly during the night. Then\nthere is that same welcome from the dogs, which issue forth in a pack\nwith an unearthly howling, growling and barking at the approaching\nstranger, till somebody appear and pelt them with stones. Often must\nthe wandering Homer have had such a greeting! The hospitable swineherd,\nEumaeus, the poet must have met with in his travels; the whole scene and\ncharacter are drawn directly from real life. A similar reception we\nhave had in a remote pastoral lodge, dogs included. But the modern\npedestrian will hardly employ the ruse of Ulysses, that of sitting down\non the ground and letting his staff drop out of his hand. He will use\nhis weapon and grasp for a stone everywhere present on the Greek soil,\nthough the fight be unequal. Still the sentence of Pliny (_Nat. Hist._\nVIII. 61) deserves always to be cited in this connection: _impetus\neorum (canum) et soevitia mitigatur ab homine considente humi_; as if\ndogs in the height of their rage might be touched with the plea of\npiety.\n\nThe character of the swineherd straightway shows itself by his conduct\ntoward this poor hungry stranger, a vagabond in appearance. To be sure,\nhospitality was and is a common virtue in Greece; but Eumaeus saw at\nonce in the wretched looking man his master \"wandering among people of\na strange tongue, needing food.\" Therefore come, old man, and satisfy\nyourself with bread and wine. Such is the strong fellow-feeling warming\nthe hearth of that humble lodge. Misfortune has not soured the\nswineherd, but he has extracted from it his greatest blessing--an\nuniversal charity. This is not a momentary emotion, but has risen to a\nreligious principle: \"All strangers and the poor are of Zeus;\" such is\nthe vital word of his creed. He is a slave and has not much to share;\n\"our giving is small but dear to us;\" very dear indeed, a mite only,\nbut it is as good as a world. Well may we call him, with the poet, in\nthe best sense of the title: \"the divine swineherd.\" We should note too\nthat the poet addresses Eumaeus in the second person singular, with a\ntone of loving familiarity very seldom employed elsewhere in his two\npoems. Was there some intimate personal relation figured in this\ncharacter which we still seem to feel afar off there in antiquity?\n\nAt any rate the picture of the swineherd has the most modern touch to\nbe found in Homer. It shows the feeling of humanity developed quite to\nits supreme fullness; it has modern sentiment, nay, it borders at times\nupon modern sentimentality. It recalls the recent novel, which takes\nits hero from the lowest class and garnishes him with regal virtues.\nStrange old Homer, prophetic again! He seems to have anticipated the\nart-forms of all the ages, and to have laid down the lines on which the\nliterary spirit must move forever. Otherwise, indeed, it could not be;\nhe has in him the germs of future development; the last novel is\ncontained in the first, which is the tale of Eumaeus.\n\nIn the character of the swineherd, the central point is his loyalty,\nadamantine as the rock of his humble home. It is loyalty in a double\nsense: to his divine and to his human master, to God and to man, Zeus\nand Ulysses. The same trait it is, in a terrestrial and a celestial\nmanifestation. Both sides of this loyalty are just now under the sorest\ntrial; there is every temptation to fall away from God and man and\nbecome wholly disloyal. Many have yielded but he will not; in his\nsolitary abode he keeps piety and patriotism aflame with the breath of\nhis spirit. Hence he furnishes the rock on which the new order can be\nbuilt; without this loyalty in the humble class, no restoration would\nbe possible, even with the presence of Ulysses.\n\nFirst we may notice that he is loyal to his human master though he\nbelieves that the latter is dead and cannot return. Still he does not\npass over to the side of the Suitors, who are doing that master and his\nhouse the great wrong. Secondly, the swineherd is loyal to Zeus and the\nDivine Order of the World. Hear him: \"The Gods love not deeds of\nviolence; they honor justice and the rightful works of men.\" Such is\nhis faith; still this faith is passing through the ordeal of fire: why\nshould the Gods, being good, keep the good Ulysses away from his\nReturn? The simple swineherd cannot fathom the ways of Providence,\nstill he believes in that Providence; he is divinely loyal. His\nallegiance does not depend upon prosperity, not even upon insight. Zeus\nmay rule the world as he pleases, I shall still have faith: \"Though he\nslay me, I shall believe in him.\"\n\nNow we may turn for a moment to Ulysses. He is a passive learner from\nthe swineherd, calling forth information by subtle inquiry; much,\nindeed, has he learned from the humble, pious man. First, he has seen a\nshadow of his own doubt, and how it may be dispelled. Then he has\ndiscovered loyalty in this representative of the people, who must still\npossess it in their hearts, though suppressed in the present, untoward\ntime. Also he hears again of the Suitors and their guilty deeds, viewed\nwith a loyal eye. Finally he plays the prophet to Eumaeus and foretells\nthe return of Ulysses. This is the height of his disguise, wherein he\nrises to the humor of Providence, who has brought to the swineherd the\nrealization of his strongest wish without his knowing it. His prayers\nhave come to pass, could he but see. Herein Ulysses suggests the part\nof Providence in disguise, bringing the fulfillment of his own\nprophecy.\n\nII. It is now the turn of Ulysses to give some account of himself in\nanswer to the swineherd's pressing questions. He tells a famous story,\na fiction of his own life, yet it has in its disguise the truth of his\ncareer. The outer setting is changed, but the main facts are the same.\nStill there is enough difference to prevent it from being a repetition.\nIt is the Odyssey told over again with new incidents, and variations\nupon an old theme. We behold here the conscious storyteller, clothing\nthe events of life in the garb of a marvelous adventure. Ulysses had in\nmind his own experience in this account, and he adapts it to the time\nand place.\n\nThe main points of its contact with himself we may note. First, there\nis the pre-Trojan period, a time of roving and marauding, which is true\nof that age in general, and may have some touch of Ulysses in\nparticular. Second is the Trojan war, the epoch of heroic conflict to\nwhich all had to go, so strong was the public sentiment. Third comes\nthe post-Trojan epoch, with the wanton attack on the AEgyptians, very\nmuch like the attack upon the Ciconians in the Ninth Book. From these\nattacks in both cases the grand calamity results, which causes the long\nwandering. The Phoenician episode, however, has no counterpart in the\ncareer of Ulysses. Fourth is the storm at sea, with the clinging to the\nmast, and the landing upon the coast of the Thesprotians, all of which\nis a transcript of the experience of Ulysses in getting to Phaeacia from\nCalypso's isle. Fifth is the arrival at Ithaca, which shows the actual\nfact, with changed circumstances. Thus we may say that the true Ulysses\nin disguise tells the true story of his life in disguise. This gift is\nwhat makes him the poet.\n\nIndeed we are compelled to think that Homer here suggests his own\npoetic procedure. What he narrates is his own experience, in the form\nof art. His poetry is and must be his own life, though in disguise.\nGoethe has said something similar: All that I have written is what I\nhave experienced, but not quite as I experienced it. In this story we\nmay hear in an undertone the old Greek poet telling one of his secrets\nof composition.\n\nMoreover, it is a tale of providential escapes; thrice has the\nso-called Cretan been saved specially, in AEgypt, from the\nPhoenicians, from the Thesprotians. Thus the story aims to encourage\nEumaeus, and to answer his doubt; it affirms the return of Ulysses, and\ntells even the manner thereof; it is a story of Providence appealing to\nthe swineherd's faith. On this line, too, it touches the ethical\ncontent of the Odyssey, as the latter was sung to the whole Greek\nworld.\n\nLooking at the external circumstances of the story we note that it\ntakes them from the social life of the time. There is universal\nslavery, with its accompaniment, man-stealing; the pirate and the\nfree-booter are still on the seas and furnish incidents of adventure,\nyet commerce has also begun; the perils of navigation turn the voyage\ninto a series of miraculous escapes. It is a time of dawn in which many\ndistinctions, now clear, have not yet been made.\n\nWe may also see the lines, though they be faint, of the movement of the\nworld's culture in this story. Crete, on the borderland between East\nand West, is the home of the daring Greek adventurer who attacks Troy\non the one hand and AEgypt on the other. From Crete we pass backwards to\nPhoenicia, as well as to the land of the Nile, and we catch a glimpse\nof the current of Oriental influence flowing upon Greece. Already we\nhave seen the spiritual gift of Egypt to the Greek mind shadowed forth\nin the story of Menelaus in the Fourth Book. In these latter Books of\nthe Odyssey the Phoenician intercourse with Hellas is more strongly\nemphasized, with glances into their art, their trade, their navigation.\nAll this Phoenician development the Greek looks at in a wondering way\nas if miraculous; he is reaching out for it also. To be sure the\nPhoenician has a bad name, as a shrewd, even dishonest trader. Still\nhe is the middleman between nations, and a necessity.\n\nThus it appears that the Greeks have lost their Aryan connection, and\nhave become the heirs of a Semitic civilization. Homer does not seem to\nknow his Indo-European kinship, but he does connect Hellas with\nPhoenicia and Egypt in many a spiritual tie. These ties take, for the\nmost part, a mythical form, still they must have been a great fact,\nelse they could not have influenced the mythology of the Greek race. So\nthe present tale through the fiction of the myth-maker, hints the chief\nsocial fact of the time.\n\nThe fiction in the previous Book, which Ulysses began to tell to\nPallas, also started in Crete, looked back at the Trojan war, and\nconnected with Idomeneus, the great hero of Cretan legend in the affair\nof Troy. The Phoenican trader in his ship comes in there too. But\nthat tale is cut short by the Goddess, who knows the disguise. In the\npresent case, however, the swineherd makes no such discovery. The next\nBook will also have its corresponding tale.\n\nUlysses has thus told all about himself to the swineherd, has even\nhinted in one place his disguise. He speaks of Ulysses having gone to\nDodona to consult the sacred oracle \"whether he should return to Ithaca\nopenly or secretly, after so long an absence.\" He runs along the very\nedge of discovering himself. But the swineherd will not believe; \"the\nGods all hate my master\" is still his view. Already a lying AEtolian had\ndeceived him with a similar tale, which also introduced Idomeneus and\nthe Cretans. Ulysses has before himself a new picture of doubt, and its\nblindness; quite a lesson it must have been to the skeptical man.\n\nThe story, in its deepest suggestion, hints the manner of providential\nworking, as seen by the old bard. Eumaeus has already had his prayers\nfor the return of his master fulfilled, though he does not know it, and\nbelieves that they never will be fulfilled. Still he never gives up his\ndivine loyalty and turns atheist. By his charity and piety he has\nhelped, indeed has brought about the return of Ulysses unwittingly. The\nman, if he follow the law, is always helping, though he may not see\nthat he is, may even think that he is not. This ethical order of the\nworld underlies the tale, and is what the ancient listener must have\nfelt so that Homer's poems became a bible to him. Providence in\ndisguise is its title, here represented by the Hero in disguise.\n\nIII. The supper and its preparation are quite fully described; it is\nthe second meal of pork in this Book. This we may pass over, to note\nthe stratagem of Ulysses to obtain a cloak from the swineherd. The\nstranger tells his stratagem once upon a time at Troy for the same\npurpose; whereat the swineherd takes the hint and says: \"Thou shalt not\nlack for a garment or anything else which is befitting a suppliant.\"\nThus Ulysses obtained his cloak, and slept warm by the hearth.\n\nBut the other hint the swineherd did not take, the hint of the\ndisguise. He sees the artifice of his guest to obtain the cloak, but\nnever thinks in his own mind: This is Ulyssess himself, the man of\nwiles trying to get the cloak again tonight. Yet Ulysses has gone far\ntoward telling him just that. The swineherd cannot suspect, it is\nforeign to his nature; this is just his beauty of character and its\nlimitation.\n\nBut Ulysses has to disguise in order to do his work. He is in his own\nland, on his own territory, yet he dares not appear as he is. This is\nnot his fault. His whole object is to get rid of this necessity of\ndisguise, so that he may be himself. The time will not permit candor,\nhence his call is to correct the time. Violence is met by disguise, as\nit always is; fraud destroys itself; the negation negates itself. Such\nis the process which we are now beholding.\n\n\n\n\n_BOOK FIFTEENTH._\n\n\nIn contrast with the previous Book, the present Book has not so much\ndisguise; Ulysses falls somewhat into the background, and several\nundisguised characters came forward. Still there are points in common,\nthe most striking of which is the tale of Eumaeus, the correspondence of\nwhich with the tale of Ulysses in the Fourteenth Book impresses itself\nupon every careful reader.\n\nBut the main fact of the present Book is the bringing together of the\nvarious threads for the grand final enterprise, which is the punishment\nof the guilty Suitors. Ulysses and Eumaeus are already on hand; to them\nnow Telemachus is to be added, who comes from Sparta, whither he had\ngone for the completion of his education. Thus the present Book goes\nback and connects with the Fourth Book in which we left Telemachus.\nStill further, the Ithakeiad is linked into and continues the\nTelemachiad (the first four Books), inasmuch as we now see the purpose\nof that famous journey of the son to the courts of Nestor and Menelaus.\nIt was the training for a deed, a great deed which required knowledge,\nskill, and resolution, and which was to show the youth to be the son of\nhis father.\n\nSuch is another organic link which binds the whole Odyssey together.\nThe two threads, separately developed hitherto, are now united and\ninterwoven with a third, that of Eumaeus. Telemachus has seen two Trojan\nheroes and heard their varied history, he has learned about his father\nwhom he is prepared in spirit to support. So the son has his Return\nalso, a small one, yet important, be returns to Ithaca after the\nexperience at Pylos and Sparta and is joined to the great Return of his\nfather.\n\nBut just here with these evident marks of unity in the poem, occurs a\nslip in chronology which has given the most solid comfort to those who\nwish to break up the Odyssey and assign its parts to different authors.\nIn the Fourth Book (l. 594) Telemachus proposes to set out at once for\nhome, he will not be detained even by the charm of Menelaus and Helen.\nThat was the 6th day of the poem, whereas we find him here leaving\nSparta on 36th day of the poem, according to the usual reckoning. Two\ninferences have been drawn from this discrepancy, if it be a\ndiscrepancy. The Wolfian School cries out in chorus: two different\npoets for the two different passages; it would have been impossible for\nold Homer singing without any written copy thus to forget himself,\nwhatever a modern author might do with the manuscript or printed page\nbefore him. The other set of opinions will run just in the opposite\ndirection: the connection between the Fourth and the Fifteenth Books is\nperfect, as far as thought, narrative, and incident are concerned; the\nancient listener and even the modern reader could pay no attention to\nthe intricate points of chronology in the poem, especially when these\npoints lay more than ten Books or 5,000 lines apart from each other.\nThere is no real sign of discrepant authorship, therefore, but rather a\nnew indication of unity.\n\nThe general theme of the Book is, accordingly, the Return of\nTelemachus, and his uniting with his father and the swineherd, who are\nstill further characterized in their relation. The structure of the\nBook falls easily into three portions: first is the separation of\nTelemachus from Menelaus and Helen till his departure on the ship;\nsecond is the end to which he is moving just now, the hut of Eumaeus,\nwhere are Ulysses and the swineherd, the latter of whom tells his tale\nof discipline and is seen to be a hero too in his sphere; the third\npart is the coming of Telemachus.\n\nI. In the departure of Telemachus from Sparta, we witness the divine\nand human elements again in co-operation. The former is represented by\nPallas who came down to Sparta to \"remind the son of Ulysses of his\nReturn(_nostos_).\" She appears to him in the night as he lies awake\nfull of care; he is ready to see her plan and so she appears on the\nspot and tells it, not in the form of a dream. In the first place, he\nis to hasten home in order to save his substance, which is threatened\nwith new loss through the possible marriage of Penelope with one of the\nsuitors, Eurymachus. The son (through the mouth of Pallas) here shows\nsome bitter feeling toward his mother, whose mind be manifestly does\nnot understand; she is altogether too subtle for her own boy, who has\nnot seen through her disguises. In the second place Pallas warns him\nagainst the ambush of the Suitors, which was no doubt his own forecast\nof the situation. In the third place, the Goddess sends him to the hut\nof the faithful swineherd, whose character he must have already known.