Tanglewood Tales (15 page)

Whatever little fault they might find with the dishes, they sat at
dinner a prodigiously long while; and it would really have made you
ashamed to see how they swilled down the liquor and gobbled up the food.
They sat on golden thrones, to be sure; but they behaved like pigs in a
sty; and, if they had had their wits about them, they might have guessed
that this was the opinion of their beautiful hostess and her maidens. It
brings a blush into my face to reckon up, in my own mind, what mountains
of meat and pudding, and what gallons of wine, these two and twenty
guzzlers and gormandizers ate and drank. They forgot all about their
homes, and their wives and children, and all about Ulysses, and
everything else, except this banquet, at which they wanted to keep
feasting forever. But at length they began to give over, from mere
incapacity to hold any more.

"That last bit of fat is too much for me," said one.

"And I have not room for another morsel," said his next neighbor,
heaving a sigh. "What a pity! My appetite is as sharp as ever."

In short, they all left off eating, and leaned back on their thrones,
with such a stupid and helpless aspect as made them ridiculous to
behold. When their hostess saw this, she laughed aloud; so did her four
damsels; so did the two and twenty serving men that bore the dishes, and
their two and twenty fellows that poured out the wine. And the louder
they all laughed, the more stupid and helpless did the two and twenty
gormandizers look. Then the beautiful woman took her stand in the middle
of the saloon, and stretching out a slender rod (it had been all the
while in her hand, although they never noticed it till this moment), she
turned it from one guest to another, until each had felt it pointed at
himself. Beautiful as her face was, and though there was a smile on it,
it looked just as wicked and mischievous as the ugliest serpent that
ever was seen; and fat-witted as the voyagers had made themselves, they
began to suspect that they had fallen into the power of an evil-minded
enchantress.

"Wretches," cried she, "you have abused a lady's hospitality; and in
this princely saloon your behavior has been suited to a hog-pen. You are
already swine in everything but the human form, which you disgrace, and
which I myself should be ashamed to keep a moment longer, were you to
share it with me. But it will require only the slightest exercise of
magic to make the exterior conform to the hoggish disposition. Assume
your proper shapes, gormandizers, and begone to the sty!"

Uttering these last words, she waved her wand; and stamping her foot
imperiously, each of the guests was struck aghast at beholding, instead
of his comrades in human shape, one and twenty hogs sitting on the same
number of golden thrones. Each man (as he still supposed himself to be)
essayed to give a cry of surprise, but found that he could merely grunt,
and that, in a word, he was just such another beast as his companions.
It looked so intolerably absurd to see hogs on cushioned thrones, that
they made haste to wallow down upon all fours, like other swine. They
tried to groan and beg for mercy, but forthwith emitted the most awful
grunting and squealing that ever came out of swinish throats. They would
have wrung their hands in despair, but, attempting to do so, grew all
the more desperate for seeing themselves squatted on their hams, and
pawing the air with their fore trotters. Dear me! what pendulous ears
they had! what little red eyes, half buried in fat! and what long
snouts, instead of Grecian noses!

But brutes as they certainly were, they yet had enough of human nature
in them to be shocked at their own hideousness; and still intending to
groan, they uttered a viler grunt and squeal than before. So harsh and
ear-piercing it was, that you would have fancied a butcher was sticking
his knife into each of their throats, or, at the very least, that
somebody was pulling every hog by his funny little twist of a tail.

"Begone to your sty!" cried the enchantress, giving them some smart
strokes with her wand; and then she turned to the serving men—"Drive
out these swine, and throw down some acorns for them to eat."

The door of the saloon being flung open, the drove of hogs ran in
all directions save the right one, in accordance with their hoggish
perversity, but were finally driven into the back yard of the palace. It
was a sight to bring tears into one's eyes (and I hope none of you will
be cruel enough to laugh at it), to see the poor creatures go snuffing
along, picking up here a cabbage leaf and there a turnip top, and
rooting their noses in the earth for whatever they could find. In their
sty, moreover, they behaved more piggishly than the pigs that had been
born so; for they bit and snorted at one another, put their feet in the
trough, and gobbled up their victuals in a ridiculous hurry; and, when
there was nothing more to be had, they made a great pile of themselves
among some unclean straw, and fell fast asleep. If they had any human
reason left, it was just enough to keep them wondering when they should
be slaughtered, and what quality of bacon they should make.

