Tanglewood Tales (16 page)

"Welcome, brave stranger!" cried she. "We were expecting you."

And the nymph with the sea-green hair made a courtesy down to the
ground, and likewise bade him welcome; so did her sister with the bodice
of oaken bark, and she that sprinkled dew-drops from her fingers' ends,
and the fourth one with some oddity which I cannot remember. And Circe,
as the beautiful enchantress was called (who had deluded so many persons
that she did not doubt of being able to delude Ulysses, not imagining
how wise he was), again addressed him:

"Your companions," said she, "have already been received into my palace,
and have enjoyed the hospitable treatment to which the propriety of
their behavior so well entitles them. If such be your pleasure, you
shall first take some refreshment, and then join them in the elegant
apartment which they now occupy. See, I and my maidens have been weaving
their figures into this piece of tapestry."

She pointed to the web of beautifully-woven cloth in the loom. Circe and
the four nymphs must have been very diligently at work since the
arrival of the mariners; for a great many yards of tapestry had now
been wrought, in addition to what I before described. In this new
part, Ulysses saw his two and twenty friends represented as sitting on
cushions and canopied thrones, greedily devouring dainties, and quaffing
deep draughts of wine. The work had not yet gone any further. O, no,
indeed. The enchantress was far too cunning to let Ulysses see the
mischief which her magic arts had since brought upon the gormandizers.

"As for yourself, valiant sir," said Circe, "judging by the dignity of
your aspect, I take you to be nothing less than a king. Deign to follow
me, and you shall be treated as befits your rank."

So Ulysses followed her into the oval saloon, where his two and twenty
comrades had devoured the banquet, which ended so disastrously for
themselves. But, all this while, he had held the snow-white flower in
his hand, and had constantly smelt of it while Circe was speaking; and
as he crossed the threshold of the saloon, he took good care to inhale
several long and deep snuffs of its fragrance. Instead of two and twenty
thrones, which had before been ranged around the wall, there was now
only a single throne, in the center of the apartment. But this was
surely the most magnificent seat that ever a king or an emperor reposed
himself upon, all made of chased gold, studded with precious stones,
with a cushion that looked like a soft heap of living roses, and
overhung by a canopy of sunlight which Circe knew how to weave into
drapery. The enchantress took Ulysses by the hand, and made him sit down
upon this dazzling throne. Then, clapping her hands, she summoned the
chief butler.

"Bring hither," said she, "the goblet that is set apart for kings to
drink out of. And fill it with the same delicious wine which my royal
brother, King Aetes, praised so highly, when he last visited me with my
fair daughter Medea. That good and amiable child! Were she now here, it
would delight her to see me offering this wine to my honored guest."

But Ulysses, while the butler was gone for the wine, held the snow-white
flower to his nose.

"Is it a wholesome wine?" he asked.

At this the four maidens tittered; whereupon the enchantress looked
round at them, with an aspect of severity.

"It is the wholesomest juice that ever was squeezed out of the grape,"
said she; "for, instead of disguising a man, as other liquor is apt to
do, it brings him to his true self, and shows him as he ought to be."

The chief butler liked nothing better than to see people turned into
swine, or making any kind of a beast of themselves; so he made haste
to bring the royal goblet, filled with a liquid as bright as gold, and
which kept sparkling upward, and throwing a sunny spray over the brim.
But, delightfully as the wine looked, it was mingled with the most
potent enchantments that Circe knew how to concoct. For every drop of
the pure grape juice there were two drops of the pure mischief; and the
danger of the thing was, that the mischief made it taste all the better.
The mere smell of the bubbles, which effervesced at the brim, was enough
to turn a man's beard into pig's bristles, or make a lion's claws grow
out of his fingers, or a fox's brush behind him.

"Drink, my noble guest," said Circe, smiling, as she presented him
with the goblet. "You will find in this draught a solace for all your
troubles."

King Ulysses took the goblet with his right hand, while with his left he
held the snow-white flower to his nostrils, and drew in so long a breath
that his lungs were quite filled with its pure and simple fragrance.
Then, drinking off all the wine, he looked the enchantress calmly in the
face.

