The Land of
the Phaeacians
Ulysses clung to the raft so long as its timbers
held together, and when it no longer yielded him
support, binding the girdle around him, he swam.
Minerva smoothed the billows before him and sent
him a wind that rolled the waves towards the
shore. The surf beat high on the rocks and seemed
to forbid approach; but at length finding calm
water at the mouth of a gentle stream, he landed,
spent with toil, breathless and speechless and
almost dead. Reviving after some time, he kissed
the soil, rejoicing, yet at a loss what course to
take. At a short distance he perceived a wood, to
which he turned his steps. There finding a covert
sheltered by intermingling branches alike from the
sun and the rain, he collected a pile of leaves
and formed a bed, on which he stretched himself,
and heaping the leaves over him, fell asleep.
The land where he was thrown was Scheria, the
country of the Phaeacians. These people dwelt
originally near the Cyclopes; but, being oppressed
by that savage race, they migrated to the isle of
Scheria under the conduct of Nausithous, their
king. They were, the poet tells us, a people akin
to the gods, who appeared manifestly and feasted
among them when they offered sacrifices, and did
not conceal themselves from solitary wayfarers
when they met them. They had abundance of wealth
and lived in the enjoyment of it undisturbed by
the alarms of war; for as they dwelt remote from
gain-seeking man, no enemy ever approached their
shores, and they did not even require to make use
of bows and quivers. Their chief employment was
navigation. Their ships, which went with the
velocity of birds, were endued with intelligence;
they knew every port and needed no pilot. Alcinous,
the son of Nausithous, was now their king, a wise
and just sovereign, beloved by his people.
Now it happened that the very night on which
Ulysses was cast ashore on the Phaeacian island,
and while he lay sleeping on his bed of leaves,
Nausicaa, the daughter of the king, had a dream
sent by Minerva, reminding her that her wedding
day might not be far distant, and that it would be
but a prudent preparation for that event to have a
general washing of the clothes of the family.
This was no slight affair, for the fountains
were at some distance and the garments must be
carried thither. On awaking, the princess hastened
to her parents to tell them what was on her
mind,--not alluding to her wedding day, but
finding other reasons equally good. Her father
readily assented and ordered the grooms to furnish
forth a wagon for the purpose. The clothes were
put therein, and the queen, her mother, placed in
the wagon likewise an abundant supply of food and
wine. The princess took her seat and plied the
lash, her attendant virgins following her on foot.
Arrived at the riverside they turned out the mules
to graze, and unlading the carriage, bore the
garments down to the water, and, working with
cheerfulness and alacrity, soon dispatched their
labor. Then having spread the garments on the
shore to dry, and having themselves bathed, they
sat down to enjoy their meal; after which they
rose and amused themselves with a game of ball,
the princess singing to them while they played.
But when they had refolded the apparel and were
about to resume their way to the town, Minerva
caused the ball thrown by the princess to fall
into the water, whereat they all screamed, and
Ulysses awaked at the sound.
Utterly destitute of clothing, he discovered
that only a few bushes were interposed between him
and a group of young maidens, whom, by their
deportment and attire, he discovered to be not
mere peasant girls, but of a higher class.
Breaking off a leafy branch from a tree, he held
it before him and stepped out from the thicket.
The virgins at sight of him fled in all
directions, Nausicaa alone excepted, for her
Minerva aided and endowed with courage and
discernment. Ulysses, standing respectfully aloof,
told his sad case, and besought the fair object
(whether queen or goddess he professed he knew
not) for food and clothing. The princess replied
courteously, promising present relief and her
father's hospitality when he should become
acquainted with the facts. She called back her
scattered maidens, chiding their alarm and
reminding them that the Phaeacians had no enemies
to fear. This man, she told them, was an unhappy
wanderer, whom it was a duty to cherish, for the
poor and the stranger are from Jove. She bade them
bring food, and the garments of some of her
brothers that were among the contents of the
wagon. When this was done, and Ulysses retiring to
a sheltered place had washed his body free from
the seafoam, and clothed himself, and eaten,
Pallas dilated his form and diffused grace over
his ample chest and manly brows.
The princess, seeing him, was filled with
admiration and scrupled not to say to her damsels
that she wished the gods would send her such a
husband. To Ulysses she recommended that he repair
to the city, following herself and her train so
far as the way lay through the fields; but when
they should approach the city, she desired that he
no longer be seen in her company, for she feared
the remarks which rude and vulgar people might
make on seeing her return accompanied by such a
gallant stranger. To avoid this she directed him
to stop at a grove adjoining the city, in which
were a farm and garden belonging to the king.
After allowing time for the princess and her
companions to reach the city, he was then to
pursue his way thither, and should be easily
guided by any he might meet to the royal abode.