Meantime, as I told you before, Eurylochus had waited, and waited,
and waited, in the entrance hall of the palace, without being able to
comprehend what had befallen his friends. At last, when the swinish
uproar resounded through the palace, and when he saw the image of a hog
in the marble basin, he thought it best to hasten back to the vessel,
and inform the wise Ulysses of these marvelous occurrences. So he ran as
fast as he could down the steps, and never stopped to draw breath till
he reached the shore.

"Why do you come alone?" asked King Ulysses, as soon as he saw him.
"Where are your two and twenty comrades?"

At these questions, Eurylochus burst into tears.

"Alas!" he cried, "I greatly fear that we shall never see one of their
faces again."

Then he told Ulysses all that had happened, as far as he knew it, and
added that he suspected the beautiful woman to be a vile enchantress,
and the marble palace, magnificent as it looked, to be only a dismal
cavern in reality. As for his companions, he could not imagine what had
become of them, unless they had been given to the swine to be devoured
alive. At this intelligence, all the voyagers were greatly affrighted.
But Ulysses lost no time in girding on his sword, and hanging his bow
and quiver over his shoulders, and taking a spear in his right hand.
When his followers saw their wise leader making these preparations, they
inquired whither he was going, and earnestly besought him not to leave
them.

"You are our king," cried they; "and what is more, you are the wisest
man in the whole world, and nothing but your wisdom and courage can get
us out of this danger. If you desert us, and go to the enchanted palace,
you will suffer the same fate as our poor companions, and not a soul of
us will ever see our dear Ithaca again."

"As I am your king," answered Ulysses, "and wiser than any of you, it
is therefore the more my duty to see what has befallen our comrades, and
whether anything can yet be done to rescue them. Wait for me here until
tomorrow. If I do not then return, you must hoist sail, and endeavor to
find your way to our native land. For my part, I am answerable for the
fate of these poor mariners, who have stood by my side in battle,
and been so often drenched to the skin, along with me, by the same
tempestuous surges. I will either bring them back with me, or perish."

Had his followers dared, they would have detained him by force. But King
Ulysses frowned sternly on them, and shook his spear, and bade them stop
him at their peril. Seeing him so determined, they let him go, and sat
down on the sand, as disconsolate a set of people as could be, waiting
and praying for his return.

It happened to Ulysses, just as before, that, when he had gone a few
steps from the edge of the cliff, the purple bird came fluttering
towards him, crying, "Peep, peep, pe—weep!" and using all the art it
could to persuade him to go no farther.

"What mean you, little bird?" cried Ulysses. "You are arrayed like a
king in purple and gold, and wear a golden crown upon your head. Is it
because I too am a king, that you desire so earnestly to speak with me?
If you can talk in human language, say what you would have me do."

"Peep!" answered the purple bird, very dolorously. "Peep, peep,
pe—we—e!"

Certainly there lay some heavy anguish at the little bird's heart; and
it was a sorrowful predicament that he could not, at least, have the
consolation of telling what it was. But Ulysses had no time to waste in
trying to get at the mystery. He therefore quickened his pace, and had
gone a good way along the pleasant wood path, when there met him a young
man of very brisk and intelligent aspect, and clad in a rather singular
garb. He wore a short cloak and a sort of cap that seemed to be
furnished with a pair of wings; and from the lightness of his step, you
would have supposed that there might likewise be wings on his feet. To
enable him to walk still better (for he was always on one journey or
another) he carried a winged staff, around which two serpents were
wriggling and twisting. In short, I have said enough to make you guess
that it was Quicksilver; and Ulysses (who knew him of old, and had
learned a great deal of his wisdom from him) recognized him in a moment.

