The Odyssey. Homer
Book I
Tell me, O muse, of that ingenious hero who travelled far and wide after
he had sacked the famous town of Troy. Many cities did he visit, and many
were the nations with whose manners and customs he was acquainted; moreover
he suffered much by sea while trying to save his own life and bring his
men safely home; but do what he might he could not save his men, for they
perished through their own sheer folly in eating the cattle of the Sun-god
Hyperion; so the god prevented them from ever reaching home. Tell me, too,
about all these things, O daughter of Jove, from whatsoever source you
may know them.
So now all who escaped death in battle or by shipwreck had got
safely home except Ulysses, and he, though he was longing to return to
his wife and country, was detained by the goddess Calypso, who had got
him into a large cave and wanted to marry him. But as years went by, there
came a time when the gods settled that he should go back to Ithaca; even
then, however, when he was among his own people, his troubles were not
yet over; nevertheless all the gods had now begun to pity him except Neptune,
who still persecuted him without ceasing and would not let him get
home.
Now Neptune had gone off to the Ethiopians, who are at the world′s
end, and lie in two halves, the one looking West and the other East. He
had gone there to accept a hecatomb of sheep and oxen, and was enjoying
himself at his festival; but the other gods met in the house of Olympian
Jove, and the sire of gods and men spoke first. At that moment he was thinking
of Aegisthus, who had been killed by Agamemnon′s son Orestes; so he said
to the other gods:
"See now, how men lay blame upon us gods for what is after all
nothing but their own folly. Look at Aegisthus; he must needs make love
to Agamemnon′s wife unrighteously and then kill Agamemnon, though he knew
it would be the death of him; for I sent Mercury to warn him not to do
either of these things, inasmuch as Orestes would be sure to take his revenge
when he grew up and wanted to return home. Mercury told him this in all
good will but he would not listen, and now he has paid for everything in
full."
Then Minerva said, "Father, son of Saturn, King of kings, it served
Aegisthus right, and so it would any one else who does as he did; but Aegisthus
is neither here nor there; it is for Ulysses that my heart bleeds, when
I think of his sufferings in that lonely sea-girt island, far away, poor
man, from all his friends. It is an island covered with forest, in the
very middle of the sea, and a goddess lives there, daughter of the magician
Atlas, who looks after the bottom of the ocean, and carries the great columns
that keep heaven and earth asunder. This daughter of Atlas has got hold
of poor unhappy Ulysses, and keeps trying by every kind of blandishment
to make him forget his home, so that he is tired of life, and thinks of
nothing but how he may once more see the smoke of his own chimneys. You,
sir, take no heed of this, and yet when Ulysses was before Troy did he
not propitiate you with many a burnt sacrifice? Why then should you keep
on being so angry with him?"
And Jove said, "My child, what are you talking about? How can I
forget Ulysses than whom there is no more capable man on earth, nor more
liberal in his offerings to the immortal gods that live in heaven? Bear
in mind, however, that Neptune is still furious with Ulysses for having
blinded an eye of Polyphemus king of the Cyclopes. Polyphemus is son to
Neptune by the nymph Thoosa, daughter to the sea-king Phorcys; therefore
though he will not kill Ulysses outright, he torments him by preventing
him from getting home. Still, let us lay our heads together and see how
we can help him to return; Neptune will then be pacified, for if we are
all of a mind he can hardly stand out against us."
And Minerva said, "Father, son of Saturn, King of kings, if, then,
the gods now mean that Ulysses should get home, we should first send Mercury
to the Ogygian island to tell Calypso that we have made up our minds and
that he is to return. In the meantime I will go to Ithaca, to put heart
into Ulysses′ son Telemachus; I will embolden him to call the Achaeans
in assembly, and speak out to the suitors of his mother Penelope, who persist
in eating up any number of his sheep and oxen; I will also conduct him
to Sparta and to Pylos, to see if he can hear anything about the return
of his dear father- for this will make people speak well of
him."
So saying she bound on her glittering golden sandals, imperishable,
with which she can fly like the wind over land or sea; she grasped the
redoubtable bronze-shod spear, so stout and sturdy and strong, wherewith
she quells the ranks of heroes who have displeased her, and down she darted
from the topmost summits of Olympus, whereon forthwith she was in Ithaca,
at the gateway of Ulysses′ house, disguised as a visitor, Mentes, chief
of the Taphians, and she held a bronze spear in her hand. There she found
the lordly suitors seated on hides of the oxen which they had killed and
eaten, and playing draughts in front of the house. Men-servants and pages
were bustling about to wait upon them, some mixing wine with water in the
mixing-bowls, some cleaning down the tables with wet sponges and laying
them out again, and some cutting up great quantities of
meat.