Ulysses obeyed the directions and in due time
proceeded to the city, on approaching which he met
a young woman bearing forth a pitcher for water.
It was Minerva who had assumed that form. Ulysses
accosted her and desired to be directed to the
palace of Alcinous, the king. The maiden replied
respectfully, offering to be his guide; for the
palace, she informed him, stood near her father's
dwelling. Under the guidance of the goddess and,
by her power, enveloped in a cloud which shielded
him from observation, Ulysses passed among the
busy crowd and with wonder observed their harbor,
their ships, their forum (the resort of heroes),
and their battlements, till they came to the
palace, where the goddess, having first given him
some information of the country, king, and people
he was about to meet, left him. Ulysses, before
entering the courtyard of the palace, stood and
surveyed the scene. Its splendor astonished him.
Brazen walls stretched from the entrance to the
interior house, of which the doors were gold, the
doorposts silver, the lintels silver ornamented
with gold. On either side were figures of mastiffs
wrought in gold and silver, standing in rows as if
to guard the approach. Along the walls were seats
spread through all their length with mantles of
finest texture, the work of Phaeacian maidens. On
these seats the princes sat and feasted, while
golden statues of graceful youths held in their
hands lighted torches which shed radiance over the
scene.
Ulysses stood gazing in admiration, unobserved
himself, for the cloud which Minerva spread around
him still shielded him. At length having
sufficiently observed the scene, he advanced with
rapid step into the hall where the chiefs and
senators were assembled, pouring libation to
Mercury, whose worship followed the evening meal.
Just then Minerva dissolved the cloud and
disclosed him to the assembled chiefs. Advancing
to the place where the queen sat, he knelt at her
feet and implored her favor and assistance to
enable him to return to his native country. Then
withdrawing, he seated himself in the manner of
suppliants, at the hearth-side.
For a time none spoke. At last an aged
statesman, addressing the king, said, "It is
not fit that a stranger who asks our hospitality
should be kept waiting in suppliant guise, none
welcoming him. Let him, therefore, be led to a
seat among us and supplied with food and
wine." At these words the king, rising, gave
his hand to Ulysses and led him to a seat,
displacing thence his own son to make room for the
stranger. Food and wine were set before him and he
ate and refreshed himself.
The king then dismissed his guests, notifying
them that the next day he would call them to
council to consider what had best be done for the
stranger.
When the guests had departed and Ulysses was
left alone with the king and queen, the queen
asked him who he was and whence he came, and
(recognizing the clothes which he wore as those
which her maidens and herself had made) from whom
he received those garments. He told them of his
residence in Calypso's isle and his departure
thence; of the wreck of his raft, his escape by
swimming, and of the relief afforded by the
princess. The parents heard approvingly, and the
king promised to furnish a ship in which his guest
might return to his own land.
The next day the assembled chiefs confirmed the
promise of the king. A bark was prepared and a
crew of stout rowers selected, and all betook
themselves to the palace, where a bounteous repast
was provided. After the feast the king proposed
that the young men should show their guest their
proficiency in manly sports, and all went forth to
the arena for games of running, wrestling, and
other exercises. After all had done their best,
Ulysses being challenged to show what he could do,
at first declined, but being taunted by one of the
youths, seized a quoit of weight far heavier than
any the Phaeacians had thrown, and sent it farther
than the utmost throw of theirs. All were
astonished and viewed their guest with greatly
increased respect.
After the games they returned to the hall, and
the herald led in Demodocus, the blind bard,--
Dear to the Muse,
Who yet appointed him both good and ill,
Took from him sight, but gave him strains divine.
He took for his theme the Wooden Horse, by
means of which the Greeks found entrance into
Troy. Apollo inspired him, and he sang so
feelingly the terrors and the exploits of that
eventful time that all were delighted, but Ulysses
was moved to tears. Observing which, Alcinous,
when the song was done, demanded of him why at the
mention of Troy his sorrows awaked. Had he lost
there a father, or brother, or any dear friend?
Ulysses replied by announcing himself by his true
name, and, at their request, recounted the
adventures which had befallen him since his
departure from Troy. This narrative raised the
sympathy and admiration of the Phaeacians for
their guest to the highest pitch. The king
proposed that all the chiefs should present him
with a gift, himself setting the example. They
obeyed, and vied with one another in loading the
illustrious stranger with costly gifts.
The next day Ulysses set sail in the Phaeacian
vessel, and in a short time arrived safe at
Ithaca, his own island. When the vessel touched
the strand he was asleep. The mariners, without
waking him, carried him on shore, and landed with
him the chest containing his presents, and then
sailed away.
Neptune was so displeased at the conduct of the
Phaeacians in thus rescuing Ulysses from his
hands, that, on the return of the vessel to port,
he transformed it into a rock, right opposite the
mouth of the harbor.
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