\nIn this speech of Pallas we feel everywhere the subjective element; she\nis certainly the voice of Telemachus, yet also the voice of the\nsituation; the divine and human side easily come together, with a\nstronger tinge of the human than is usual in Homer. Still we must not\nforget that Pallas, Goddess of Intelligence, suggests the processes of\nmind more directly than any other deity. Thus we again see that Pallas\nis the organizer of the poem; she brings its threads together through\nher foresight; she sends Telemachus where he unites with Ulysses and\nEumaeus.\n\nThe separation from Menelaus and Helen is told in the style of lofty\nhospitality. Menelaus brings as his present a wine-bowl wrought by\ndivine skill, \"the work of Vulcan,\" which was given him by the king of\nthe Sidonians--another glance back to Phoenicia and its art. Helen\ngives a garment of her own making, which thou shalt preserve as \"a\nkeepsake of Helen\" till the day of thy marriage, \"when thy bride shall\nwear it.\" A most beautiful motive, worthy indeed of Helen and of\nHelen's art; Telemachus is to transfer to his bride, and to her alone,\nhis \"keepsake of Helen,\" his memory of her, his ideal gotten during\nthis journey. Finally Helen appears as prophetess and foretells the\ntotal destruction of the Suitors at the hands of returning Ulysses.\nSuch is the last appearance of Helen to Telemachus, giving strong\nencouragement, suggesting in her two acts a new outlook for the youth\nboth upon Family and State. No wonder his words to her rise into\nadoration: \"Zeus so ordering, there at home I shall pray unto thee as\nunto a God.\"\n\nTelemachus in his return will not pass through Pylos lest he be delayed\nby the importunate hospitality of good old Nestor. And indeed what can\nhe gain thereby? He has already seen and heard the Pylian sage. So he\nsends the latter's son home while he himself goes aboard his ship. But\njust before he sets sail, there comes \"a stranger, a seer, a fugitive,\nhaving slain a man.\" Theoclymenus it is, of the prophetic race of\nMelampus, the history of which is here given. The victim of a fateful\ndeed now beseeches Telemachus for protection and receives it; the\nprophet hereafter will give his forewarnings to the Suitors. Yet he\ncould not save himself from his own fate in spite of his foresight; so\nall the seers of the family of Melampus have a strain of fatality in\nthem; they foreknow, but cannot master their destiny.\n\nII. The scene shifts (l. 301) to the hut of the swineherd, which is the\npresent destination of Telemachus. The reader beholds a further\nunfolding of the character of Eumaeus, in fact this portion of the Book\nmight be called his discipline or preparation to take part in the\nimpending enterprise.\n\nUlysses still further tests the charity and humanity of the swineherd\nby offering to go to town in order to beg for his bread among the\nSuitors, as well as to do their menial tasks. Whereat Eumaeus earnestly\nseeks to dissuade him, reminding him of the insolence of those men and\nof their elegant servants in livery, and assuring him that \"no one here\nis annoyed at thy presence, neither I nor the others.\" Well may Ulysses\nrespond to such a manifestation of charity. \"May thou be as dear to\nZeus, the Father, as thou art to me!\"\n\nThe stranger now tests the swineherd's interest in and devotion to\nLaertes and Eurycleia, who are the parents of Ulysses, the old father\nand mother of the house. So Eumaeus gives an account of his relation to\nthem, as well as to Ktimene, sister of Ulysses; \"with her I was reared,\nand was honored by her mother only a little less.\" Eumaeus will soon\ntell how he came so young to the family of Laertes. Indeed Ulysses is\nmoved by his narrative to ask just this question. It is to be noted\nthat the report of the swineherd about Penelope is not so certain;\n\"from the queen I have had no kindly word or deed, since that evil fell\nupon her house--the haughty Suitors.\" Here lies one motive why Ulysses\nmust go to the palace and test Penelope. Thus Eumaeus shows his love for\nthe family of Ulysses, and responds deeply to the test of universal\ncharity.\n\nVery naturally rises the question as to the history of his life. What\nexperience has called forth such a marvelous character? Eumaeus now\ngives his fateful story. The Phoenician background is again employed,\nwith its commerce in merchandise, with its stealing and selling of\nfree, high-born people into slavery, with its navigation. The pith of\nthe story is, a Phoenician female slave, who had been stolen and\nbought by the king of the country, plays false to her master, steals\nhis child and what valuables she can carry off, and escapes on a\nPhoenician trading vessel after an intrigue with one of its crew. The\ncaptive woman avenged her wrong, but was struck on \"the seventh day by\nDiana, archer-queen,\" for her own double guilt. Eumaeus was that child,\nalso stolen and enslaved, but he is her emphatic contrast; he has been\nable fully to digest his fate. The Phoenician galley came to Ithaca,\n\"and there Laertes purchased me.\" The swineherd is of royal birth and\nretains his more than royal character; in being the humblest he can\nrise to the highest.\n\nInteresting touches of the Phoenician traders are given: \"Sharp\nfellows, having myriads of trinkets in their ship:\" surely it is the\nancient Semitic retailer of jewelry, going from town to town in his\nboat. Then note specially \"the cunning man who came to my father's\nhouse, showing a golden necklace strung with amber beads;\" this amber\nwas obtained doubtless through commerce from the Baltic, by the\nPhoenicians, whose workmanship is also suggested. \"The palace\nservants and my mother took the trinket into their hands, turning it\nover and over; they kept gazing at it haggling about the price;\" the\nsame scene can be witnessed today in our own country towns when the\nJewish peddler appears in the household. In the present case, however,\nit was part of the scheme of stealing the child.\n\nEumaeus says that his father ruled a city in the island of Syria. But\nwhere is this Syria? Some think it is conceived by Homer as lying in\nthe extreme West, \"where the Sun turns;\" but the Sun turns anywhere.\nRather is its position eastward toward Phoenicia; the Taphian pirates\nwho stole the Sidonian woman and sold her into Syria, dwelt not far\nfrom Ithaca and preyed upon Phoenician commerce, stealing and selling\nin the Eastern Mediterranean. Certainly they could find little business\nof their kind in the West. Some vague idea of the actual land of Syria\nmust have flashed in Homer's mind; no more definite description is\npossible.\n\nIt is plain, however, that the poet makes Eumaeus a foreigner, not a\nGreek, whose birth-land lies beyond the Hellenic boundary to the East.\nBut he is not a Phoenician, his character is different, and his\npeople seem not to have been sea-faring. His fundamental trait is\nreligiosity; he lives in the eternal presence of the Divine Ruler of\nthe World. His character is that of the Old Testament; some of his\nutterances are strong reminders of the Psalms. We cannot help reading\nin him something of David and of Job; misfortune he here has had, but\nhe retains an unshaken faith in the deity; intense wrestling he shows,\nbut it has been with him the process of purification. He is not a Greek\nat all; he has a Hebrew character, not of the modern mercantile type,\nwhich resembles more the Phoenician, but of the old Hebrew strain. In\nthose times of man-stealing, Homer could easily have met him in one of\nthe Greek islands, a slave yet a spiritual prince, have drawn his\nportrait, and have heard his story substantially as here given.\n\nIndeed we think we can trace in the swineherd's thoughts and sometimes\nin his expressions a marked monotheistic tendency. Undoubtedly Eumaeus\nspeaks fluently of the Greek Gods, as Diana and Apollo; especially does\nhe mention and honor Zeus, the supreme God; still he is prone to employ\nthe word Gods in the unitary sense of Providence, and he repeatedly\nuses the singular _God_ without the article, as in the passage: \"God\ngrants some things and withholds others at his will, for he is\nall-powerful\" (XIV. 444). And it is characteristic that he does not\nlike Helen, for thus he says in an outburst of anti-Greek spirit: \"O\nwould that Helen and her tribe had utterly perished, for whose sake so\nmany fell!\" (XIV. 68.) Striking is his contrast herein with the\nPhaeacians, and with their love of the Trojan conflict.\n\nWe have already stated that this entire Ithakeiad resembles the novel,\ngiving pictures of the social life of the time, and elevating the\nhumblest man into heroship. In like manner, this story of Eumaeus might\nalmost be called a novelette, truly an Homeric novelette interwoven\ninto the greater totality of the novel here presented in the Ithakeiad,\nand finally into the entire Odyssey. It has its correspondence with the\nFairy Tale of the previous portions of the poem, yet stands in sharpest\ncontrast. Here is no supernatural world far away, but it is the\npresent, it is human life just now, and the hero lives before us. Here\nare no superhuman beings, like Calypso, Circe, Polyphemus, Proteus; the\nenvironment, the coloring, the art-form are totally changed. Nor is it\nan heroic tale of Troy, with its order of Gods, descending and\ninterfering in human affairs; no grand exploits of arms, no mighty\nmustering of glorious warriors. Not high and magnificent Achilles in\nall the pride of his colossal individuality, but humble Eumaeus, a slave\nand a swineherd, has become the Homeric hero. Surely a new style, and a\nnew world-view; yet surely Homer's, not the work of any other man.\n\nIt has been already made plain that we have passed from the Idyl, and\nHeroic Epos, and the Fairy Tale of the first portions of the Odyssey\ninto the Social Romance, which takes the picture of society as its\nsetting. Every human being can now be made a slave; man-stealing,\nwoman-stealing, child-stealing, give the motives for the strangest\nturns of destiny. Already Ulysses in his fictitious tale of the\nprevious Book has become a maker of the novelette; but Eumaeus tells a\ntrue tale of his own life, it has no disguise; he knows his past, he is\naware of his origin. Thus he is an example, showing how the man is\nstill a fate-compeller in such a state of society. Though a slave\nexternally, he can still be a king within; though struck by the hardest\nblow of destiny he can still remain loyal to the Divine Order and\nobtain its blessing.\n\nIt is interesting to note the significance of this Phoenician\nbackground, with its universal commerce. The Phoenician traded\nalready in remote antiquity with the extremes of the Aryan race, from\nIndia in the East to Britain in the West, including the whole\nintervening line of Aryan migration, Persia, Greece, Italy, Gaul. The\nAryan race is indeed a separative, self-repellent, distracted race,\nalways on the move out of itself, without returning into itself. The\nPhoenician, on the contrary, in his farthest voyages, came back home\nwith news and merchandise; the remotest Phoenician settlements kept\nup their connection with the mother country. Deep is the idea of the\nReturn to the parent city in the Semitic consciousness for all time;\nthe Phoenician returned anciently to Tyre and Sidon; the Arab\nMahommedan returns to-day to Mecca, home of the Prophet; the Jew\nexperts to return to Jerusalem, the holy city of his fathers. The\nentire Odyssey may well be supposed to show a Semitic influence, in\ndistinction from the Iliad, for the Odyssey is the account of many\nreturns and of the one all-embracing Return to home and country. It is,\ntherefore, very suggestive that the Odyssey has this Phoenician\nbackground of a world-commerce, which is only possible for a city whose\npeople, going forth, come back to it as a center. Moreover this\nworld-commerce is a kind of unification of the ever-separating Aryan\nrace, a bond created through the exchange of commodities. Thus the\nSemitic character has always shown itself as the unifier and mediator\nof Aryan peoples, first through an external tie of trade, which was the\nwork of Phoenicia, and, secondly, through the far deeper spiritual\ntie of religion, which was the later work of Judea. The Semitic mind\nhas always been necessary to the inherently centrifugal Aryan soul in\norder to bring it back to itself from its wanderings, inner and outer,\nand to reconcile itself with itself and with the Divine Order. The\nSemite has been and still is the priest to all Arya, by the deepest\nnecessity of the spirit.\n\nAnother word we may add in this connection. The Semitic race has also\nseparated itself, and shown three main branches--Phoenician, Hebrew,\nArab--a sea-people, a land-people, and a sand-people. In all three\ncases, however, they have a returning and therewith a mediating\ncharacter. In their wildest wanderings, on water, and in the desert,\nand in the soul, they have the power of getting back; and that which\nthey do for themselves, they aid others in doing.\n\nSo much by way of tracing the universal relations of this poem with its\nPhoenician background of commerce as well as with its Semitic\ncharacter of Eumaeus. For, somehow, we cannot help seeing in this latter\ncertain traits of the old Hebrew.\n\nIII. The last part of the Book returns to Telemachus and his ship; he\nhas escaped the men in ambush, and has reached the Ithacan shore at a\ndistance from the palace; he sends the vessel to the town while he goes\nto the hut of the swineherd in accord with the plan of the Goddess.\n\nBut he has on his hands the seer Theoclymenus, whom he first thinks of\nsending to one of the Suitors; but when the seer utters a favorable\nprophecy, Telemachus sends him to one of his own friends for\nentertainment. A curious touch of policy; it was well to have the\nprophet in a friendly house, where he might be ready for service; even\nprophetic vision can be colored by personal attachments.\n\n\n\n\n_BOOK SIXTEENTH._\n\n\nThis Book connects directly with the preceding Book, and brings about\nnot only the external meeting and recognition of father and son, but\ntheir spiritual fusion in a common thought and purpose. The scene is\nstill laid in the swineherd's hut, but the swineherd himself must be\neliminated at this point. The question rises, Why does the poet hold it\nso necessary to keep the matter secret from Eumaeus? The care which\nHomer takes with this object in view, is noteworthy. Evidently the\nswineherd was not ready to participate, or would endanger the scheme.\nYet of his fidelity there could be no question.\n\nWe have already stated our opinion on this subject. Various external\nreasons may be suggested but the real reason lay in the character of\nEumaeus. He was too sincere, open-hearted, transparent for those wily\nGreeks; he might let out the great secret in pure simplicity of mind;\nhe is their contrast just herein, he is not a Greek. The situation\ndemanded disguise, dissimulation, possibly downright lying; Eumaeus was\nnot the man for that. Such is his greatest honor, yet such is also his\nlimit; if Ulysses and Telemachus were such as he, they would have all\ndied nobly in their cause, but the Suitors would have triumphed, and\nthe institutional world of Ithaca would have gone to the dogs. At least\nits rescue could not have taken place through them. Such is the moral\ncontradiction which now rises, and will continue to rise more and more\ndistinctly to view throughout the rest of the poem.\n\nThere are the two strands in the Book which are the main ones of the\npoem, that of the father and son, and that of the Suitors. Both are\nhere put together and contrasted with new incidents, which are leading\ninevitably to the grand culmination. These two strands we shall now\nbriefly follow out in order. There is also a third portion, the return\nof Eumaeus from the palace to the hut, which portion is short and\nunimportant.\n\nI. Telemachus arrives at the hut of the swineherd, the dogs give him a\nfriendly greeting in contrast to that which they give to Ulysses--a\nfact which shows that the youth must have been in times past a good\ndeal with Eumaeus. Also the affectionate meeting of the two suggests the\nsame thing. Herein we note a reason for Pallas sending him hither--the\nGoddess and the youth coincided. Of course the conversation soon turns\ntoward the stranger present, the disguised Ulysses. Now occurs a subtle\nmovement between father and son who are to be brought together.\n\n(1) First they are in a state of separation, but the disguised Ulysses\nholds the bond of unification in his power. Eumaeus first tells to\nTelemachus the fictitious Cretan story concerning the stranger; then\nUlysses gives a note of his true self: \"Would that I were Ulysses' son\nor the hero himself!\" What then? \"I would be an evil to those Suitors.\"\nThus the father secretly stirs the spirit of the son, in fact\nspiritually identifies himself. The son sends off the swineherd on an\nerrand to Penelope, in order to announce his safe arrival from his\njourney to the mainland. In this way one obstacle is removed--the\nswineherd; now the second obstacle, the disguise is to be stripped\naway.\n\n(2) Herewith occurs a divine intervention, hinting the importance of\nthe present moment. Pallas appears to Ulysses, \"but Telemachus beheld\nher not;\" Why? \"For not by any means are the Gods manifest to all men.\"\nAs already stated, Ulysses has the key of the situation, and sees what\nis now to be done; Telemachus does not see and will not see till his\nfather's disguise be removed. So again the Goddess Pallas appears to\nthe wise man and addresses him because the two are one in thought; no\nother person not in this oneness of the human and divine can see her.\nIn like manner Pallas appears to Achilles, \"seen by him alone,\" in the\nFirst Book of the Iliad; similar too is the case of Telemachus when\nPallas comes to him among the Suitors under the form of Mentes in the\nFirst Book of this Odyssey (see p. 26).\n\nBut just here is added a fact in strangest contrast with the foregoing\nview; \"The dogs (as well as Ulysses) saw the Goddess; they barked not,\nbut ran off whining through the gate in the opposite direction.