Telemachus saw her long before any one else did. He was sitting
moodily among the suitors thinking about his brave father, and how he would
send them flying out of the house, if he were to come to his own again
and be honoured as in days gone by. Thus brooding as he sat among them,
he caught sight of Minerva and went straight to the gate, for he was vexed
that a stranger should be kept waiting for admittance. He took her right
hand in his own, and bade her give him her spear. "Welcome," said he, "to
our house, and when you have partaken of food you shall tell us what you
have come for."
He led the way as he spoke, and Minerva followed him. When they
were within he took her spear and set it in the spear- stand against a
strong bearing-post along with the many other spears of his unhappy father,
and he conducted her to a richly decorated seat under which he threw a
cloth of damask. There was a footstool also for her feet, and he set another
seat near her for himself, away from the suitors, that she might not be
annoyed while eating by their noise and insolence, and that he might ask
her more freely about his father.
A maid servant then brought them water in a beautiful golden ewer
and poured it into a silver basin for them to wash their hands, and she
drew a clean table beside them. An upper servant brought them bread, and
offered them many good things of what there was in the house, the carver
fetched them plates of all manner of meats and set cups of gold by their
side, and a man-servant brought them wine and poured it out for
them.
Then the suitors came in and took their places on the benches and
seats. Forthwith men servants poured water over their hands, maids went
round with the bread-baskets, pages filled the mixing-bowls with wine and
water, and they laid their hands upon the good things that were before
them. As soon as they had had enough to eat and drink they wanted music
and dancing, which are the crowning embellishments of a banquet, so a servant
brought a lyre to Phemius, whom they compelled perforce to sing to them.
As soon as he touched his lyre and began to sing Telemachus spoke low to
Minerva, with his head close to hers that no man might
hear.
"I hope, sir," said he, "that you will not be offended with what
I am going to say. Singing comes cheap to those who do not pay for it,
and all this is done at the cost of one whose bones lie rotting in some
wilderness or grinding to powder in the surf. If these men were to see
my father come back to Ithaca they would pray for longer legs rather than
a longer purse, for money would not serve them; but he, alas, has fallen
on an ill fate, and even when people do sometimes say that he is coming,
we no longer heed them; we shall never see him again. And now, sir, tell
me and tell me true, who you are and where you come from. Tell me of your
town and parents, what manner of ship you came in, how your crew brought
you to Ithaca, and of what nation they declared themselves to be- for you
cannot have come by land. Tell me also truly, for I want to know, are you
a stranger to this house, or have you been here in my father′s time? In
the old days we had many visitors for my father went about much
himself."
And Minerva answered, "I will tell you truly and particularly all
about it. I am Mentes, son of Anchialus, and I am King of the Taphians.
I have come here with my ship and crew, on a voyage to men of a foreign
tongue being bound for Temesa with a cargo of iron, and I shall bring back
copper. As for my ship, it lies over yonder off the open country away from
the town, in the harbour Rheithron under the wooded mountain Neritum. Our
fathers were friends before us, as old Laertes will tell you, if you will
go and ask him. They say, however, that he never comes to town now, and
lives by himself in the country, faring hardly, with an old woman to look
after him and get his dinner for him, when he comes in tired from pottering
about his vineyard. They told me your father was at home again, and that
was why I came, but it seems the gods are still keeping him back, for he
is not dead yet not on the mainland. It is more likely he is on some sea-girt
island in mid ocean, or a prisoner among savages who are detaining him
against his will I am no prophet, and know very little about omens, but
I speak as it is borne in upon me from heaven, and assure you that he will
not be away much longer; for he is a man of such resource that even though
he were in chains of iron he would find some means of getting home again.
But tell me, and tell me true, can Ulysses really have such a fine looking
fellow for a son? You are indeed wonderfully like him about the head and
eyes, for we were close friends before he set sail for Troy where the flower
of all the Argives went also. Since that time we have never either of us
seen the other."
"My mother," answered Telemachus, tells me I am son to Ulysses,
but it is a wise child that knows his own father. Would that I were son
to one who had grown old upon his own estates, for, since you ask me, there
is no more ill-starred man under heaven than he who they tell me is my
father."
And Minerva said, "There is no fear of your race dying out yet,
while Penelope has such a fine son as you are. But tell me, and tell me
true, what is the meaning of all this feasting, and who are these people?
