is own Fairy Tale, nay, his own poem, is a
Proteus, which must be grasped and held by the one central thought. In
fact, does not the modern reader, like ancient Menelaus, in his
wanderings need an Eidothea, an interpreter, to point out the Old Man
of the Sea, the First One, and to tell how to catch him? In the very
names of Proteus and Eidothea we feel the intention, the conscious
etymology which borders on personification. Yet around this simple
substrate of thought are woven so many wonders, so many suggestions,
far-hinting and deep-glancing, that it becomes truly the Tale of Tales
(_Maerchen aller Maerchen_).

The Fairy Tale will appear again in the Odyssey, and take possession of
the whole poem for a time when we come to the wanderings of Ulysses.
Now it is but a slight bubbling-up of what will be a great stream. At
present it turns to the East and unfolds the Greek relation thereto;
hereafter it will turn to the West, and unfold the Greek relation
thereto. Both have their wise men, and the Return is from each
direction to Greece. The distinction between them we may suggest in
advance: the one has more of the speculative, of the spirit; the other
has more of the active, of the will, though neither side excludes the
other. Both men return to Hellas as the common destination; hence, we
find in this Book everywhere expressed the intimate brotherhood between
Menelaus and Ulysses.

It is of great interest to see the poet build his Fairy Tale, which is
but one form of his mythical procedure. Instinctively he builds it, as
the bee does the honey-cell. He places the God or Goddess at the center
of every movement or event; by divine will it is all brought about. The
sea which stands in the way of the return of Ulysses is a deity,
Poseidon; Eidothea is a person, the voice of the world of Appearance,
and she leads to Proteus, the Primal One. To Homer personality is at
the heart of this universe. Such is truly the mythical mind; all
phenomena are the product of an intelligent will, not of blind law. Not
a long chain of cause and effect hovers before Homer's soul, thus his
work would be prose; but he sees self-cause at once, and so cannot help
being poetical, as well as religious. The culture of to-day tends too
much to divest us of the mythical spirit--which is not altogether a
gain. Homer, if rightly studied, will help restore that lost gift of
the early ages.

But now we must turn our look to the youth for whom the tale ha