\" In the\nold Teutonic faith (and probably Aryan) the dog can see a ghost, hence\nhis unaccountable whine at times. The lower animals and even the\nelements recognize the approaching deity by some unusual commotion. But\nmark the contrast: the dogs ran in terror from the presence of the\nGoddess; Ulysses, observing her, \"went out of the house and stood\nbefore her alongside the wall of the court.\" The rational man,\nbeholding, must commune with the deity present, and not run off like a\ndog. If he does not see the Goddess, as in the case with Telemachus\nhere, he is simply outside of her influence.\n\nPallas gives to Ulysses the strong promise of help, reflecting his own\ninternal condition. She transforms him, he appears a new man, nay a God\nto his son, \"some divinity whose home is the broad heaven.\" Then the\nrecognition follows, with its various doubts and its emotional ups and\ndowns. \"In the breasts of both rose the desire of tears; they wept\nshrilly, and louder their screams than those of the eagle whose young\nhave been stolen from its nest.\" Lamentation is a trait of the Homeric\nhero; in the present case it asserts its fullest right. But enough! let\nus pass from heroic tears to heroic deeds.\n\n(3) Next comes the general plan of action. What have we to encounter?\nTelemachus gives a catalogue of the Suitors; they reach the surprising\nnumber of 108 persons plus 10 attendants, including the bard and the\nherald. We now begin to appreciate the greatness of the task. The\nIthacan people are helpless or hostile, the Suitors have friends and\nrelatives everywhere, yet they must be punished, they cannot be allowed\nto escape. But the aid for such an enterprise--whence? asks Telemachus,\nand also the reader. Listen to the answer of Ulysses: \"I shall tell\nthee, and thou bear it well in mind; think whether Pallas with her\nfather Zeus be not sufficient for us, or shall I look about for some\nother defender?\" Such a believer has the skeptic become; he now has\nfaith in the Gods, and in a World Order. It is also a lofty expression\nof belief in his divine mission; the spirit of Eumaeus, which dwells in\nthat humble hut, has entered the heart of the hero. Such are the two\nallies: Pallas, wisdom, and Zeus, fountain of the world's justice,\nwhich had been deeply violated by the Suitors. Telemachus in response,\nassents to his father's words, and acknowledges the supremacy of the\nGods. He also lays aside his doubt and shows himself in a spiritual\nharmony with his father, which must be antecedent to the deed.\n\nThe next part of the plan is that Ulysses in disguise shall go to the\npalace and see for himself the wrongs done to his House, and experience\nsome of these wrongs in his own person. Then too he can make\npreparations on the spot and select the time for striking. Also he\nwishes to test a little further the wife Penelope. Another period of\ndisguise is necessary in order to get rid of the necessity of disguise\nand vindicate the right. Zeus is with him, he is the bearer of\nuniversal justice, which he is to establish anew; but Pallas must also\nbe with him in the act, for it requires all his skill and cunning and\nforethought.\n\nThus the father and son are united in spirit; the last obstacle, which\nwas the disguise, is removed, and they behold each other as they are in\ntruth. The recognition is not merely an external one of face and form,\nor even of the tie of kinship and affection; it is in both a\nrecognition of the Divine Order of the World, which they are now called\nupon to maintain in their own persons, and to re-stablish in their\ncountry.\n\nII. The scene passes from the hut of the swineherd to the palace, where\nthe Suitors soon hear of the safe return of Telemachus. Antinous also\ncomes back, foiled and evidently angered; he proposes to the Suitors\nthat they should slay Telemachus \"in the fields or on the highway\"\nwherever found, or renounce the suit for Penelope in the palace: \"Let\neach one woo her from his own house with gifts.\"\n\nIt is clear that such a violent measure as the assassination of the\nroyal heir in his own territory finds small response even among the\nSuitors. Antinous says that the people are no longer friendly; he\nthinks, when they hear of the recent ambush, that they may rise and\ndrive out the aggressors. Still they do not rise, and probably Antinous\ntried to frighten the Suitors into his drastic method. But he did not\nsucceed, Amphinomus clearly voices their sentiment, and the council\ndissolves.\n\nSoon it is seen that Antinous has lost his cause. Penelope appears and\ngives him a thorough tongue-lashing, in which she also tells his\nantecedents. \"Thy father came to us, a fugitive from the people,\" who\nwere angry at him on account of his piratical misdeeds; \"they wanted to\nkill him, and tear out his heart, and pillage his large wealth\"\nevidently gotten unlawfully. \"But Ulysses restrained them,\" and now\nthis is your gratitude: \"you waste his property, woo his wife, slay his\nson, and worry me to death.\" Antinous is true to his ancestry, he is\nstill a pirate. Strong words are these, which call forth a hypocritical\nreply from another Suitor, Eurymachus, which she probably saw through,\nfor she goes into her upper chamber, where \"she weeps for her dear\nspouse Ulysses, till blue-eyed Pallas cast upon her eyelids sweet\nsleep.\"\n\nThe internal weakness of the Suitors is exposed; it is manifest that\nthey are divided among themselves. In fact, how can they have any\nunity? Each wishes to win the fair prize, which can belong only to one;\nhence every other man is his rival, whom he tries to thwart. Hence come\njealousy and suspicion. The single bond they have in common is their\nwrong-doing, which they feel cannot much longer continue, with\nTelemachus so active.\n\nIII. On the other hand, we pass to the hut of the swineherd, where the\nfather and son show a complete unity of spirit and purpose. Eumaeus\nreturns from his errand; he brings no news specially except that the\nSuitors who formed the ambush have come back to the town. But he is not\nyet to be admitted into the grand secret; so Pallas stood again near\nUlysses, \"striking him with her staff she made him an old man in\nwretched rags.\" He resumes his disguise \"lest the swineherd might\nrecognize him and hasten to announce the fact to Penelope, instead of\nkeeping the secret looked in his bosom.\" So the kind-hearted, sincere\nEumaeus cannot yet be entrusted with the important secret.\n\n\n\n\n_BOOKS XVII-XXIV._\n\n\nThe time has arrived for this exposition of the Odyssey to be brought\nto a close with some degree of rapidity. It has already expanded itself\nbeyond its original purpose; it, too, like Ulysses, has asserted itself\nas limit-transcending. We shall try to indicate the general character\nof these remaining eight Books, to find their place in the total\norganism of the poem, and then give a brief outline of each Book\nseparately.\n\nIt has already often been stated that the Odyssey is a Return, an\nouter, but specially an inner Return from the Trojan War and from the\nalienation and disruption produced by the same. This Return, narrated\nin the twenty-four Books of the poem, divides itself into two equal\nhalves, each containing twelve Books. The first half moves about two\ncenters, Telemachus and Ulysses; the former is to be trained out of his\nignorance, the latter is to be disciplined out of his negative\nattitude toward institutional life, and thus be prepared to rescue\ninstitutional life. The first twelve Books are, therefore, the getting\nrid of the destructive results caused by the Trojan War and all war, in\nthe human soul.\n\nStill Ulysses, with Telemachus, is to do a deed of destruction, he is\nto destroy the Suitors, who are themselves destructive of institutional\norder in Ithaca. In a general way they are like the Trojans, they are\nassailing the domestic and political life of the Greek world; they too\nmust be put down at home by the hero, as Troy was put down abroad by\nhim. But at Troy he became negative through the long training of a ten\nyears' war, the spirit of which he must get rid of before he can slay\nthe Suitors, for he is too much like them to be their rightful\ndestroyer. This, then, is the discipline of the first twelve Books:\nthrough the experience of life to get internally free of that\ndestructive Trojan spirit, to overcome the negative within, and then\nproceed to overcome it without.\n\nNow this overcoming of the negative without (embodied in the Suitors)\nis just the work of the last twelve Books of the Odyssey, which we have\ncalled the Ithakeiad, as the scene is laid wholly in Ithaca. Internally\nboth Ulysses and Telemachus are ready; they have now externally to make\ntheir world conform to their Idea. The trend of the poem is henceforth\ntoward the deed which destroys the outer negation, as hitherto the\ntrend was toward the deed which overcame the inner negation. To be\nsure, the destruction of the Suitors has hovered before the poem from\nthe beginning; but in the second half it is explicit, is the immediate\nend of the action.\n\nThis second half divides itself into two distinct portions. It being\nthe direct movement toward the deed shows in the first portion the\npreparation of the instruments, which takes place at the hut of the\nswineherd. Ulysses is alone, he must find out upon whose aid he can\nrely; his helpers must show not only strength of limb, but strength of\nconviction. Two persons appear--his son and his swineherd; they believe\nthemselves to be the bearers of a Divine Order as against the Suitors;\nthey are the army of three to whom the cowherd is to be hereafter added\non manifesting his loyalty. This part of the poem has been unfolded in\nthe preceding four Books.\n\nThe second portion of this second half of the poem, consisting of eight\nBooks, we are next to consider. Ulysses has hitherto only heard of the\nexcesses of the Suitors; he is now to see them directly and to\nexperience their violence in his own person. He is in disguise and gets\nfull possession of the fact before he proceeds to the deed. The\ninsolent, destructive conduct of the Suitors is set forth in all\nfullness, as well as the subtle attempt of the wife to thwart them;\nthen the blow falls which sweeps them and their deeds out of existence.\nRestoration follows after this terrible act of vengence; Ulysses,\nhaving done his great destructive work, is to show himself\nconstructive, not simply the destroyer, but the healer and restorer.\n\nHow can we best see the sweep of these eight Books and their organic\nconnection with the total Odyssey? No mere formal division will answer,\nnor any external separation into parts. The inner movement of the\nthought is to be found and shown as the organizing principle. On the\nwhole the joints of the structure are not so manifest as in the\nTelemachiad and the Ulyssiad; still they exist. Already it has been\noften said that the essential character of the Suitors is that of\ndestroyers; Ulysses is the destroyer of these destroyers; but in\ndestroying destruction he is also the restorer. Now just these three\nstages of the movement of the inner thought are the three organic\ndivisions of the last eight Books; that is, the thought organizes the\npoem. Let us look more closely.\n\nI. The first five Books (XVII-XXI) are devoted to revealing the Suitors\nas destroyers to Ulysses in person, though he be disguised. Three\nstrands are interwoven into the texture, which we may separate for the\npurpose of an examination.\n\n1. The Suitors are destroying what may in general be called the\ninstitutional world in its three leading forms: (1) Property, (2)\nFamily, (3) State. To these may be added their disregard and even open\ndefiance of the Gods, who are the upholders, or rather the personified\nembodiment of all institutional life. Hence the statement may be made\nthat the Suitors are, as far as their deeds go, the destroyers of the\nDivine Order of the World; they are spiritually negative.\n\n2. The second strand is that of Ulysses (to whom Telemachus and the\nswineherd can be added) who is to behold with his own eyes, to\nexperience in his own person, the character and acts of the Suitors;\nthen he is also to plan and prepare for their destruction. As he has\novercome his own negative condition inwardly, in the spirit, he must be\nable to overcome the same condition outwardly, in the world.\n\n3. The third strand is that of Penelope, the wife, who is seeking to\nthwart the attempt of the Suitors to make her marry one of themselves;\nthus she is heroically preserving the Family. She, with the loyal part\nof her household, co-operates with Ulysses, though not aware who he is.\nBetween the second and third strands are many interweavings, both being\nopposed to the Suitors. Penelope, to delay her marriage, proposes the\nBending of the Bow, which gives the weapon and the opportunity to\nUlysses. (Book XXI.)\n\nII. The second stage of the grand movement is given in one Book (XXII).\nThis is the single bloody Book of the poem, it makes up all\ndeficiencies in the way of sanguinary grewsomeness. The destroying\nSuitors are themselves destroyed by Ulysses, who therein is destroyer.\nHence the blood-letting character of the Book and of the deed; 116 men\nskin, 12 women hung, and one man mutilated unto death.\n\nIII. But the destroyer Ulysses destroys destruction, and so becomes\npositive; in the last two Books he is shown as the restorer of the\ninstitutional order which the Suitors had assailed and were\nundermining. He restores the Family (Book XXIII), and the State (Book\nXXIV). This is, then, the end of the Return, indeed the end of the\ngrand disruption caused by the Trojan War, to which Ulysses set out\nfrom Ithaca twenty years before. The absence of the husband and ruler\nfrom home and country gave the opportunity for the license of the\nSuitors. But the Return has harmonized the distracted condition of the\nland; institutions, Family and State, are freed of their conflict; even\nthe Gods, Zeus and Pallas (authority and wisdom) enforce the new order,\nbringing peace and concord.\n\nStill, despite the bloody death of the Suitors, there runs through this\nportion of the Odyssey (the last eight Books) a vein of charity, of\nhumanity, sometimes even of sentiment, which seems to link the poem\nwith our own age. Yet the other side is present also; there is little\npity for the unrighteous, and justice is capable of becoming cruel. The\nSuitors and their set of servants are represented as unfeeling and\ninhuman; Penelope and the whole loyal household on the other hand show\nsympathy with poverty and misfortune. Such, indeed, has been their\ndiscipline, that of adversity, which softens the heart toward the\nvictims of hard luck.\n\nThe disguise of Ulysses is continued, and also the craft of Penelope.\nThe moral questioning which these two characters have always roused\ndoes not diminish. The hardest practical problem of life comes to the\nfront in their case. Both are willing to meet unjust violence with\ndissimulation, till they get the power to act openly. They put down a\ndishonest world with dishonesty, and then proceed to live honestly. It\nis another phase of that subtle play of the Negative, with which\nUlysses had to grapple repeatedly in Fableland, and of which the\nOdyssey is full. Every situation seems to have its intricate ethical\nproblem, which the reader has to solve as he solves such questions in\nactual life. Our opinion upon this element in the poem we have already\ngiven, and need not repeat it here.\n\nWe must note that Ulysses still keeps up his romancing in order to\nexplain his presence in Ithaca and his beggarly appearance. He\nintroduces a kind of story, which we have called the Novelette in\ndistinction from the Fairy Tale. The scene is usually thrown back\neastward to Crete, the Trojan War furnishes the background, the famous\nCretan hero Idomeneus is usually in some way connected with the\nstranger who is speaking. No less than five such Novelettes are found\nin the last twelve Books--some long, some brief. He tells one to Pallas\n(XIII. 256), to Eumaeus the longest one (XIV. 199), to Antinous a short\ninterrupted one (XVII. 425), to Penelope (XIX. 172), finally one to his\nfather Laertes (XXIV. 304), in which the scene seems to be changed to\nthe West from the mention of Sicania.\n\nFor the reader who may wish to follow out in detail these eight Books,\nwe append a general survey of each, in which the thought and the\nstructure are suggested, yet by no means elaborated. We have in the\npreceding pages given quite fully what we deem the main points of the\nOdyssey; there remains only this winding-up of the work in a rapid\nsummary.\n\n_Book Seventeenth._ We now pass from the country and the hut of the\nswineherd to the town and the palace of the king. This is an important\ntransition, and evidently marks a turning-point in the last twelve\nBooks of the Odyssey. The change of location brings us to the scene of\nthe forthcoming deed, and into the presence of the two conflicting\nsides. The structure of the Book moves about two centers, Telemachus\nand Ulysses.\n\nI. Telemachus is first to start for the city, where he arrives, and is\nreceived with great joy by the household. The mother asks him whether\nhe has obtained any tidings from his father. But he shuns her question,\nbids her make fresh vows to the Gods, and goes off to look after his\nguest, the prophet Theoclymenus. The Suitors throng about him, but do\nhim no harm; a number of his friends are near at hand, and the Suitors\nare divided among themselves.\n\nAfter his return to the palace, Telemachus tells his mother the story\nof his journey. First he went to Pylos and \"saw Nestor there,\" and held\nintercourse with the wise old man of the Greeks, which was certainly a\nmemorable event in the life of the youth. But Nestor could tell him\nnothing about the present condition or dwelling-place of Ulysses, so\nthe son was sent onwards to Sparta, to Menelaus, where \"I saw Argive\nHelen, for whose sake the Greeks and Trojans suffered many evils by\nwill of the Gods.