What is it all about? Have you some banquet, or is there a wedding in the
family- for no one seems to be bringing any provisions of his own? And
the guests- how atrociously they are behaving; what riot they make over
the whole house; it is enough to disgust any respectable person who comes
near them."
"Sir," said Telemachus, "as regards your question, so long as my
father was here it was well with us and with the house, but the gods in
their displeasure have willed it otherwise, and have hidden him away more
closely than mortal man was ever yet hidden. I could have borne it better
even though he were dead, if he had fallen with his men before Troy, or
had died with friends around him when the days of his fighting were done;
for then the Achaeans would have built a mound over his ashes, and I should
myself have been heir to his renown; but now the storm-winds have spirited
him away we know not wither; he is gone without leaving so much as a trace
behind him, and I inherit nothing but dismay. Nor does the matter end simply
with grief for the loss of my father; heaven has laid sorrows upon me of
yet another kind; for the chiefs from all our islands, Dulichium, Same,
and the woodland island of Zacynthus, as also all the principal men of
Ithaca itself, are eating up my house under the pretext of paying their
court to my mother, who will neither point blank say that she will not
marry, nor yet bring matters to an end; so they are making havoc of my
estate, and before long will do so also with myself."
"Is that so?" exclaimed Minerva, "then you do indeed want Ulysses
home again. Give him his helmet, shield, and a couple lances, and if he
is the man he was when I first knew him in our house, drinking and making
merry, he would soon lay his hands about these rascally suitors, were he
to stand once more upon his own threshold. He was then coming from Ephyra,
where he had been to beg poison for his arrows from Ilus, son of Mermerus.
Ilus feared the ever-living gods and would not give him any, but my father
let him have some, for he was very fond of him. If Ulysses is the man he
then was these suitors will have a short shrift and a sorry
wedding.
"But there! It rests with heaven to determine whether he is to
return, and take his revenge in his own house or no; I would, however,
urge you to set about trying to get rid of these suitors at once. Take
my advice, call the Achaean heroes in assembly to-morrow -lay your case
before them, and call heaven to bear you witness. Bid the suitors take
themselves off, each to his own place, and if your mother′s mind is set
on marrying again, let her go back to her father, who will find her a husband
and provide her with all the marriage gifts that so dear a daughter may
expect. As for yourself, let me prevail upon you to take the best ship
you can get, with a crew of twenty men, and go in quest of your father
who has so long been missing. Some one may tell you something, or (and
people often hear things in this way) some heaven-sent message may direct
you. First go to Pylos and ask Nestor; thence go on to Sparta and visit
Menelaus, for he got home last of all the Achaeans; if you hear that your
father is alive and on his way home, you can put up with the waste these
suitors will make for yet another twelve months. If on the other hand you
hear of his death, come home at once, celebrate his funeral rites with
all due pomp, build a barrow to his memory, and make your mother marry
again. Then, having done all this, think it well over in your mind how,
by fair means or foul, you may kill these suitors in your own house. You
are too old to plead infancy any longer; have you not heard how people
are singing Orestes′ praises for having killed his father′s murderer Aegisthus?
You are a fine, smart looking fellow; show your mettle, then, and make
yourself a name in story. Now, however, I must go back to my ship and to
my crew, who will be impatient if I keep them waiting longer; think the
matter over for yourself, and remember what I have said to
you."
"Sir," answered Telemachus, "it has been very kind of you to talk
to me in this way, as though I were your own son, and I will do all you
tell me; I know you want to be getting on with your voyage, but stay a
little longer till you have taken a bath and refreshed yourself. I will
then give you a present, and you shall go on your way rejoicing; I will
give you one of great beauty and value- a keepsake such as only dear friends
give to one another."
Minerva answered, "Do not try to keep me, for I would be on my
way at once. As for any present you may be disposed to make me, keep it
till I come again, and I will take it home with me. You shall give me a
very good one, and I will give you one of no less value in
return."
With these words she flew away like a bird into the air, but she
had given Telemachus courage, and had made him think more than ever about
his father. He felt the change, wondered at it, and knew that the stranger
had been a god, so he went straight to where the suitors were
sitting.
Phemius was still singing, and his hearers sat rapt in silence
as he told the sad tale of the return from Troy, and the ills Minerva had
laid upon the Achaeans. Penelope, daughter of Icarius, heard his song from
her room upstairs, and came down by the great staircase, not alone, but
attended by two of her handmaids. When she reached the suitors she stood
by one of the bearing posts that supported the roof of the cloisters with
a staid maiden on either side of her. She held a veil, moreover, before
her face, and was weeping bitterly.