"Wretch," cried Circe, giving him a smart stroke with her wand, "how
dare you keep your human shape a moment longer! Take the form of the
brute whom you most resemble. If a hog, go join your fellow-swine in
the sty; if a lion, a wolf, a tiger, go howl with the wild beasts on the
lawn; if a fox, go exercise your craft in stealing poultry. Thou hast
quaffed off my wine, and canst be man no longer."

But, such was the virtue of the snow-white flower, instead of wallowing
down from his throne in swinish shape, or taking any other brutal form,
Ulysses looked even more manly and king-like than before. He gave the
magic goblet a toss, and sent it clashing over the marble floor to
the farthest end of the saloon. Then, drawing his sword, he seized the
enchantress by her beautiful ringlets, and made a gesture as if he meant
to strike off her head at one blow.

"Wicked Circe," cried he, in a terrible voice, "this sword shall put an
end to thy enchant meets. Thou shalt die, vile wretch, and do no more
mischief in the world, by tempting human beings into the vices which
make beasts of them."

The tone and countenance of Ulysses were so awful, and his sword gleamed
so brightly, and seemed to have so intolerably keen an edge, that Circe
was almost killed by the mere fright, without waiting for a blow. The
chief butler scrambled out of the saloon, picking up the golden goblet
as he went; and the enchantress and the four maidens fell on their
knees, wringing their hands, and screaming for mercy.

"Spare me!" cried Circe. "Spare me, royal and wise Ulysses. For now
I know that thou art he of whom Quicksilver forewarned me, the most
prudent of mortals, against whom no enchantments can prevail. Thou only
couldst have conquered Circe. Spare me, wisest of men. I will show
thee true hospitality, and even give myself to be thy slave, and this
magnificent palace to be henceforth thy home."

The four nymphs, meanwhile, were making a most piteous ado; and
especially the ocean nymph, with the sea-green hair, wept a great deal
of salt water, and the fountain nymph, besides scattering dewdrops from
her fingers' ends, nearly melted away into tears. But Ulysses would
not be pacified until Circe had taken a solemn oath to change back his
companions, and as many others as he should direct, from their present
forms of beast or bird into their former shapes of men.

"On these conditions," said he, "I consent to spare your life. Otherwise
you must die upon the spot."

With a drawn sword hanging over her, the enchantress would readily have
consented to do as much good as she had hitherto done mischief, however
little she might like such employment. She therefore led Ulysses out of
the back entrance of the palace, and showed him the swine in their sty.
There were about fifty of these unclean beasts in the whole herd; and
though the greater part were hogs by birth and education, there was
wonderfully little difference to be seen betwixt them and their new
brethren, who had so recently worn the human shape. To speak critically,
indeed, the latter rather carried the thing to excess, and seemed to
make it a point to wallow in the miriest part of the sty, and otherwise
to outdo the original swine in their own natural vocation. When men
once turn to brutes, the trifle of man's wit that remains in them adds
tenfold to their brutality.

The comrades of Ulysses, however, had not quite lost the remembrance of
having formerly stood erect. When he approached the sty, two and twenty
enormous swine separated themselves from the herd, and scampered towards
him, with such a chorus of horrible squealing as made him clap both
hands to his ears. And yet they did not seem to know what they wanted,
nor whether they were merely hungry, or miserable from some other
cause. It was curious, in the midst of their distress, to observe them
thrusting their noses into the mire, in quest of something to eat. The
nymph with the bodice of oaken bark (she was the hamadryad of an oak)
threw a handful of acorns among them; and the two and twenty hogs
scrambled and fought for the prize, as if they had tasted not so much as
a noggin of sour milk for a twelvemonth.

"These must certainly be my comrades," said Ulysses. "I recognize their
dispositions. They are hardly worth the trouble of changing them into
the human form again. Nevertheless, we will have it done, lest their
bad example should corrupt the other hogs. Let them take their original
shapes, therefore, Dame Circe, if your skill is equal to the task. It
will require greater magic, I trow, than it did to make swine of them."