\" Menelaus tells Telemachus the words of Proteus\nconcerning his father Ulysses, gently touching the story of the nymph\nCalypso, whereat the queen was deeply moved. His news is that his\nfather cannot return.\n\nAt this point the prophet comes in with his prophecy. \"I declare that\nUlysses in his own land again, sitting or creeping about in secret; he\nis taking note of these evil deeds just now, and plans destruction for\nthe Suitors.\" The response of Penelope shows her mind. \"May thy\nprophetic word be fulfilled!\" It is well to note the art with which\nthis prophet has been brought to the palace of Ulysses to foreshadow\nthe coming event.\n\nMoreover this whole passage connects with the Third and Fourth Books,\nwhich recounted the Journey of Telemachus to Pylos and Sparta. Of\ncourse the school of dissectors have sought to show the entire\nnarrative here to be an interpolation by a later hand. One says that\nthe brief allusion to the trip is tiresome to the reader. As if Homer\ncomposed for readers! But what reader ever found these few lines\ntiresome? The whole account of the son to the mother is one of the\nlinks which bind the Odyssey into unity, hence the wrath against it in\ncertain quarters.\n\nII. The second part of the present Book gives the movements of Ulysses,\nand is more important and more fully elaborated than the preceding\npart. The hero is in disguise, he is to take his first glimpse of the\nstate of affairs in his palace. He will experience in his own person\nthe wrongs of the Suitors and their adherents; he will apply a test to\nbring out their character. This test is that of humanity, of charity\ntoward a beggar; how will the Suitors behave toward him?\n\nWhile he is on the way to the city with Eumaeus, he has his preliminary\nskirmish. They meet the goatherd Melanthius, who at the sight of the\nbeggar breaks out into abuse. There is an inhuman note in his speech,\nwhich we may regard as one result of the present disorder of the\ncountry. Doubtless the swineherd and the goatherd were rivals, and\nshowed a professional jealousy; but Melanthius had extracted from his\nhumble calling a disposition quite opposite to that of Eumaeus, and had\nbecome disloyal to his master's House.\n\nThe approach to the palace is indicated by the song of the bard and the\nnoise of feasting guests. Still the disguised Ulysses is recognized by\none living object: his old dog Argo, who dies on the spot out of joy at\nseeing his master again. Full of sentiment and tenderness is the\ndescription; it has a modernity of touch which will be often noticed in\nthis second half of the Odyssey. Much comment has been bestowed upon\nthe incident; but its most striking characteristic is its symbolism.\nThe old dog, neglected now, full of vermin, hardly able to crawl, yet\nloyal in his heart; why should he not receive the praise of Eumaeus, who\ntells of his former skill in the chase! The dog Argo images the House\nof Ulysses at present; to such straits has fidelity come. A famous\nstatement here by Eumaeus cannot be passed over: \"The day which makes\nthe man a slave, Zeus takes half his worth away.\" True generally of\nmen, but not of the slave who utters it, he being the fate-compeller.\n\nUlysses now applies his test of charity to the Suitors. He goes around\nto them, asking for alms, like a beggar, that he might observe them\nall, and \"know who was better and who was worse.\" But in the end not\none of them was to be spared. Such was the supreme test, that of\ncharity; how will the Suitors treat the poor beggar? Will they behave\ntoward him as Eumaeus has? Not by any means; the test calls out the\nworst suitor of the lot, Antinous, who finally hurls a stool at the\nsupposed intruder. The other Suitors give something, not their own;\nstill they share in the guilt. Is this test of charity, selected by the\npoet here, a true test of such characters? One result of the present\nviolation of law and order is inhumanity, cruelty, disregard of the\nfellow-man. Especially marked is their contrast with Eumaeus, who, in\nresponse to the harshness of Antinous, says: \"The famous men of earth\n(such as the seer, the doctor, the builder, the bard) are invited to\nthe feast; no one would invite a beggar to an entertainment.\" Still the\nbeggar is here to be invited. A ring of modern sentiment is surely\nheard in this passage; the subjective element of Christendom seems\nembodied in that swineherd a thousand years before its time.\n\nThe poet does not leave out of this Book the previous tendency of\nUlysses to romancing. In the talk with Antinous he begins another tale\nor rather the old one, with Egypt and Cyprus in the background. It is,\nin substance, the story of the attack on the Ciconians, which Ulysses\ncannot help telling when he looks back toward his Trojan period. Here\nagain it is truth in the form of fiction.\n\nMeantime the uproar has called forth Penelope, who desires to see the\nstrange beggar. The wish is conveyed to Ulysses, who artfully requests\nthat the interview be deferred till night-fall; the wife might see\nthrough his disguise. The time for this recognition has not yet come.\nShe wishes to hear of her husband, thinks of him in some such pitiable\nplight as this beggar is in; she shows sympathy. A charitable\ndisposition is indeed a characteristic of the whole household, nurses\nand all; misfortune has brought its blessing. Herein the contrast with\nthe Suitors is emphatic, they are a stony-hearted set, trained by their\ndeeds to violence and inhumanity.\n\nEumaeus praises the minstrel talent of Ulysses; the poet endows his hero\nwith the gift of song in this poem; compare the praise given by\nAlcinous to the singer of Fableland. So Achilles in the Iliad was found\nby the embassy singing the glory of heroes. Nor must we pass by that\ndeeply-grounded belief in the good-luck which comes from a sneeze.\nTelemachus sneezes at the right moment, and Penelope interprets the\nomen, with a smile, however, which hints a touch of humorous\nincredulity. Finally we may reflect upon that true Homeric view of the\nworld indicated in the words of Telemachus: \"All these matters will be\ncared for by myself and the Immortals.\" These are the two sides working\ntogether throughout the poem.\n\n_Book Eighteenth._ Ulysses, as beggar, has now gotten a foothold in his\nown house. He has made the transition in disguise from the hut to the\npalace; he has tried his preliminary test upon the Suitors, the test of\ncharity, and found out their general character. He is not recognized,\non account of external disguise in part; yet this disguise has its\ninternal correspondence.\n\nThe present Book is one of warnings; on all sides the Suitors are\nadmonished of the day of wrath which is coming. In Homeric fashion they\nare told to change, to repent, to cease their wrong-doing. We observe\nthree parts: first is the conflict with the beggar Irus, foreshadowing\nthe conflict and outcome with the Suitors; second is the appearance of\nPenelope, the female Ulysses in craft and in disguise, here hoodwinking\nthe Suitors; third is the male Ulysses, in craft and in disguise,\nobserving, testing, planning fate for the guilty.\n\nI. Ulysses has assumed the part of a beggar, but he finds a real beggar\non the ground ready to dispute his right. Irus, this mendicant, has a\ncharacter on a par with the Suitors, violent, inhuman, insolent; he is,\nmoreover, one with the Suitors in taking other people's property for\nnothing. There is no doubt that the poet casts an image of the Suitors\nin the portrait of Irus, who acts toward Ulysses the beggar, as they do\ntoward Ulysses the ruler. It is manifest by word and deed that his\nhumble life has not given him the training to charity.\n\nThe result of the competition between the real and the disguised beggar\nis a fight, which is urged on by the Suitors for the sport of the\nthing; Antinous is specially active in this business, which is a\ndegraded Olympic contest. Homer too shows his love of the athlete by\nhis warm description of the body and limbs of Ulysses, who \"showed his\nlarge and shapely thighs, his full broad shoulders, his chest and\nsinewy arms,\" when he stripped for the contest.\n\nThere can be only one outcome of such a fight under such circumstances,\nespecially in an heroic poem. But is not Ulysses himself inhuman and\nuncharitable toward his poor beggar rival? Certainly he does not deal\nwith him gently, and the modern reader is apt to think that Ulysses\nought now to have his own test of charity applied to himself. Still his\ndefense is at hand: Irus sided with the Suitors, had their character,\nTelemachus says they favored him; he is harsh and merciless to his\nseeming fellow-beggar, and so he gets his own, though Ulysses at first\nwarns him, and wishes to be on good terms with him: \"I do not speak or\ndo thee any wrong, nor do I envy thee getting alms; this threshold is\nlarge enough for both of us; thou art a beggar as well as I. So beware\nmy wrath.\" Surely a sufficient warning, which, if unheeded, draws down\nthe fateful consequences.\n\nBut the chief justification of the poet lies in the fact that this\ncontest with Irus is sent before the main conflict as a prototype and a\nwarning. The Suitors looked on and saw the miserable beggar completely\nundone; \"they threw up their hands and nearly died laughing;\" a case of\nblind fatuity, for they were soon to be in the place of Irus, every one\nof them. A little later Telemachus suggests the connection: \"Would that\nthe Suitors might droop their heads overcome in our house, as now Irus\nsits at the hall gate with drooping head like a drunken man, and cannot\nstand erect or walk home, since his dear limbs have been loosened.\"\n\nAnother note of warning is given specially to Amphinomus, who had\nextended a very friendly salutation to Ulysses after the victory, and\nwho was the most honorable man of the Suitors. Ulysses again resorts to\nfiction in order to convey his lesson, \"Many were the wrongs I did;\"\nhence my present condition. \"Let no men ever work injustice,\" such as\nthese Suitors are guilty of; the avenger \"I now declare to be not far\naway from his friends and his country.\" Hence the warning: \"May some\nGod bring thee home\" at once, for bloody will be the decision. But\nAmphinomus does not obey, though \"his mind foreboded evil;\" he remained\nin the fateful company and afterwards fell by the hand of Telemachus.\n\nII. The real person for whose possession this whole contest is waged is\nnow introduced--Penelope. She appears in all her beauty; Pallas\ninterferes divinely in order to heighten the same, making her \"more\nstately in form and fairer than the ivory just carved.\" She is indeed\nthe embodiment of all that is beautiful and worthy in that Ithacan\nlife; loyalty to husband, love of her child, devotion to family, the\nstrongest institutional feeling she shows, with no small degree of\nartifice, of course. Just now she reproves her son for having permitted\nthe recent fight: \"thou hast allowed a stranger guest to be shamefully\ntreated.\" Thus she shows her secret unconscious sympathy with her\nhusband in disguise.\n\nThen she turns her attention to the Suitors. She alludes to the parting\nwords of her husband as he set out for Troy: \"When thou seest thy son a\nbearded man, marry whom thou wilt and leave the house.\" The time has\ncome when she has to endure this hateful marriage; how the thought\nweighs upon her heart! But we catch a glimpse of her deeper plan in the\nfollowing: \"The custom of Suitors in the olden time was not such as\nyours; they would bring along their own oxen and sheep and make a feast\nfor the friends of the maiden whom they wooed, and give her splendid\ngifts; they consumed not other folk's property without recompense.\"\nWhat does all this mean?\n\nOne result takes place at once. The Suitors all hasten to bring her\ntheir presents, and thus conform to the good old time and to her\nopinion. Great was the hurry: \"Each dispatched his herald to bring a\ngift.\" Does the poet hint through a side glance the real state of the\ncase? Hear him: \"Ulysses wad delighted when he saw her wheedling the\nSuitors out of their gifts and cajoling their mind with flattering\nspeech, while her heart planned other things.\" Cunning indeed she has\nand boundless artifice; what shall we make of her? As already often\nsaid, craft is her sole woman's weapon against man's violence, and she\nuses it with effect for the defense of her home and her honor. Is she\njustified? Is such deception allowable under the circumstances? Thus\nthe poem puts the test to the modern reader, and makes him ponder the\nmoral problem of life.\n\nOne other point we should note in this speech of Penelope to the\nSuitors. She says that their method of wooing was not the accustomed\nway; they had no right to expect such entertainment for such a body of\nmen. They had the right of suit, but it must be conducted in a lawful\nmanner. Thus they are violating custom, or making it a pretext for\ndoing injustice. But she meets violence with cunning, and rude force\nwith craft.\n\nIII. Ulysses now takes note of another phase of the wrong done to his\nhousehold by the Suitors; they debauch the female servants, of whom\nMelantho is an example. The seeming beggar wishes to stay all night by\nthe fires kindled in the palace, and take care of them, instead of the\nmaids who usually looked after them. This plan of his evidently\ninterferes with an existing arrangement, hence the abusive words of\nMelantho toward him first, and then the scoffing speech of Eurynomus,\nher lover, who lets fly at him a footstool which hits the cupbearer.\nGeneral confusion results, in the midst of which Telemachus commands\norder which is seconded by Amphinomus. After a cup of wine, all retire\nto their homes. But Ulysses has got an inkling of what is transpiring\nbetween the Suitors and some of the maid-servants. Hereafter we shall\nsee that both share in the punishment.\n\n_Book Nineteenth._ This is a strong Book of its kind. Penelope is the\ncenter, her difficulties are shown anew, moreover they are about to\nreach their culmination. The husband disguised here tests the wife, and\nfinds out by his own personal observation her fidelity. Her womanly\ninstincts are still intact, in spite of the dissolute surroundings.\nUlysses discovers that he is not to meet with the fate of Agamemnon on\nhis return home.\n\nFrom the preceding Book, which was occupied with the external conflicts\nin the palace, we move in the present Book more and more to the heart\nof the business, which is the union in the hearts of husband and wife.\nThe oneness of the Family after long separation of its two members is\nthe ethical theme, showing that such union is eternal, as far as the\neternal can be shown in Time. Two divisions we shall mark: Ulysses and\nhis son Telemachus first, then Ulysses and his wife Penelope.\n\nI. The two men, father and son, are seen preparing for the conflict\nwhich is drawing on--just that being the duty of men. The weapons which\nwere hanging on the walls of the banqueting-room are removed in the\nabsence of the Suitors and of the servants. Also a pretext is framed\nfor their removal. Moreover \"Pallas, holding before them her golden\nlamp, made very beautiful light.\" Certainly the Goddess was there, the\nscene shows her in every part; \"Such is the wont of the Olympians,\"\nsays Ulysses; divine illumination descends upon a work of this kind.\n\nII. But by far the longest portion of the Book is devoted to the\ninterview between Ulysses and Penelope. Telemachus goes off to his\nchamber to rest for the night; Ulysses is now received by his wife at\nthe hearth. The various turns of this lengthy account we shall throw\ninto four divisions.\n\n1. By way of introduction, the faithless handmaid Melantho again shows\nher character in a harsh speech to Ulysses, \"Get out, you beggar! Will\nyou still keep sneaking through the house by night to spy out women?\"\nSo she reveals plainly what she is, and even mentions the test which\nshe cannot stand. Ulysses in his reply enforces charity: \"I was once\nrich, but I gave the poor wanderer alms.\" Beware of the day of\nreckoning: such is his repeated warning to all these people.\n\nPenelope also gives a sharp reproof to the shameless handmaid, and\nintimates the fate impending: \"Thou hast done a deed which thy head\nshall atone for.\" It is again to be noted that the guilty are the\ninhuman, while the faithful have charity. Penelope specially shows this\ntrait in the present Book, though her threat to Melantho is not gentle.\nQuite as Ulysses served Irus, Penelope is ready to serve Melantho; both\ncan become uncharitable toward the uncharitable; both can meet evil\nwith evil, and fight the negative with negation.\n\n2. The main purpose of this portion of the interview is to furnish\nPenelope with hope. She seems on the point of giving up the long\ncontest, she has played her last stratagem against the Suitors. Now she\nmust choose one of them, her parents urge it, her son demands it; there\nseems no escape, though she hates the marriage like black Death. In\nsuch a frame of mind, the disguised Ulysses is to divert her thoughts\nwith a story, to gain her confidence in his honesty, and to give a\nstrong promise of her husband's speedy return. The manner in which he\nputs these three points in succession is worthy of study.\n\nFirst, he must give some account of himself, of his lineage and of his\nconnections. Here he employs his old fiction, he feigns a tale, putting\nthe scene into Crete, and allying himself with the famous stock of\nMinos, as well as with the well-known Cretan hero Idomeneus so often\ncelebrated in the Iliad, whose brother he claimed to be. \"There I saw\nUlysses and entertained him.