"Phemius," she cried, "you know many another feat of gods and heroes,
such as poets love to celebrate. Sing the suitors some one of these, and
let them drink their wine in silence, but cease this sad tale, for it breaks
my sorrowful heart, and reminds me of my lost husband whom I mourn ever
without ceasing, and whose name was great over all Hellas and middle
Argos."
"Mother," answered Telemachus, "let the bard sing what he has a
mind to; bards do not make the ills they sing of; it is Jove, not they,
who makes them, and who sends weal or woe upon mankind according to his
own good pleasure. This fellow means no harm by singing the ill-fated return
of the Danaans, for people always applaud the latest songs most warmly.
Make up your mind to it and bear it; Ulysses is not the only man who never
came back from Troy, but many another went down as well as he. Go, then,
within the house and busy yourself with your daily duties, your loom, your
distaff, and the ordering of your servants; for speech is man′s matter,
and mine above all others- for it is I who am master
here."
She went wondering back into the house, and laid her son′s saying
in her heart. Then, going upstairs with her handmaids into her room, she
mourned her dear husband till Minerva shed sweet sleep over her eyes. But
the suitors were clamorous throughout the covered cloisters, and prayed
each one that he might be her bed fellow.
Then Telemachus spoke, "Shameless," he cried, "and insolent suitors,
let us feast at our pleasure now, and let there be no brawling, for it
is a rare thing to hear a man with such a divine voice as Phemius has;
but in the morning meet me in full assembly that I may give you formal
notice to depart, and feast at one another′s houses, turn and turn about,
at your own cost. If on the other hand you choose to persist in spunging
upon one man, heaven help me, but Jove shall reckon with you in full, and
when you fall in my father′s house there shall be no man to avenge
you."
The suitors bit their lips as they heard him, and marvelled at
the boldness of his speech. Then, Antinous, son of Eupeithes, said, "The
gods seem to have given you lessons in bluster and tall talking; may Jove
never grant you to be chief in Ithaca as your father was before
you."
Telemachus answered, "Antinous, do not chide with me, but, god
willing, I will be chief too if I can. Is this the worst fate you can think
of for me? It is no bad thing to be a chief, for it brings both riches
and honour. Still, now that Ulysses is dead there are many great men in
Ithaca both old and young, and some other may take the lead among them;
nevertheless I will be chief in my own house, and will rule those whom
Ulysses has won for me."
Then Eurymachus, son of Polybus, answered, "It rests with heaven
to decide who shall be chief among us, but you shall be master in your
own house and over your own possessions; no one while there is a man in
Ithaca shall do you violence nor rob you. And now, my good fellow, I want
to know about this stranger. What country does he come from? Of what family
is he, and where is his estate? Has he brought you news about the return
of your father, or was he on business of his own? He seemed a well-to-do
man, but he hurried off so suddenly that he was gone in a moment before
we could get to know him."
"My father is dead and gone," answered Telemachus, "and even if
some rumour reaches me I put no more faith in it now. My mother does indeed
sometimes send for a soothsayer and question him, but I give his prophecyings
no heed. As for the stranger, he was Mentes, son of Anchialus, chief of
the Taphians, an old friend of my father′s." But in his heart he knew that
it had been the goddess.
The suitors then returned to their singing and dancing until the
evening; but when night fell upon their pleasuring they went home to bed
each in his own abode. Telemachus′s room was high up in a tower that looked
on to the outer court; hither, then, he hied, brooding and full of thought.
A good old woman, Euryclea, daughter of Ops, the son of Pisenor, went before
him with a couple of blazing torches. Laertes had bought her with his own
money when she was quite young; he gave the worth of twenty oxen for her,
and shewed as much respect to her in his household as he did to his own
wedded wife, but he did not take her to his bed for he feared his wife′s
resentment. She it was who now lighted Telemachus to his room, and she
loved him better than any of the other women in the house did, for she
had nursed him when he was a baby. He opened the door of his bed room and
sat down upon the bed; as he took off his shirt he gave it to the good
old woman, who folded it tidily up, and hung it for him over a peg by his
bed side, after which she went out, pulled the door to by a silver catch,
and drew the bolt home by means of the strap. But Telemachus as he lay
covered with a woollen fleece kept thinking all night through of his intended
voyage of the counsel that Minerva had given him.
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