Arrival of Telemachus—Ulysses reveals himself to his Son
When Telemachus reached the enclosure of the chief herder, the sun was
already high in the heavens. The shepherds had scattered with their
flocks and herds in fields and forest, and the excellent Eumæus was
lying with Ulysses before the blazing fire where they had just roasted a
piece of meat for their breakfast. “Listen, I hear footsteps,” said
Ulysses, “and the dogs do not bark. It must be one of thy comrades or
acquaintances.”
Scarcely were the words spoken when Telemachus appeared in the gateway,
the dogs leaping about him in joyful welcome. The swineherd was so
astonished that he let fall his cup and hurried out to meet the new
arrival. He threw his arms about him, wept over him, and gazed upon him
in delight as though he had arisen from the dead. It was a long time
before he could speak, and then he broke out tenderly: “Hast thou really
come, Telemachus? Art thou here, my sweet life? I feared never to see
thee again, when I heard that thou hadst sailed for Pylos. But enter,
dear son, that I may delight in thee; for not often dost thou visit the
shepherd, preferring to mingle with the swarm of suitors in the city.”
“How canst thou talk thus, old man?” interrupted the youth. “But never
mind. I have come to thee to find out whether my mother has listened to
one of the suitors and left my poor house.”
“No, indeed,” answered Eumæus. “She still sits and weeps away her days
and nights in thy palace. Thou wilt find her as thou didst leave her.”
The two now entered the hut, and the unknown beggar whose heart was
beating with joy at the sight of his handsome son controlled himself
with difficulty. With the deference of the poor he arose from his couch
to give place to the stranger, but Telemachus prevented him, saying:
“Sit still, stranger. I will find a seat somewhere.” Eumæus brought out
the remains of the meal and they all sat down to eat and drink. At
length Telemachus said: “Now, father Eumæus, do thou go to the city for
me and bring the news secretly to Penelope that I am safely returned
from Pylos. But take care that no suitor hears it, for many enemies are
plotting against me.”
“Be it so,” said the herdsman, putting on his sandals and taking up his
staff. Ulysses was still looking after him, when he saw through the
half-opened gate the figure of a tall, slender maiden, beckoning to him.
The dogs slunk into the corners, but Telemachus did not perceive the
apparition. Ulysses divined that it was the goddess and went out to the
gateway.
“Noble son of Laertes,” Athene addressed him, “the time has now come for
thee to reveal thyself to thy son. Take counsel with him how ye may make
an end of the suitors. I shall soon be with you.”
While speaking she touched him with her golden staff and instantly his
beggar’s dress was transformed into a fine purple cloak and his wrinkled
face into a fresh manly countenance and the bald head was covered with
shining brown locks. He reëntered the hut, from which he had just issued
in rags, looking like a king. Telemachus gazed at him in astonishment
and said, uncertainly: “Stranger, how changed thou art. Ah, I feel that
a god approaches. Be merciful to us, thou holy one. Gladly will we
sacrifice to thee and bring thee gifts.”
“No,” cried Ulysses, “I am not a god. I am the father for whom thou hast
mourned so long. I am Ulysses.” Joyfully he clasped his son in his arms
and kissed him.
“Doubt no longer, dear son,” continued Ulysses. “It was not I who worked
the miracle, but Athene, who is with me. The gods can do all things;
they can glorify or disfigure a mortal according to their pleasure. Yes,
it is I, Ulysses, who have been wandering afar for twenty years, and
thou art my beloved son. I have found my greatest happiness in holding
thee here in my arms.”
He could say no more for sobbing. Father and son wept for some time,
closely clasping each other. Ever and anon they would gaze silently at
each other, then break out in tears of joy and gratitude.
At length began tender questionings, but the answers had to be left for
leisure days. Now they must discuss the great question. A long time was
spent in consultation and Ulysses instructed his son how to proceed and
how to receive him when he should arrive at the palace. In the meanwhile
the vessel which had brought Telemachus had sailed round the island and
entered the harbor near the city. The men beached the ship. One faithful
youth took Telemachus’ gifts away with him, another ran to Ulysses’
palace to bring the queen news of her son’s return. But he was so
imprudent as to cry out the news to her before all the suitors, who
gnashed their teeth with rage over the failure of their schemes and
stole away to concoct secretly new ones.
Soon afterward honest Eumæus also arrived with his secret message, but
found he was too late, and at once set out again for his home, where he
arrived in the evening. Athene had again clothed the king in his
beggar’s rags, so that Eumæus had no idea of what had taken place during
his absence. He quickly selected a year-old pig for the evening meal,
waited upon his guests carefully, and they all retired early to rest and
received the good gift of sleep.