\" This story of his life has an analogy to\nwhat he told Eumaeus (Book XIV. 199) and Antinous (Book XVII. 425). All\nthree differ in details, being adjusted to the person and the occasion;\nstill all are cast into the same general mould, with the scene placed\nin the East on the borderland toward Phenicia and with the Trojan war\nin the background. It is another Homeric novelette suggesting a life of\nadventure on sea and land, and showing sparks of that enterprising\nGreek spirit, of which the Odyssey is the best record. But the poet\nadds: \"So he went on fabricating lies like truth;\" which indicates that\nhe told more than is in the text and completed his story.\n\nIn the second place, Penelope applies her test, for she is not so\ncredulous as to believe every wandering story-teller: \"Describe me the\ngarments he had on.\" Truly a woman's test. It is needless to say that\nUlysses responds with great precision. She, however, had no suspicion,\nwhich might arise from such a complete account. It is no wonder that\nPenelope proposed to entertain this beggar guest, one who has been so\nhospitable to her husband, of whom she declares in an outburst of\ndespair: \"I never shall behold him returning home.\"\n\nAt this point the disguised Ulysses makes his third and principal\nspeech to his wife, imparting to her the hope that Ulysses will return.\nThis completes his story, introducing the Thesprotians again (as in\nother tales) and the oracle of Dodona. He almost lets the secret out:\n\"He is alive and will soon be here; not far off is he now, I swear it.\"\nNot much further could disguise be carried. Still Penelope remains\nskeptical: \"I must think he will not come home.\" Her hard lot, however,\nhas not hardened her heart, but softened it rather; she reveals her\nnative character in the words here spoken (Bryant's Translation):--\n\n    Short is the life of man, and whoso bears\n    A cruel heart, devising cruel things,\n    On him men call down evil from the gods\n    While living, and pursue him when he dies,\n    With scoffs. But whoso is of generous heart,\n    And harbors generous aims, his guests proclaim\n    His praises far and wide to all mankind,\n    And numberless are they who call him good.\n\n3. Having been brought so near to a discovery, we next come to an\nactual discovery by the nurse Eurycleia. She is commanded by Penelope\nto bathe the beggar's feet, which she does with no little sympathy and\nlamentation. The character of the nurse is in a certain sense the echo\nof that of Penelope, the echo in emotion, and in fidelity, if not in\nintelligence. She gives way to her feelings, she recalls the image of\nUlysses, whom she nursed, and addresses him as present. She beholds in\nthe stranger the resemblance at the start. \"I have never yet seen any\none so like Ulysses as thou art in body, voice and feet.\" We now\nobserve that Ulysses really selects Eurycleia, \"a certain old woman,\ndiscreet, who has endured as much as I have: she may touch my feet\"\n(line 346). He sought for some confidant among the servants, one who\nmight be needed for important duties before and during the fight;\nEurycleia is chosen, since Ulysses knew that she would discover the\nscar on his foot and thus recognize him. All of which takes place,\nUlysses exacts secrecy, and she replies, giving a hint of her character\nas well as the reason why she was chosen: \"Thou knowest my firmness, I\nshall hold like the solid rock or iron.\"\n\nThere is a long narrative pertaining to the manner in which Ulysses\nreceived the wound which caused the scar. Much fault has been found\nwith this story for various reasons, but it gives a certain relief as\nwell as epical fullness to the movement of the Book. It is, however,\none of those passages which may have been interpolated--or may not, and\njust there the argument stands. It traces the character of Ulysses back\nto his grandfather Antolycus, the most cunning of mortals, and also\ngives the etymology (fanciful probably) of the name of Ulysses.\n(Odysseus, the Greek form of Ulysses, is here derived from a Greek word\nmeaning _to be angry_.)\n\n4. After the bath Ulysses returns to the hearth where Penelope is still\nsitting. She tells her dream of the eagle which destroyed her geese,\nand which then spoke by way of interpretation: \"The geese are the\nSuitors and I, once the eagle, am now thy husband.\" Such is the\ndeep-lying presentiment of Penelope, indicated by the dream, which\ncrops out in spite of her declared skepticism. Note that she dreams not\nonly the dream but also dreams its interpretation; surely she is\nconscious of some hope now.\n\nThe legend at the end of the Book, which tells of the two Gates of\nDreams, one of ivory and one of horn, has roused much curiosity among\nreaders about its purport, and has inspired much imitation from later\npoets. Through the Gate of Horn (dimly transparent) comes the true\ndream; through the Gate of Ivory (polished on the outside, but letting\nno light through) comes the false dream. Such is the more common\nexplanation, but Eustathius derives the whole story from two puns on\nGreek words for horn and ivory. At any rate there are the two sorts of\ndreams, one getting the impress of the future event, the other being\nmerely subjective.\n\nBut Penelope has another suggestion, which is found widely scattered in\nfolk-lore, the Bending of the Bow. This incident, however, is developed\nin a later Book. It is one of her schemes to defer the hated marriage,\nafter the new hope given by the stranger. She will not yet give up.\n\n_Book Twentieth._ This book is devoted to describing more fully the\nsituation in the house of Ulysses just before the slaying of the\nSuitors. The guilty and the guiltless are indicated anew, with fresh\nincidents; especially the fatuity of the Suitors is set forth in a\nvariety of ways. The scene is in the palace.\n\nThe Book may be divided into three portions, which deal with (1) the\nroyal pair, (2) the servants faithful and faithless, (3) the Suitors at\ntheir banquet.\n\nI. Ulysses is lying on the porch, restless, unable to sleep; he sees\nthe disloyal women of the household come forth to the embraces of the\nSuitors. He commands himself: \"Endure it, heart; thou hast borne worse\nthan this.\" Pallas has at last to come and to answer his two\ntroublesome thoughts: \"How shall I, being only one, slay the Suitors,\nbeing many?\" And still, that is not the end. \"How shall I escape\nafterward, if I succeed?\" Wherein we may note already a hint of the\nlast Book of the Odyssey. Pallas reproves him, yet gives him assurance.\n\"If fifty bands of men should surround us,\" still we shall win, \"for I\nam a God, and I guard thee always in thy labors.\" Whereupon Ulysses at\nonce went to sleep.\n\nThe wife Penelope is also having her period of anxiety and of weeping\nfor her husband; she prays to Diana and wishes for death, being awake.\nBut when asleep, her unconscious nature asserts itself: \"This very\nnight a man like him lay by me, my heart rejoiced, I thought it no\ndream.\" Such is the contrast between her waking and her sleeping state;\nin the one her skepticism, in the other her instinct manifests itself.\n\nII. We now pass to quite a full survey of the servants of the\nhousehold. Female slaves have to grind the corn to make bread for the\nSuitors; one of these slaves is still at her task, though past\ndaybreak, she being the weakest of all. Standing at her hand-mill she\nutters the ominous word: \"O Zeus, ruler, fulfill this wish for me\nwretched: may the present feast of the Suitors be their last, they who\nhave loosed my limbs with painful toil in grinding their barley meal!\"\nThus the prayer of the poor overworked slave-woman calls down the\nvengeance of the Gods, giving the word of friendly omen to the avenger.\nCertainly a most powerful motive; but again we think, how modern it\nsounds! Yet ancient too the thought must have been, for here it stands\nin Homer truly prophetic of many things.\n\nEurycleia is the controlling power among the handmaids, of whom there\nwas a large number; \"twenty went to the spring to fetch water, while\nothers were busy about the house,\" preparing for the coming banquet.\nThe swineherd Eumaeus came with three fat porkers; his disloyal\ncounterpart, Melanthius, also appeared with goats for the feast; both\nagain show their character to Ulysses. The cowherd Philoetius is now\nintroduced, in a full account; he is one of the faithful, has charity\nfor the beggar, and shows his fidelity in a number of points. The\nbeggar assures him: \"Ulysses will return, thou shalt see him slaying\nthose Suitors,\" whereupon Philoetius volunteers his aid.\n\nThus the forces are assembling; the two sides, loyal and disloyal, are\nseparating more and more, preparatory to the grand struggle. Ulysses in\nhis disguise has discovered those upon whom he can depend. But the\nbanquet is ready, the Suitors, who have been plotting against the life\nof Telemachus, enter; they are divided among themselves, and can show\nno concerted action.\n\nIII. This banquet is noticeable, inasmuch as Telemachus asserts the\nmastery in his own house and defies the Suitors. He honors the beggar\nas his guest, and gives warning that nobody insult the poor stranger,\n\"lest there be trouble.\" A number of Suitors show their ill feeling;\none of them, named Ktesippus, flings a bullock's foot at Ulysses \"for a\nhospitable present,\" at which the latter \"smiled in sardonic fashion,\"\nbut said nothing. Telemachus, however, reproves the agressor with great\nspirit, and asserts himself anew against all deeds of violence. One of\nthe more reasonable Suitors, Agelaus, makes a speech, which commends\nTelemachus but insists upon his ordering his mother \"to marry the man\nwho is best and who will give most presents.\" In reply Telemachus\ndeclares that he does not hinder the choice of his mother, but that he\nwill not force her to marry. \"That may God never bring about.\" (_Theos_\nwithout article.)\n\nNow follows a series of miraculous signs, prodigies, mad doings, which\nprefigure the coming destruction. Insane laughter of the Suitors, yet\nwith eyes full of tears, and with hearts full of sorrow: what does it\nall forbode? Here comes the seer Theoclymenus with a terrible\ninterpretation uttered in the true Hebrew prophetic style: \"The hall I\nsee full of ghosts hastening down to Erebus; the sun in Heaven is\nextinguished, and a dark cloud overspreads the land.\" The Suitors\nbemock the prophet, who leaves the company with another fateful vision:\n\"I perceive evil coming upon you, from which not one of you Suitors\nshall escape.\" More taunts are flung at Telemachus who now says\nnothing; he, his father, and his mother, witness the mad banquet, which\nis a veritable feast of Belshazzar, and which has also its prophet. The\nHebrew analogy is striking.\n\n_Book Twenty-first._ The test presented in many a tale is here\nintroduced at the turning-point of destiny. The Bending of the Bow and\nskill in the use thereof are incidents in the folk-lore of every\npeople. The theme is naturally derived from a social condition, in\nwhich the bow and arrow are the chief weapons of defense and offense,\nemployed against human foes and wild animals. Hence the strong man, the\nHero, is the one able to bend the strong bow and to use it with\ndexterity. Such a man uses the chief implement of his time and people\nwith the greatest success, hence he is the greatest man. So we have the\ntest of bending the bow, which simply selects the best man for the time\nand circumstances.\n\nIn recent interpretations of mythology, this employment of the bow and\narrows has been connected with the sun and its rays. Ulysses is\ndeclared to be really a sun-god, a form of Apollo, deity of archery; he\nshoots his arrows which are sunbeams and destroys the Suitors, who are\nthe clouds obstructing his light, and wooing his spouse, the day or the\nsky. It is also noteworthy that on this very day of the slaughter of\nthe Suitors, there is a festival in Ithaca to Apollo, god of light and\narchery. This is usually regarded as the New Moon (_Neomenios_)\nfestival. Antinous refers to it (l. 259) and proposes to defer the\ncontest on that account. But Ulysses is made to shoot on the festal day\nof the sungod.\n\nThere is no doubt that mythology is closely connected with Nature, out\nof which it develops. In the Vedic hymns we see this connection in the\nmost explicit manner, and threads of the old Aryan Mythus can often be\npicked out in Homer. Still we must recollect that it was the archer man\nwho first projected the archer god out of himself, and it is no\nexplanation of Ulysses to say that he represents the sun-god; rather\nthe sun-god represents him. Moreover, the ethical purpose of Ulysses in\nslaying the Suitors is the soul of the poem, which is to find its\nadequate interpretation in that purpose and in that alone. The incident\nof Bending the Bow is wrought into a grand scheme of indicating the\nethical order of the world.\n\nThe three divisions of the Book we shall briefly note, observing how\nthe bow rejects the unfit, and selects the right man.\n\nI. It is Pallas (not Apollo, the archer) who started in the mind of\nPenelope this scheme of testing the Suitors. Why a Goddess here? It is\nfirst a chance thought of the woman, but then it becomes an important\nlink in the movement of divine nemesis; hence the poet, according to\nthis custom, traces the inspiration of the idea to a deity. The history\nof the famous bow is given with an especial delight in details.\nPenelope herself goes to the room where the armor of the house was\nkept, gets the bow, and announces the contest to the Suitors.\n\nThe man who can bend the bow and send the arrow through the twelve\nrings, is to bear her away as his bride. The trial is made, no Suitor\nis able to bend the weapon. Interesting is the prophet among the\nSuitors, Leiodes, who tries his hand, yet gives the warning: \"This bow\nupon this spot will take from many a prince the breath of life.\" He\nforesees and forewarns, but still acts the transgressor; he prophesies\ndeath to the Suitors, but remains himself a Suitor, and so perishes in\naccord with his own prophecy.\n\nII. Ulysses, going to one side with the cowherd and swineherd\n(Philoetius and Eumaeus), whose loyalty has been so conspicuous, now\ndiscloses himself to them, and assigns their duties in the approaching\nconflict. \"I know that you alone of the servants (men) have desired my\nreturn.\" He will give them wife and property if he conquers the\nSuitors, \"and to me ye shall be as companions and brothers of\nTelemachus.\" Deserving to be adopted into the royal house of Ulysses\nthey both are, being of this little army of four against more than a\nhundred enemies. Eumaeus is to put the bow into the hands of Ulysses,\nafter the Suitors have tried the test; Philoetius is to fasten the\ngates that none escape.\n\nIII. After the Suitors have failed to bend the bow and a delay is\nproposed, Ulysses, the beggar, comes forward and asks to make the\ntrial. Violent opposition rises on part of the Suitors, but Penelope in\ntwo speeches insists that he shall try. Here again we must ascribe to\nher unconscious nature some strong affinity with the ragged man before\nher. She praises the form of the stranger and notes his noble birth,\nthough she denies the possibility of herself becoming his bride. Still\nshe shows a deep attraction for him, which she cannot suppress.\n\nTelemachus now takes the matter in hand, orders his mother out of the\nway somewhat abruptly (since the fight is soon to start), and bids the\nbow to be carried to Ulysses in face of the outcries of the Suitors.\nEurycleia, the nurse, is commanded to fasten the doors of the house;\nnow we see why Ulysses let her recognize him by the scar. Meanwhile\nPhiloetius fastens the gates of the court. Apparently there is no\nescape for the Suitors; Ulysses has the bow; he has tested its quality\nand possesses a quiver full of arrows.\n\nSuch is the famous deed of Bending the Bow, which is a symbolic act\npointing out and selecting the Hero. Ulysses is revealed by it to the\nSuitors even before he calls out his name and throws off his disguise;\nhe performs the test, he shoots through the rings without missing, he\nhas strength and skill for the emergency. If hitherto stress has been\nlaid upon his mind and cunning, now his athletic side is brought to the\nfront. But it required all his intelligence to reach the point at which\nhis will is to act.\n\nWe have now gone through what may be called the first stage of this\nfinal part of the Odyssey. The Suitors have fully shown their\ndestructive spirit, disregarding property, family, state, the Gods.\nUlysses has seen and felt in person their wrongs; their negative career\nhas reached its last deed, he has the bow in his hands and is ready for\nthe work of retribution. Such is the general sweep of the last five\nBooks; but now the destructive deeds of the Suitors are to meet with a\nstill mightier destruction.\n\n_Book Twenty-second._ The final act of justice, the Day of Judgment,\nperchance the Crack of Doom; such conceptions have long been familiar\nto man and still are; in the present Book they find one of their most\nstriking embodiments. That for which so long preparation has been made,\nis now realized: the vindication of the Ethical Order of the World.\nThere is, however, little feeling for that charity and humanity before\nnoticed; stern, inflexible, merciless justice is the mood and meaning\nof this piece of writing.\n\nThe Book has essentially two parts: the punishment of the guilty men\n(Suitors and Servants) with the sparing of the innocent, and the\npunishment of the guilty women (servants) with the sparing of the\ninnocent. Thus in both parts there is the penalty, yet also the\ndiscrimination, according to the deed.\n\nI. The first part is mainly a battle, an Homeric battle, and reminds\nthe reader of many a combat in the Iliad. Of the conflict with the\nSuitors here described we can discern three stages, which are marked\nalso by the use of different weapons, the bow, the spear, and the\nsword.\n\n(1) The first stage of the battle opens with the slaying of Antinous,\nthe ringleader of the band, who is pierced by an arrow from the bow of\nUlysses. The crowd threatens Ulysses, who now utters to them what may\nbe called their last judgment, announcing who he is, and his purpose to\npunish their crimes: \"Dogs! you thought I would not come back from\nTroy, and therefore you devoured my substance, debauched my\nmaid-servants; and wooed my wife while I was still alive. You feared\nnot the Gods, nor the vengeance of man afterwards; now destruction\nhangs over you all.