"Whither are you going in such a hurry, wise Ulysses?" asked
Quicksilver. "Do you not know that this island is enchanted? The wicked
enchantress (whose name is Circe, the sister of King Aetes) dwells in
the marble palace which you see yonder among the trees. By her magic
arts she changes every human being into the brute, beast, or fowl whom
he happens most to resemble."

"That little bird, which met me at the edge of the cliff," exclaimed
Ulysses; "was he a human being once?"

"Yes," answered Quicksilver. "He was once a king, named Picus, and a
pretty good sort of a king, too, only rather too proud of his purple
robe, and his crown, and the golden chain about his neck; so he was
forced to take the shape of a gaudy-feathered bird. The lions, and
wolves, and tigers, who will come running to meet you, in front of
the palace, were formerly fierce and cruel men, resembling in their
disposition the wild beasts whose forms they now rightfully wear."

"And my poor companions," said Ulysses. "Have they undergone a similar
change, through the arts of this wicked Circe?"

"You well know what gormandizers they were," replied Quicksilver; and
rogue that he was, he could not help laughing at the joke. "So you will
not be surprised to hear that they have all taken the shapes of swine!
If Circe had never done anything worse, I really should not think her so
very much to blame."

"But can I do nothing to help them?" inquired Ulysses.

"It will require all your wisdom," said Quicksilver, "and a little of my
own into the bargain, to keep your royal and sagacious self from being
transformed into a fox. But do as I bid you; and the matter may end
better than it has begun."

While he was speaking, Quicksilver seemed to be in search of something;
he went stooping along the ground, and soon laid his hand on a little
plant with a snow-white flower, which he plucked and smelt of. Ulysses
had been looking at that very spot only just before; and it appeared
to him that the plant had burst into full flower the instant when
Quicksilver touched it with his fingers.

"Take this flower, King Ulysses," said he. "Guard it as you do your
eyesight; for I can assure you it is exceedingly rare and precious, and
you might seek the whole earth over without ever finding another like
it. Keep it in your hand, and smell of it frequently after you enter the
palace, and while you are talking with the enchantress. Especially when
she offers you food, or a draught of wine out of her goblet, be
careful to fill your nostrils with the flower's fragrance. Follow these
directions, and you may defy her magic arts to change you into a fox."

Quicksilver then gave him some further advice how to behave, and bidding
him be bold and prudent, again assured him that, powerful as Circe was,
he would have a fair prospect of coming safely out of her enchanted
palace. After listening attentively, Ulysses thanked his good
friend, and resumed his way. But he had taken only a few steps, when,
recollecting some other questions which he wished to ask, he turned
round again, and beheld nobody on the spot where Quicksilver had stood;
for that winged cap of his, and those winged shoes, with the help of the
winged staff, had carried him quickly out of sight.

When Ulysses reached the lawn, in front of the palace, the lions and
other savage animals came bounding to meet him, and would have fawned
upon him and licked his feet. But the wise king struck at them with his
long spear, and sternly bade them begone out of his path; for he knew
that they had once been bloodthirsty men, and would now tear him limb
from limb, instead of fawning upon him, could they do the mischief that
was in their hearts. The wild beasts yelped and glared at him, and stood
at a distance, while he ascended the palace steps.

On entering the hall, Ulysses saw the magic fountain in the center of
it. The up-gushing water had now again taken the shape of a man in a
long, white, fleecy robe, who appeared to be making gestures of welcome.
The king likewise heard the noise of the shuttle in the loom and the
sweet melody of the beautiful woman's song, and then the pleasant voices
of herself and the four maidens talking together, with peals of merry
laughter intermixed. But Ulysses did not waste much time in listening to
the laughter or the song. He leaned his spear against one of the pillars
of the hall, and then, after loosening his sword in the scabbard,
stepped boldly forward, and threw the folding doors wide open. The
moment she beheld his stately figure standing in the doorway, the
beautiful woman rose from the loom, and ran to meet him with a glad
smile throwing its sunshine over her face, and both her hands extended.