So Circe waved her wand again, and repeated a few magic words, at the
sound of which the two and twenty hogs pricked up their pendulous ears.
It was a wonder to behold how their snouts grew shorter and shorter, and
their mouths (which they seemed to be sorry for, because they could not
gobble so expeditiously) smaller and smaller, and how one and another
began to stand upon his hind legs, and scratch his nose with his fore
trotters. At first the spectators hardly knew whether to call them hogs
or men, but by and by came to the conclusion that they rather resembled
the latter. Finally, there stood the twenty-two comrades of Ulysses,
looking pretty much the same as when they left the vessel.

You must not imagine, however, that the swinish quality had entirely
gone out of them. When once it fastens itself into a person's character,
it is very difficult getting rid of it. This was proved by the
hamadryad, who, being exceedingly fond of mischief, threw another
handful of acorns before the twenty-two newly-restored people; whereupon
down they wallowed in a moment, and gobbled them up in a very shameful
way. Then, recollecting themselves, they scrambled to their feet, and
looked more than commonly foolish.

"Thanks, noble Ulysses!" they cried. "From brute beasts you have
restored us to the condition of men again."

"Do not put yourselves to the trouble of thanking me," said the wise
king. "I fear I have done but little for you."

To say the truth, there was a suspicious kind of a grunt in their
voices, and, for a long time afterwards, they spoke gruffly, and were
apt to set up a squeal.

"It must depend on your own future behavior," added Ulysses, "whether
you do not find your way back to the sty."

At this moment, the note of a bird sounded from the branch of a
neighboring tree.

"Peep, peep, pe—wee—e!"

It was the purple bird, who, all this while, had been sitting over their
heads, watching what was going forward, and hoping that Ulysses would
remember how he had done his utmost to keep him and his followers out of
harm's way. Ulysses ordered Circe instantly to make a king of this good
little fowl, and leave him exactly as she found him. Hardly were the
words spoken, and before the bird had time to utter another "pe—weep,"
King Picus leaped down from the bough of a tree, as majestic a sovereign
as any in the world, dressed in a long purple robe and gorgeous yellow
stockings, with a splendidly wrought collar about his neck, and a golden
crown upon his head. He and King Ulysses exchanged with one another
the courtesies which belong to their elevated rank. But from that time
forth, King Picus was no longer proud of his crown and his trappings of
royalty, nor of the fact of his being a king; he felt himself merely the
upper servant of his people, and that it must be his life-long labor to
make them better and happier.

As for the lions, tigers, and wolves (though Circe would have restored
them to their former shapes at his slightest word), Ulysses thought
it advisable that they should remain as they now were, and thus give
warning of their cruel dispositions, instead of going about under the
guise of men, and pretending to human sympathies, while their hearts
had the blood-thirstiness of wild beasts. So he let them howl as much as
they liked, but never troubled his head about them. And, when everything
was settled according to his pleasure, he sent to summon the remainder
of his comrades, whom he had left at the sea-shore. These being arrived,
with the prudent Eurylochus at their head, they all made themselves
comfortable in Circe's enchanted palace, until quite rested and
refreshed from the toils and hardships of their voyage.

Mother Ceres was exceedingly fond of her daughter Proserpina, and seldom
let her go alone into the fields. But, just at the time when my story
begins, the good lady was very busy, because she had the care of the
wheat, and the Indian corn, and the rye and barley and, in short, of the
crops of every kind, all over the earth; and as the season had thus far
been uncommonly backward, it was necessary to make the harvest ripen
more speedily than usual. So she put on her turban, made of poppies (a
kind of flower which she was always noted for wearing), and got into her
car drawn by a pair of winged dragons, and was just ready to set off.

"Dear mother," said Proserpina, "I shall be very lonely while you are
away. May I not run down to the shore, and ask some of the sea nymphs to
come up out of the waves and play with me?"

"Yes, child," answered Mother Ceres. "The sea nymphs are good creatures,
and will never lead you into any harm. But you must take care not to
stray away from them, nor go wandering about the fields by yourself.
Young girls, without their mothers to take care of them, are very apt to
get into mischief."