\" This may be taken as a statement of the ethical\ncontent of the poem from the mouth of Ulysses himself at the critical\nmoment. The Suitors feared not the Gods, were violators of the Divine\nOrder, for which violation man was to punish them. Again the two sides,\nthe divine and human, are put together. In vain Eurymachus, a spokesman\nfor the Suitors, offers amends, guilt cannot now buy itself free when\ncaught. Ulysses answers: \"If thou shouldst offer all that thou hast and\nall that thy father has, and other gifts, I would not desist.\" So\nEurymachus, perishes by the second arrow and still another Suitor,\nAmphinomus is pierced by the spear of Telemachus. Thus three leaders\nare slain in this preliminary stage.\n\n(2) The second stage of the conflict begins by Telemachus bringing a\nshield, two spears, and a helmet for his father, whose arrows are not\nenough for the enemies. Also he brings armor for the cowherd and\nswineherd, as well as for himself; thus the four men get themselves\nfully equipped.\n\nBut in order to make a fair fight, it is necessary that the Suitors be\narmed, in part at least. Melanthius, the goatherd, finds his way to the\nchamber where the arms are deposited. Arms for twelve he brings, and\nthen goes for more, when he is caught. But now Pallas has to appear in\nthe form of Mentor, in order to put courage into the heart of Ulysses.\nThe first armed set of Suitors advance and throw their javelins without\neffect, while the four on the side of Ulysses kill four men. Four more\nSuitors are slain in a fresh onset, then two more; now their store of\nweapons is exhausted. Thirteen mentioned here by name have fallen\nbeside those unnamed ones whom the arrows of Ulysses slew. The most\nprominent Suitors are weltering in their blood, there are no more\nweapons, the result is a panic.\n\n(3) This is the third stage of the battle. A large majority of the\nSuitors, probably 80 or more out of the 108 plus 10 attendants are\nstill alive, though without weapons and completely paralyzed with\nterror. \"Pallas held from the roof her man-destroying aegis, their\nhearts trembled with fear, they fled through the palace like a drove of\ncattle.\" The four men now use their swords upon the terrified,\ndefenseless crowd, and cut them down. Leiodes, the soothsayer of the\nSuitors, begs for mercy and recounts his attempts to restrain their\nviolent deeds; vain is his prayer, he perishes with his company of\nbrigands, \"for if thou wert their soothsayer, thou must often in my\npalace have prayed the Gods against my return\" and for the Suitors.\nThus the priestly man too is involved in the net, he knew the wrong,\nyet remained the chaplain of that godless company.\n\nTwo, however, are saved, the guiltless. The bard, who \"sings for Gods\nand men\" is spared, because he sang \"by necessity for the Suitors, and\nnot for sake of gain;\" also Telemachus intercedes for the herald Medon,\nwho \"took care of me as a child,\" a beautiful gleam on this ghastly\nscene. From Ulysses, however, we hear the moral of the event\nproclaimed, which the reader may take unto himself: \"From this thou\nmayst know and tell to another how much better well-doing is than\nevil-doing.\" So speaks the slayer over these corpses, which utterance\nwe may at least regard as an attempt of the poet once more to enforce\nthe ethical purpose of his work. Not a single living Suitor or\nattendant can be found skulking anywhere, and none have escaped.\n\nII. Having completed his task in regard to the guilty men, Ulysses now\nturns his attention toward the guilty women of his household. For this\npurpose Eurycleia is called, and is brought to him; when she sees the\ndeadly work, she shouts for joy. Ulysses restrains her: \"It is an\nunholy thing to exult over the slain.\" Here again the ethical nature of\nthis act is emphasized: \"The decree of the Gods and their own evil\ndeeds overwhelmed these men; they paid respect to no human being, high\nor low, who approached them.\" Yet there are modern writers who can see\nno ethical purpose in the Odyssey.\n\nEurycleia gives her report: out of fifty serving maids in the palace,\n\"twelve have mounted the car of shamelessness.\" These latter are now\ncalled, are compelled to carry out the dead (among whom are their\nlovers), and to make clean the place of slaughter. Then they are led\nout and hung: such was the ancient fate of the prostitute in the\nhousehold.\n\nA still harsher and more ignoble punishment awaits the goatherd\nMelanthius, a cruel mutilation is inflicted upon him, horrible to the\nlast degree, but it grades his punishment according to his offense. A\nfumigation with sulphur we find here, as old as Homer. Then all the\nrest of the handmaids are summoned along with Penelope, to witness the\ndeed and to see the hero.\n\nSuch is this terrible Book in which destruction is fully meted out to\ndestroyers. According to our count 129 people are here dead, all of\nthem guilty. A doomsday spectacle for that household, and for all\nreaders and hearers since; it shows the return of the deed negatively\nupon the negative doer. But Ulysses, the hero sitting amid these\ncorpses, is simply the Destroyer, the very picture and embodiment\nthereof. Is there to be no positive result of such bloody work? Yes;\nthat is the next thing to be shown forth in the two following Books;\nUlysses is also the restorer, wherewith his career and this poem will\nterminate.\n\n_Book Twenty-third._ The essential fact of this Book is the reunion of\nhusband and wife after twenty years separation. The eternal nature of\nthe bond of the Family is thus asserted as strongly as is possible in\nthe world of Time. This is the deep institutional foundation upon which\nthe Odyssey reposes. Still the wife also has to be conquered, that is,\nshe has to be convinced that the beggar is her husband. All along we\nhave seen the struggle between her instinct and her intellect; her\nunderstanding persists in thinking that Ulysses will not come back, yet\nshe dreams of his restoration, and she feels a strange sympathy with\nthe old man in rags. Thus the two opposing elements of female nature\nhave been in a conflict with each other; her instinct tries to surge\nover her intellect, but does not succeed; she demands the complete test\nof identity and gets it in the present Book. The old nurse, her son,\nand finally Ulysses himself become impatient with her delay and her\ncircumspection, still she holds out against them all, though she has,\ntoo, her own inner emotions to combat. The gradual unfolding of this\nscene to the point of recognition must be pronounced a masterpiece of\ncharacter evolution.\n\nThe book may be divided into two portions--before and after the\nRecognition, which culminates when Penelope accepts the test of the\nsecret bed which was once made by Ulysses.\n\nI. The movement up to the Recognition shows Penelope undergoing a\ndouble pressure, from without and from within. Yet it shows too a\ncorresponding double resistance on her part. First Eurycleia goes to\nher chamber, and tells her in great glee that the Suitors are slain and\nher husband has returned. She can accept the slaughter of the Suitors,\nthat could have been done by some God, angry at their injustice; but\nshe will not believe that Ulysses is really in the palace. The nurse\ncries out: \"Truly thou hast ever had a disbelieving mind,\" and then\ntells of the scar. Still incredulous; but she goes down to the court,\nand there sees Ulysses in his rags. No sufficient proof yet, though she\nhas a strange inner struggle not to run up to him that she might clasp\nhis hands and kiss him. But her understanding conquers, she keeps at a\ndistance, scrutinizing, till Telemachus, impulsive youth, breaks out\ninto a reproach: \"Mother, thy heart is harder than a rock.\" But Ulysses\nhimself speaks to his son: \"Suffer that thy mother test me;\" she is\nlike himself, he understands her better than the son does. Finally\nUlysses takes the bath and puts on fresh garments, while Pallas gives\nhim fresh grace and majesty, and increased stature; he comes before\nPenelope again; still no yielding. Ulysses himself is now forced to\nexclaim: \"Above all women the Gods have given thee a heart\nimpenetrable.\" Thus the nurse, the son, the husband in turn have failed\nto shake her firmness, she must have an absolute test, which is \"known\nto him and me, and to us alone.\"\n\nThis is that strange bed, which Ulysses is unconsciously provoked by\nhis wife to describe. Penelope commands the nurse: \"Bring the bed out\nof the chamber which he made.\" But really it could not be removed, it\nwas constructed of the trunk of an olive tree rooted in the soil and\nits construction was the secret of himself and wife. Very strong is the\nsymbolism of this bed, and is manifestly intended by the poet. It\ntypified the firm immovable bond of marriage between the two; their\nunity could not be broken. Mark the words of Ulysses: \"Woman, thou hast\nspoken a painful word,\" when she commanded the bed to be removed; \"who\nhath displaced my bed?\" In it there was built \"a great sign\" or\nmystery; \"now I do not know if my bed be firm in position, or whether\nsome other man has moved it elsewhere, cutting the trunk of the olive\ntree up by the roots.\" Such is his intense feeling about that marriage\nbed, deeply symbolic, truly \"a sign,\" as here designated.\n\nNow this is just the test which Penelope wanted, a double test indeed,\nnot only of the head, but also of the heart. He reveals to her not\nmerely that he knows about the bed, but how strongly he feels in\nreference to it, and to what it signifies. For he might be the returned\nUlysses, and yet not be hers. But now she has yielded, she explains the\nreason of her hesitation, defends herself by the example of Helen who\nwas cozened by a stranger. She used her craft to defend the unity and\nsacredness of the Family, against Suitors and even against husband.\nAfter some talk, the servant lights them to their chamber, \"they in\ngreat joy take their customary place in their ancient bed.\"\n\nII. With the line just quoted (296 of the original) the Alexandrian\ngrammarians, Aristarchus and Aristophanes, concluded the Odyssey, and\ndeclared the rest to be a post-Homeric addition. Still, this part of\nthe poem must have been in existence and accepted as Homer's long\nbefore their time. Both Aristotle and Plato cite portions of it without\nany declared suspicion of its genuineness. What reason the old\ngrammarians had for this huge excision is not definitely known; we can\nsee, however, that they wished to end the poem with complete\nrestoration, outer and inner, of the domestic bond between husband and\nwife. Certainly a very noble thought in the poem, but by no means a\nsufficient end; beside the domestic, the political bond also must be\nrestored, and the ethical harmony be made complete both in Family and\nin State. Ulysses, moreover, has spoken of the duty laid upon him by\nTiresias in Hades: he must carry an oar till he comes to a land whose\npeople take it for a winnowing fan; there he is to plant it upright and\nmake an offering to Neptune. So there is a good deal yet to be done,\nwhich the poem has already called for.\n\nBut just now she tells him her story, quite briefly; then he tells her\nhis story, more at length. This has the nature of a confession, with\nits Circe and epecially Calypso, which she has to hear and he to make.\nThrough it all runs his yearning to reach home and wife.\n\nBut with the sun risen, new duties press upon him. First he will seek\nsome compensation for his property taken by the Suitors; secondly, he\nwill have to meet the vengeance of their relatives and friends. So the\narmy of four, himself, Telemachus, swineherd and cowherd, march forth\nin arms from the palace gate, through the city to the country.\n\n_Book Twenty-fourth._ This is another Book over which there has been\nmuch critical discussion. Its thought, whatever may be said about its\nexecution, is absolutely necessary to bring the Odyssey to an organic\nconclusion, and make the poem a well-rounded totality. There is the\npolitical trouble generally, and specially the blood feud caused by the\nslaying of the Suitors, which has to be harmonized. Repeatedly hitherto\nwe have had hints of this coming difficulty; Ulysses thought of it, and\nmade his plan concerning it before the slaughter took place. (XX. 41.)\n\nIn fact the complete restoration of Ulysses is both to Family and\nState, the two great institutions which form the substructure of the\nOdyssey. His country was quite as deeply distracted and perverted as\nhis household; both had to undergo the process of purification. In Book\nTwenty-third we had the restoration of Ulysses to Family, in Book\nTwenty-fourth we are to have essentially his restoration to State; then\nhe will truly have returned to prudent Penelope and to sunny Ithaca,\nand the poem can end. Moreover his restoration _to_ Family and State\ninvolves the restoration of Family and State; the rightful husband and\nthe rightful ruler heals the shattered institutions.\n\nBut it is undeniable that this Book is the most poorly constructed of\nany Book in the Odyssey. There is undue repetition of previous matters,\nyet certainly with important additions; there is unnecessary expansion\nin the earlier parts of the Book, and too great compression and hurry\nat the end. In general, the subject-matter of the Book is completely\nvalid and necessary to the poem, but the execution falls below the\nHomeric level, specially in its constructive feature. Still we see ino\nreason why it may not be Homer's; he too has his best and worst Books.\n\nOf the present Book there are two parts: the Underworld and the\nUpperworld.\n\nI. The Suitors have been sent down to the realm where Ulysses in the\nEleventh Book found the souls of the Trojan Heroes, Agamemnon,\nAchilles, Ajax. These three again are introduced with some others. The\ndeath of Achilles is described quite fully, when the souls of the\nSuitors arrive, and one of them, Amphimedon, recapitulates the story of\nthe Odyssey. It tells of the craft and fidelity of Penelope, and of the\nreturn of Ulysses and his destruction of the Suitors. The words of\nAgamemnon recognize the pair, Ulysses and Penelope, as the supreme\nGreek man and woman, as those who have mastered the greatest\ndifficulties of their epoch. The Trojan cycle is now complete, the\nseparation caused by the war is bridged over, both Family and State are\nrestored after the long disruption. In striking contrast was the case\nof Agamemnon and Clytaemnestra, both of whom perished without\nrestoration. Thus by means of the ghosts of the Suitors, the famous\ncareers of Ulysses and Penelope are taken up into the realm of the\nSupersensible, of ideal forms, whose fame is to last forever.\n\nThis part of the Book (the so-called second Nekyia) in which Hades\nappears the second time, has been sharply questioned both by ancient\nand modern critics on a number of grounds. These we shall not discuss,\nonly stating that they are by no means conclusive against the\ngenuineness of the whole passage. The general idea of it belongs here;\nthe dead Suitors represent the grand end of the Trojan movement, and\nits reception into the Hades of famous deeds done and past, and very\nsignificantly Agamemnon voices the praise of Ulysses and Penelope, the\ngreat winners in the long struggle. Still the repetitions of previous\nportions of the Odyssey are to our mind unnecessary and prolix, though\nthe literary skill manifested just herein has been highly lauded by\nSaint Beuve and Lang.\n\nII. Coming back to the Upperworld we find a series of incidents\nfollowing one another both slowly and hurriedly. These we shall throw\nin groups for the sake of a rapid survey.\n\n1. Ulysses with his three companions comes to the country seat of his\nfather Laertes. With him, too, he plays the same disguise as heretofore\nwith Penelope, Eumaeus and others, though its necessity is not now so\nplain. \"I shall test my father, to see if he will know me;\" how fond\nUlysses is of this! So we have more fictions, masquerading, and final\nrecognition by the scar and other proofs. Also an old servant here,\nDolius, is recognized.\n\n2. Now the scene passes to the city. The friends of the Suitors have\ncalled an assembly; a strong party rises in opposition to Ulysses,\nthough two men, Medon and Halitherses, speak on his side. The result\nis, a band under Eupeithes, father of Antinous, marches forth to wreak\nvengeance upon Ulysses.\n\n3. Hereupon a divine interference. Zeus decrees that there must be no\nblood-feud between the relatives of the slain and the House of Ulysses,\nbut a league of friendship. Revenge must no longer beget revenge.\n\n4. Still a fight occurs in which Laertes and Dolius with his six sons,\ntake part. Old Laertes is now to have his warlike meed, be kills old\nEupeithes, so that the male members of the House of Ulysses for three\ngenerations--son, grandson, grandfather--have each killed his man.\n\n5. Pallas hereupon stops the conflict, and the last lines of the poem\nannounce the peace which she makes under the form and voice of Mentor.\nSurely the work of wisdom (Pallas) as well as of supreme law (Zeus)--to\nstop the self-repeating blood-feud. Thus is the deep rent in the State\nhealed by aid of Zeus and Pallas. It should be observed that Pallas at\nthe end of the _Eumenides_ of the poet AEschylus released Orestes, who\nis pursued by the Furies, from the guilt of his mother's blood, by\ncasting the decisive ballot in the court of Areiopagus. Here we find\nanother link between Homer and AEschylus.\n\nVery hurried are these later incidents of the Book, but they are\nnecessary to complete the poem. The blood-feud is harmonized, the Gods\nagain make themselves valid in the land by introducing peace and\nharmony, which had been undermined by the Suitors. Property, Family,\nState, are restored, and the Divine Order of the World in the person of\nthe Gods is recognized. Only with this conclusion is the negative\nconduct of the Suitors completely undone, and a positive institutional\nlife becomes possible. It is true that in the hurry of coming to an\nend, the poet says nothing of the journey enjoined by Tiresias in\nHades, the journey to a distant people who would take an oar for a\nwinnowing fan. Still we may suppose that it was performed, and that\nangry Neptune, the great enemy of Ulysses among the Gods, was also\nreconciled. But, chiefly, Ulysses has above on this earth realized the\nidea of a world-justice, which we found running through all Hades, in\nthe statements of Tiresias, in the fates of the great Greek heroes, in\nthe punitory portion presided over by Minos. From this point of view\nthe Odyssey may be truly regarded an image of the working of the Spirit\nof History, and the poem holds good for all time.\n\n\n\n\n_SUMMARY._\n\n\nIn concluding these lengthy studies of the Iliad and the Odyssey, we\nshall try to grasp each of the poems as a whole, and then the two\ntogether is one great totality sprung of one people and of one\nconsciousness. The central fact out of which both poems arise, to which\nand from which both poems move, is the Trojan War. This War, whether\nmythical or historical, is certainly the most famous, and probably the\nmost significant that ever took place on the earth.\n\nAs to the Odyssey, the first thing to be seized is the complete career\nof its Hero Ulysses. This career has naturally two parts: the going to\nTroy from Ithaca, and the coming back from Troy to Ithaca. Every Greek\nhero had a similar career, wholly or in part; many, of coarse, never\nreturned. The two parts together constitute a total movement which\nbegins at a certain point and returns to the same; hence it may be\ncalled a cycle, and its two parts may be designated in a general way as\nthe Separation and the Return.\n\nThe Odyssey has as its theme the second half of the cycle, though, of\ncourse, it presupposes the first half, namely the going to Troy and the\nstay there. The poem, accordingly, does not give the entire life of\nUlysses; what may be called the Trojan half must be looked for\nelsewhere, mainly in the Iliad. Of course there are in the Odyssey many\nallusions to incidents which belong to the first half of this career.\n\nThe Ulysses of the Iliad is one of the great leaders and one of the\ngreat heroes, but he is neither the chief leader nor the chief hero.\nAlready he appears in Book First as a member of the Council, and an\nepithet is applied to him which suggests his wisdom. Thus at the start\nof the Iliad he is designated as the man of thought, of intelligence,\nof many resources. But in the Second Book he shines with full glory, he\nis indeed the pivot of the whole Book. On account of a speech made by\nAgamemnon, their leader, the Greeks start at once for home, they are\nready to give up the great enterprise of the restoration of Helen, they\nact as if they would abandon their cause. It is Ulysses who calls them\nback to themselves and restores order; he shows himself to be the only\nman in the whole army who knows what to do in a critical emergency. He\nsuppresses Thersites, he exhorts the chieftains, he uses force on the\ncommon people. He finally makes a speech to the entire body of Greeks\nin the Assembly, which recalls the great national purpose of the War,\nand is the true word for the time. Nestor follows him in a similar\nvein, and the Greek host again takes its place in line of battle and\nprepares for the onset upon Troy. Here we have a typical action of\nUlysses, showing his essential character, and revealing the germ out of\nwhich the Odyssey may well have sprouted.\n\nOther matters may also be noticed. Pallas, the Goddess of Wisdom,\nappears to him in the midst of the tumult, and gives him her\nsuggestion. She will remain with him ever afterwards, manifesting\nherself to him in like emergencies till the end of the Odyssey.\nTelemachus is mentioned in this Book of the Iliad. The distinction\nbetween Ulysses and the aged Nestor is drawn: the latter has\nappreciative wisdom, that of experience, while Ulysses has creative\nwisdom, that of immediate divine insight, coming directly from Pallas.\nThis distinction also will show itself in the Odyssey. Ulysses is the\nreal hero of the Second Book of the Iliad; he appears in other Books\nwith the same general character, but never so prominently again.\n\nIn the Post-Iliad, or that portion of the Trojan war which lies between\nthe Iliad and Odyssey, Ulysses will become the chief hero. After the\ndeath of Achilles, there will be a contest for the latter's arms\nbetween him and Ajax; Ulysses wins. That is, Brain not Brawn is to\ncontrol henceforth. Under the lead of Intelligence, which is that of\nUlysses, Troy falls.\n\nThe Odyssey, then, deals with the return of Ulysses from the Trojan\nWar, and lasts ten years, as the account runs. But the poet is not\nwriting a history, not even a biography, in the ordinary sense; he does\nnot follow step by step the hero's wanderings, or state the events in\nchronological order; we shall see how the poem turns back upon itself\nand begins only some forty days before its close. Still the Odyssey\nwill give not merely the entire return from Troy, but will suggest the\nwhole cycle of its hero's development.\n\nThe first half of the cycle, the going to Troy and the stay there,\nlasted ten years, though some accounts have made it longer. The Iliad,\nthough its action is compressed to a few days, treats generally of the\nfirst half of the cycle and hence it is the grand presupposition of the\nOdyssey, which takes it for granted everywhere. The Iliad, however, is\na unity and has its own center of action, which is the wrath of\nAchilles and his reconciliation also; it is in itself a complete cycle\nof individual experience in the Trojan War.\n\nWe now begin to get an outline of the Unity of Homer. In the first\nplace the Iliad is a unity from the stand-point of its hero Achilles,\nwho has a completely rounded period of his life portrayed therein,\nwhich portrayal, however, gives also a vivid picture of the Trojan War\nup to date. As an individual experience it is a whole, and this is what\nmakes it a poem and gives to it special unity. But it is only a\nfragment of the Trojan cycle--a half or less than a half; it leaves\nimportant problems unsolved: Troy is not taken, Achilles is still\nalive, the new order under the new hero Ulysses has not yet set in, and\nchiefly there is no return to Greece, which is even more difficult than\nthe taking of Troy. Hence the field of the second poem, the Odyssey,\nwhich is also an individual experience--has to be so in order to be a\npoem--embraces the rest of the Trojan cycle after the Iliad.\n\nThus we may well hold to these unities in Homer: the unity of the\nIliad, the unity of the Odyssey, and the unity of the Iliad and the\nOdyssey. Both together make one grand cycle of human history and of\nhuman consciousness; they portray a complete world in its deed and in\nits thought, as well as in manners and institutions.\n\nHere is, then, the highest point of view from which to look at these\npoems: they are really one in two parts, written by one epoch, by one\nconsciousness, and probably by one man. The Iliad as a poem is a\ncomplete cycle of individual experience, but as an epoch is only half a\ncycle. In like manner the Odyssey as a poem is a complete cycle of\nindividual experience, but as an epoch is the second half of the cycle\nof which the Iliad is essentially the first. Both together constitute\nthe one great movement usually called the Trojan War.\n\nMuch time has been spent in discussing the question whether the Trojan\nWar was historical or mythical. We make bold to affirm that it was\nboth--both historical and mythical. It began long before the dawn of\nhistory and it exists to this day. For the Trojan War is the conflict\nbetween Orient and Occident, starting in the twilight of time, and not\nyet concluded by any means. The conflict between Orient and Occident\nruns through all Greek Mythology, is indeed just the deepest,\ntone-giving element thereof. It also runs through all Greek history\nfrom the Persian War to the conquests of Alexander, and lurks still in\nthe present struggle between Greek and Turk. The true Mythus gives in\nan image or event the events of all time; it is an ideal symbol which\nis realized in history.\n\nWe have above said that the Trojan War was a complete cycle, of which\nthe two poems portray the two halves. Still further can the matter be\ncarried. The Trojan cycle, complete in itself as a phase of Greek\nconsciousness, is but a fragment, a half of a still larger cycle of\nhuman development. The Iliad and the Odyssey give the Greek half of the\ngrand world-movement of the Trojan epoch; there is also an Oriental\nhalf which these poems presuppose and from which they separate. Thus\nthe grand Homeric cycle, while a unit in itself, is really a separation\nfrom the East, a separation which rendered the Occident possible; the\nwoes before Troy were the birth-pangs of the new-born child, Europe,\nnow also grown a little old.\n\nThe reader naturally asks, will there be any return to the Orient after\nthe grand Greek separation, first heralded on the plains of Ilium? It\nmay be answered that Europe has often returned to the East in the\ncourse of history--Alexander, Rome, the Crusades; at present, western\nEurope seems bent on getting to the far East. But the true return of\nthe Occident to the Orient will be round the globe, by way of America,\nand that will be complete. The recent war between Japan and China is\nreally a stage of the great new epoch in the world-historical return to\nthe Orient.\n\nSuch is the more external, the historical phase of the Iliad and\nOdyssey. But they have also a deep internal ethical phase, they show\ntwo sides of one grand process of the human soul which has been called\nself-alienation, the sacrifice of the immediate self in order to gain\ntrue self-hood. The Greeks had to immolate their dearest ties, those of\nhome and country, in order to preserve home and country, which had been\nassailed to the very heart by the rape of Helen. They had to educate\nthemselves to a life of violence, killing men, women, even children,\ndestroying home and country. For Troy also has Family and State, though\nit be a complete contradiction of Family and State by supporting Paris.\nBut when the Greeks had taken Troy, they were trained destroyers of\nhome and country, they were destruction organized and victorious, yet\ntheir whole purpose was to save home and country. Thus their\nself-alienation has deepened into absolute self-contradiction, the\ncomplete scission of the soul.\n\nNow this is the spiritual condition of which they are to get rid, out\nof which they are to return to home and country. As before said it may\nbe deemed a harder problem than the taking of Troy, which was simply a\nnegative act, the destroying the destroyers of home and country. But\nthe great positive act of the Trojan heroes is the restoration, not\nmerely the outer but the inner restoration, to home and country.\n\nWith these considerations before the mind of the reader, he is now\nready to grasp the full sweep of the Odyssey and understand its\nconflict. It springs from the separation caused by a war, here the\nTrojan War. The man is removed from his institutional life and thrown\ninto a world of violence and destruction. Let us summarize the leading\npoints of the process.\n\nI. The absence of Ulysses leaves his family without a head, his country\nwithout a ruler, and his property without an owner. All these relations\nbegin to loosen and go to pieces; destructive forces assail the\ndecaying organism; the Suitors appear, who consume his property, woo\nhis queen, and seek to usurp his kingly authority. Such are the\ndissolving energies at work in Ithaca. Also his son Telemachus is left\nwithout paternal training.\n\nII. Next let us glance at the individual. Ulysses, released from\ndomestic life and civil order, gives himself up to destroying domestic\nlife and civil order, though they be those of the enemy. For ten years\nhe pays no respect to Property, Family and State in Troy; he is trained\ninto their annihilation, and finally does annihilate them. Yet his\nobject is to restore Helen, to vindicate Family and State, and even\nProperty.\n\nIII. Troy is destroyed because it was itself destructive; it assailed\nthe Greek domestic and civil institutions in the rape of Helen. So the\ndestroying city itself is destroyed, but this leaves Ulysses a\ndestroyer in deed and in spirit; home and country he is not only\nseparated from but is destructive of--he is a negative man.\n\nThe previous three paragraphs contain the leading presuppositions of\nthe Odyssey, and show the first half of the life of Ulysses. They\nindicate three phases of the working of the negative--in Ithaca, in\nTroy, and in Ulysses. But now that Troy is destroyed, how will Ulysses\nreturn to institutional life, which he has destroyed in Troy, in\nhimself, and, through his absence, in Ithaca?\n\nIV. The Return must in the first place be within himself, he must get\nrid of the destructive spirit begotten of war. For this purpose he has\nthe grand training told in his adventures; he must put down the\nmonsters of Fableland, Polyphemus, Circe, Charybdis; he must endure the\nlong servitude under Calypso; he must see Phaeacia. When he is\ninternally ready, he can go forth and destroy the Suitors, destroy them\nwithout becoming destructive himself, which was his outcome at Troy.\nFor the destruction of Troy left him quite as negative as the Suitors,\nof which condition he is to rid himself ere he can rid Ithaca of the\nSuitors. This destruction thus becomes a great positive act, now he\nrestores Family and State, and brings peace and harmony.\n\nOne result of separating from the Family is that the son Telemachus has\nnot the training given by the father. But the son shows his blood; he\ngoes forth and gets his own training, the best of the time. This is\ntold in the Telemachiad. Thus he can co-operate with his father.\n\n_The movement overarching the Odyssey._ The reader will note that in\nthe preceding account we have tried to unfold the movement of the\nOdyssey as the return from the Trojan War. But as already stated, it is\nitself but a part of a larger movement, a segment of a great cycle,\nwhich cycle again suggests a still greater cycle, which last is the\nmovement of the World's History. Recall, then, that the Odyssey by\nitself is a complete cycle as far as the experience of its hero is\nconcerned; but as belonging to an epoch, it is but half of the total\ncycle of the Trojan War. Then again this Trojan War is but a fragment\nof a movement which is the total World's History. Now can this be set\nforth in a summary which will suggest the movement not of the Odyssey\nalone, but also the movement underlying and overlying the poem? Let us\nmake the trial, for a world-poem must take its place in the World's\nHistory, which fact gives the final judgment of its worth.\n\nI. In the prehistoric time before Homer, there was an Orient, but no\nOccident; the spiritual day of the latter had not yet dawned. Very\nearly began the movement toward separation, which had one of its\ngreatest epochs in the Trojan War.\n\n1. Greece in those old ages was full of the throes of birth, but was\nnot yet born. It was still essentially Oriental, it had no independent\ndevelopment of its own, though it was moving toward independence. The\nearliest objects dug out of the long buried cities of Greece show an\nOriental connection; the famous sculptured lions over the gate of\nMycenae last to this day as a reminder of the early Hellenic connection\nof European Greece with the Orient, not to speak of Cyprus, Crete, and\nthe lesser islands of the AEgean.\n\n2. Then came the great separation of Greece from the Orient, which is\nthe fundamental fact of the Trojan War, and of which the Homeric poems\nare the mighty announcement to the future. Troy, an Orientalizing\nHellenic city in Asia, seizes and keeps Greek Helen, who is of Europe;\nit tears her away from home and country, and through its deed destroys\nFamily and State. Greek Europe restores her, must restore her, if its\npeople be true to their institutional principles; hence their great\nword is restoration, first of their ideal Helen, and secondly of\nthemselves.\n\nSo all the Greeks, in order to make the separation from the Orient and\nrestore Helen, have to march forth to war and thus be separated\nthemselves from home and country, till they bring back Helen to home\nand country. The deed done to Helen strikes every Greek man till he\nundoes it. The stages of this movement may be set down separately.\n\n    (_a_) The leaving home for Troy--Achilles, Agamemnon, Ulysses; all\n    the heroes had their special story of departure. Ulysses had to\n    quit a young wife, Penelope, and an infant son, Telemachus. For if\n    Helen can be abducted, no Greek family is safe.\n\n    (_b_) Stay at Troy for 10 years. This is also a long training to\n    destruction. Ulysses is an important man, but not the hero. Here\n    lies the sphere of the Iliad.\n\n    (_c_) Destruction of the city and the restoration of Helen to her\n    husband, both of which are not told in the Iliad but are given\n    subordinately in the Odyssey. Thus is the separation from the\n    Orient completed on its negative side, that is, as far as\n    destruction can complete it.\n\n3. The return to Greece of the survivors. The question is, How can they\ntruly get back after so long a period of violence? The Odyssey has this\nas its theme, and will give an account of all the returns. Here, too,\nwe observe various stages.\n\n    (_a_) Leaving Troy for home. This means a complete facing about and\n    a going the other way, not only in geography, but also in conduct.\n    The Greeks must now quit destruction and become constructive.\n\n    (_b_) It is no wonder that the journey home was very difficult.\n    Quarrels arose at the start (see Nestor's account Book III., and\n    that of Menelaus Book IV.). Many perished on the way; some were\n    lost in a storm at sea, Agamemnon was slain on the threshold of his\n    own palace.\n\n    (_c_) Those who reached home, the successful returners, were of\n    three main kinds, represented by Nestor, by Menelaus, and by\n    Ulysses. These were restored to home and family, and brought peace\n    and harmony. Such is the positive outcome of the Trojan War, and\n    the completion of its cycle.\n\nII. But this rounding-off of the Trojan cycle is, on the other hand, a\nfinal separation from the Orient; the scission is now unfolded,\nexplicit, quite conscious. When Ulysses comes back to Ithaca, and\nre-establishes Family and State, Greek life is independent, distinct,\nself-determined. The Hellenic world rises and fulfills its destiny in\nits own way; it creates the Fine Arts, Literature, Science; it is the\nbeginning of the Occident.\n\nStill the thought must come up that the Orient is also a part of the\ngrand movement of the World's History, whose cycle embraces both\nOccident and Orient. The Odyssey has many glimpses of this higher view.\nThe first 12 books move westward and have their outlook in that\ndirection, the last 12 books have their outlook eastward toward Egypt,\nPhoenicia, and the Oriental borderland. The earlier fairy tales of\nUlysses have their scene in the West, while the later romances or\nnovelettes interwoven in the last 12 Books have their scene in the\nEast, with one exception possibly.\n\nThe main fact, however, of the Trojan cycle is the great separation,\ndeepest in history, between Orient and Occident, through the\ninstrumentality of Greece. The civilization of Europe and the West is\nthe offspring of that separation, which is still going on, is a living\nfact, and is the source of the vexed Eastern question of European\npolitics.\n\nIII. We are living to-day in that separation; our art, science,\neducation, poetic forms, our secular life largely come from ancient\nGreece. Oriental art, customs, domestic life, government, we do not as\na rule fraternize with; the Greek diremption is in us still; only in\none way, in our religious life, do we keep a connection with an\nOriental people. But is this separation never to be overcome? Is there\nto be no return to the East and completion of the world's cycle?\n\n_The Cycle._ We have often used this word, and some may think that we\nhave abused it; still our object is to restore the Greek conception of\nthese poems, as they were looked at and spoken of by Hellas herself.\nThe idea of the cycle was fundamental in grasping the epics which\nrelated to the Trojan War, and this War itself was regarded as a cycle\nof events and deeds, which the poets sang and put into their poetic\ncycle. Let us briefly trace this thought of the cycle as developed in\nold Greece.\n\nI. In two different passages of his _Organon_, Aristotle calls the epic\na cycle and the poetry of Homer a cycle. Now both passages are employed\nby him to illustrate a defective syllogism, hence are purely\nincidental. But no instance could better show the prevalence of the\nidea of a cycle as applied to Homer and epic poetry, for the\nphilosopher evidently draws his illustration from something familiar to\neverybody. It had become a Greek common-place 350 B.C., and probably\nlong before, that an epic poem, such as the Iliad or Odyssey, is\ncyclical, and that both together make a cycle.\n\nII. But this idea develops, and expands beyond the Iliad and Odyssey,\nwhich are found to leave out many events of the Trojan Cycle. Indeed\nthe myth-making spirit of Greece unfolds new incidents, deeds, and\ncharacters. The result is that many poets, after Homer had completed\nhis cycle, began filling the old gaps, or really making new ones that\nthese might be filled by a fresh poem. Hence arose the famous Epic\nCycle, which has been preserved in a kind of summary supposed to have\nbeen written by Proclus, not the philosopher, but a grammarian of the\ntime of the Emperor Marcus Aurelius.\n\nMeantime, let us carefully distinguish some of our Cycles. The Trojan\nCycle is one of events and deeds, in general is the going to and the\nreturning from Troy. The Homeric Cycle is Homer's account, in his two\npoems, of this Trojan Cycle. Finally the Epic Cycle is the expansion of\nHomer and includes a number of Epics, which fill out to ultimate\ncompleteness the Trojan Cycle. The latter, according to Proclus, is\nmade up of six Epics beside the Iliad and Odyssey, to which they stand\nin the following relations.\n\n1. The _Cypria_, which deals with events antecedent to the Iliad, such\nas the apple of Discord, the visit of Paris at Sparta and the taking of\nHelen, the mustering at Aulis, the sacrifice of Iphigeneia, and many\nincidents at Troy. Ulysses, to avoid going to the war, feigns madness\n(his first disguise) and ploughs the sea-sand; but he is detected by\nPalamedes who lays his infant Telemachus in the track of the plough.\nThe name _Cypria_ comes from Kypris, Venus, who caused the infatuation\nwhich led to the war.\n\n2. Four different epics fill in between the Iliad and the Odyssey. The\n_AEthiopis_ takes up the thread after the death of Hector, introducing\nPenthesilea, Queen of the Amazons, and Memnon, son of the Dawn, both of\nwhom are slain by Achilles who is himself slain and is buried with\nfuneral games. After the death of Achilles, the _Little Iliad_\ncontinues the story, installing Ulysses as hero over Ajax in the\ncontest for the arms of Achilles. This is the grand transition from\nBrawn to Brain in the conduct of the war. The Wooden Horse is made, and\nthe Palladium is carried out of Troy--both deeds being the product of\nthe brain, if not of the hand, of Ulysses. Next comes the _Sack of\nTroy_, whose name indicates its character. Laocoon and Sinon appear in\nit, but the main thing is the grand slaughter (like that of the\nSuitors) and the dragging of women and children into captivity; the\ncity is burned. Then follows the epic called the _Nostoi_ or the\nReturns, really an elaboration of the Odyssey, specially of the Third\nBook, which tells of these antecedent Returns. Then comes the great\nReturn, which is the Odyssey.\n\n3. After the Odyssey follows the _Telegonia_ written by Eugammon of\nCyrene in two Books. It continues the life of Ulysses; he now goes to\nthat people who take an oar for winnowing fan, and there he makes the\noffering to Neptune, enjoined by Tiresias in Hades. Other incidents are\nnarrated; the final winding-up is that Ulysses is unwittingly slain by\nTelegonus, his and Circe's son, who appears in Ithaca and takes\nTelemachus and Penelope to Circe, who makes them immortal. The grand\nEpic Cycle concludes with the strangest set of marriages on record:\nTelegonus marries Penelope, his step-mother, and Telemachus marries\nCirce who is also a kind of step-mother.\n\nIII. After such a literary bankruptcy, it is no wonder that we find the\nlater Greek and Roman writers using the words _cyclic_ and _cyclic\npoet_ as terms of disparagement. The great Mythus of Troy had run its\ncourse and exhausted itself; the age of imitation, formalism, erudition\nhad come, while that of creation had passed away. Still it has\npreserved for us the idea of the cycle, which is necessary for the\nadequate comprehension of Homer, and which the Greeks themselves\nconceived and employed.\n\n_Structure of the Odyssey._ A brief summary of the structural elements\nof the poem may now be set forth. It falls into two grand divisions,\nboth of which are planned by Pallas in Book I and XIII respectively. In\nthe main these divisions are the following:--\n\n    I. The first takes up about one-half of the Odyssey--twelve Books,\n    which have as their chief object instruction and discipline--the\n    training for the deed. This training has two very distinct\n    portions, as it pertains to a young man and a middle-aged\n    man--Telemachiad and Ulyssiad.\n\n       1. The Telemachiad, or the education of Telemachus, who has been\n       left without the influence of his father, when the latter went\n       to Troy. But he has his father's spirit, hence he must know;\n       from Ithaca he goes to Nestor and Menelaus for instruction. Four\n       Books.\n\n       2. The Ulyssiad, or the discipline of Ulysses, who must have\n       been a man over 40 years old. He is to be trained out of the\n       negative spirit which he imbibed from the Trojan war. Herein\n       lies his analogy to Faust, who is also a middle-aged man, and\n       negative, but from study and thought.\n\nBoth the Telemachiad and the Ulyssiad are essentially one great\nmovement in two phases, showing the bud and the flower, the young and\nthe mature man. Father and son reveal an overcoming of limitation;\nTelemachus overcomes his limit of ignorance, Ulysses overcomes his\nlimit of negation--the one by the instruction of the wise, the other by\nthe experience of life. Both are trained to a belief in an ethical\norder which rules the world; therein both are made internally ready for\nthe great act of delivering their country. The training of both reaches\nforward to a supreme practical end--the destruction of the Suitors and\nthe purification of Ithaca. (For the further structure of these two\nparts--the Telemachiad and the Ulyssiad--see preceding commentary under\nthese titles.)\n\nII. The second grand division of the Odyssey is the last twelve Books.\nThe scene is laid in Ithaca, where the great deed, to which the poem\nhitherto has looked forward, is to be done. The wanderings of the\nfather have ceased, the son returns from his schooling; every movement\nis now directed toward action. Again Pallas (XIII. 393-415) plans two\nsubdivisions, without the Council of the Gods however.\n\n1. The hut of the swineherd. Here the forces hostile to the Suitors\ngather in secret and lay their plan. Ulysses, Telemachus, Eumaeus, the\ngallant army of three, get ready for the execution of the deed. Four\nBooks.\n\n2. The palace of the King. Ulysses in disguise beholds the Suitors in\ntheir negative acts; they are as bad as the Trojans, assailing\nProperty, Family, State, the Gods; they are really in their way\nre-enacting the rape of Helen. Ulysses, as he destroyed Troy, must\ndestroy them, yet not become merely destructive himself. Eight Books,\nin which we can discern the following movement: (1) Suitors as\ndestroyers--five Books; (2) Ulysses as destroyer--one Book; (3) Ulysses\nas restorer--two Books. Thus the outcome is positive..\n\nThe career of Ulysses is now complete, and with it the Homeric Cycle\nhas rounded itself out to fullness. The Epic Cycle in the _Telegonia_\nwill expand this conclusion, but will deeply mar its idea.\n\nNote that the structure of the two grand divisions of the Odyssey are\nsymmetrical, each a half of the poem; then each half subdivides into\ntwo parts, and each of those parts is symmetrical, being composed of\nfour and eight Books each. To be sure, the joint is not so plain in the\nsecond division as in the first, which has the Telemachiad and the\nUlyssiad. Pallas is the orderer of both divisions, and she orders them\nin a symmetrical manner.\n\nFor both divisions the grand horizon is the Trojan War, yet both reach\nbeyond it, the one toward the West, the other toward the East. The one\nweaves into its regular narrative the Fairy Tale, the other takes up\ninto its text what we have called the Romantic Novelette. The former\nlooks toward the West and the Future, the latter looks back at the East\nand the Past. Hence the Fairy Tale is prophetic and has supernatural\nbeings, the Novelette is retrospective, giving the experiences of life\nwithout supernatural agencies. In scenery also the contrast is great:\nthe one is largely a sea poem, the other is a land poem.\n\n_Structural analogy between Iliad and Odyssey._ We have before said,\nand we may repeat here at the end, that the final fruit of Homeric\nstudy is to see and to fully realize that the Iliad and Odyssey are one\nwork, showing national consciousness, and unfolding one great epoch of\nthe World's History. Just here we may note the fundamental analogies of\nstructure between the two poems.\n\nI. Both poems have the dual division, separating into two symmetrical\nportions. The Iliad has two Wraths of Achilles, and also two\nReconciliations; thus each division is subdivided:\n\n1. His first attitude or cycle of conduct toward the Greeks.\n\n    (_a_) His wrath--both rightful and wrongful.\n\n    (_b_) His reconciliation with Agamemnon and his own people.\n\n2. His second attitude, or cycle of conduct toward the Trojans.\n\n    (_a_) His wrath--both rightful and wrongful.\n\n    (_b_) His reconciliation with Priam and the Trojans.\n\nSuch is the general organism of the Iliad which is seen to be perfectly\nsymmetrical within itself. (For a fuller account see author's\nCommentary on the Iliad, pp. 36-8.) Note that the negative attitude of\nAchilles is that of wrath; in his anger he will destroy his people and\nhis cause, and finally, in the dragging of Hector's corpse, he\ndisregards the Gods. Yet be overcomes both these negative attitudes in\nhimself and becomes reconciled.\n\nII. The Odyssey has two phases of Negation, both of which the heroes\n(father and son) must overcome.\n\n1. The negative spirit caused by the Trojan War and its overcoming.\n\n    (_a_) The ignorance of the son and its overcoming.\n\n    (_b_) The destructive tendency of the father and its overcoming.\n\n2. The negative spirit abroad in Ithaca (Suitors) and its overcoming.\n\n    (_a_) The hut of the swineherd (preparation).\n\n    (_b_) The palace of the King (execution).\n\nThat is, Ulysses and Telemachus have the double problem, which\norganizes the Odyssey: they must conquer their own internal negation,\nthen proceed to conquer that of the Suitors. Both poems divide alike;\nboth have the same fundamental thought: the individual as hero is to\nmaster his own negative spirit and that of the world, and then be\nreconciled with himself and the world. The Iliad has essentially but\none thread of movement, that of Achilles; the Odyssey has two such\nthreads, if not three--father, son, and perchance wife, making the\ntotal Family as the unit of movement.\n\nThus the Iliad and Odyssey are one poem fundamentally, showing unity in\nthought and structure, and portraying one complete cycle of national\nconsciousness, as well as one great phase of the World's History.\n\n\n                     *      *      *      *      *\n\n\nBOOKS BY DENTON J. SNIDER\n\nPUBLISHED BY\n\nSIGMA PUBLISHING COMPANY\n\n210 Pine Street, St. Louis, Mo.\n\n\n  I. Commentary on the Literary Bibles, in 9 vols.\n        1. Shakespeare's Dramas, 3 vols.\n            Tragedies (new edition)                         $1.50\n            Comedies (new edition)                           1.50\n            Histories (new edition)                          1.50\n        2. Goethe's Faust.\n            First Part (new edition)                         1.50\n            Second Part (new edition)                        1.50\n        3. Homer's Iliad (new edition)                       1.50\n           Homer's Odyssey                                   1.50\n        4. Dante's Inferno                                   1.50\n           Dante's Purgatory and Paradise                    1.50\n\n II. Psychology, System of, in 16 vols.\n        1. Organic Psychology.\n            1. Intellect                                     1.50\n            2. Will                                          1.50\n            3. Feeling                                       1.50\n        2. Psychology of Philosophy.\n            1. Ancient European Philosophy                   1.50\n            2. Modern European Philosophy                    1.50\n        3. Psychology of Nature.\n            1. Cosmos and Diacosmos                          1.50\n            2. Biocosmos                                     1.50\n        4. Psychology of Art.\n            1. Architecture                                  1.50\n            2. Music and Fine Arts                           1.50\n        5. Psychology of Institutions.\n            1. Social Institutions                           1.50\n            2. The State                                     1.50\n        6. Psychology of History.\n            1. European History                              1.50\n            2. The Father of History                         1.50\n            3. The American Ten Years' War                   1.50\n        7. Psychology of Biography.\n            1. Abraham Lincoln                               1.50\n            2. Frederick Froebel                             1.25\n\nIII. Poems in 5 vols.\n        1. Homer in Chios                                    1.00\n        2. Delphie Days                                      1.00\n        3. Agamemnon's Daughter                              1.00\n        4. Prorsus Retrorsus                                 1.00\n        5. Johnny Appleseed's Rhymes                         1.25\n\n IV. The Lincoln Tetralogy An Epos.\n        1. Lincoln In the Black Hawk War                     1.50\n        2. Lincoln and Ann Rutledge                          1.50\n        3. Lincoln in the White House                        1.50\n        4. Lincoln at Richmond                               1.50\n\n  V. Kindergarten.\n        1. Commentary on Froebel's Mother Play-Songs         1.25\n        2. The Psychology of Froebel's Play-Gifts            1.25\n        3. The Life of Frederick Froebel                     1.25\n\n VI. Miscellaneous.\n        1. A Walk in Hellas                                  1.25\n        2. The Freeburgers (a novel)                         1.25\n        3. World's Fair Studies                              1.25\n        4. A Tour in Europe                                  1.50\n        5. A Writer of Books in His Genesis                  1.50\n\nFor sale by A. G. McCLURG & CO., Chicago, Ill.","title":"Homer's Odyssey: A Commentary","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":122879}