beggar hither. I should like to speak with him. It may be that he
has seen Odysseus, for he seems to have wandered far."
The swineherd took the queen's message to the stranger, but he begged
that he might not comply with the request until the suitors had left
the house. "I knew Odysseus well," he said, "but I dread these violent
men. Therefore, ask Penelope to let me wait until sunset when I can
sit by the fire and warm myself, and tell her all that she shall
inquire."
The queen thought the beggar's answer was a prudent one, and was
satisfied. At sundown the swineherd left the palace to return to his
hut. The suitors kept up the revel until late in the evening, and
then went home leaving Odysseus in his own palace.
CHAPTER XLIII
CONVERSATION OF ODYSSEUS AND PENELOPE
After the revellers had left the palace, Odysseus said to his son:
"Now is the time to hide all these weapons where the suitors cannot
find them, when their hour of need shall come. If they ask for them
tell them that the arms were losing their polish in these smoky rooms,
and also that the gods had warned thee to remove them since some
dispute might arise in which the wooers heated with wine and anger
would attack each other."
Telemachos at once obeyed. He called his old nurse to see that the
servants were in their own apartments and the doors of the palace
made fast while he removed the arms to an upper room. Then he retired
to rest, leaving Odysseus sitting by the hearth in the large
dining-hall awaiting the arrival of Penelope. She was not long in
coming. Her maids placed a chair, inlaid with silver and ivory, for
her near the fire, and threw a large woolly rug before it for her
feet.
The queen, stately as a goddess, took her seat there while her maids
carried away the dishes and food left by the suitors. They heaped
great logs on the fire. Then Melantho, an impudent maid, said to
Odysseus: "Art thou here, thou beggar! Begone, or I will take a
firebrand and drive thee out!" Odysseus rejoined: "Such is the fate
of beggars. They must wander far and take abuse. It is true that I
am ragged, but I am not unclean. Once I was rich and had my own palace.
I often gave to beggars and I had many servants. But it pleased the
gods to make me poor. Thou pert woman, surely the queen, Penelope,
never taught thee, and thy bad conduct will not escape the eye of
Telemachos."
Penelope saw and heard all this and the high-breeding of the beggar
did not escape her keen notice. She turned to the saucy maid and said:
"Shame on thee, thou bold creature. Thou dost know full well that
this stranger has remained here at my own request, that I might inquire
if he knows aught of my husband."
Then the queen asked her matron to spread a rug for the poor old man.
Odysseus sat down and Penelope began to question him. "Who art thou,
stranger?" she asked. "Where is thy home? Whence hast thou come?"
Odysseus answered her: "My gracious queen, I am the son of a king
and I come from Crete. I am a man of sorrows and have wandered far.
But do not ask me of these things, for I do not wish to lament over
unhappy days.
"Strong ties of friendship bind me to Odysseus. Twenty years ago,
when he went to Troy, I received him as a guest in my house, because
contrary winds and a stormy sea had thrown him upon my island. I led
him to my palace and gave him the best of food and wine. Twelve days
he remained with me, both himself and his companions. On the
thirteenth a favorable wind arose and they went on to Troy."
Odysseus kept on inventing one tale after another, such as might seem
probable, and the tears rolled down Penelope's cheeks. Odysseus could
have wept, too, when he saw how deep her loyalty and affection were
rooted. The lady had no doubt of the genuine character of her guest,
but she cautiously strove to prove the truth of his words, so she
questioned him yet farther, asking him to describe Odysseus and his
comrades--how he looked and what dress he wore.
Odysseus responded truthfully: "He wore a cloak of purple wool, with
two clasps of gold, hand-wrought. The pattern showed a hound
struggling with a spotted fawn, intent to kill it. Besides this he
had on a delicate tunic of shining cloth, spun, doubtless, by his
queen, for the women gazed at it in wonder.
"He was accompanied by a herald named Eurybates, a hunchback with
a dark complexion, but Odysseus seemed to value him above all the
rest, for he was a clever and a faithful man."
When Odysseus had finished speaking, Penelope exclaimed, with a burst
of passionate grief: "Stranger, I was moved to pity when I first saw
thee in my halls, but thou shalt be held as an honored guest from
this time forward. Thou hast spoken truly of the garments, for I shaped
the folds in them myself and put on the clasps. Alas! I shall never
see him again. It was a cruel fate that took him from me."
Odysseus was deeply moved, and tried to speak consoling words. "Weep
not," he said, "for grief will wear away thy beauty and thy health.
Odysseus lives and will return. I met him lately on his homeward way,
laden with wealth which he had gathered in the country of the
Thesprotians.
"He will come alone, for his comrades were destroyed off the island
of Trinacria, for they had slain the oxen of the Sun. He would have
arrived here before me, only that he stopped to consult an oracle
whether to come secretly or not. He is safe and will not long remain
away from thee. Here I take the great oath that Odysseus will come
within a month."
The wise queen answered him: "I would that thy words might prove true,
O stranger, but the thought is deep in my heart that Odysseus is no
more. My maidens, lead this guest to the bath and spread a couch for
him where he can rest quietly, and to-morrow he shall share the morning
meal with Telemachos."
Then said Odysseus to her: "Fair queen, I care not for fine covers
and soft beds. Wilt thou permit me to lie down on the floor near the
fire, as I am used to do? I care not for the bath, either, unless
there is some old servant who knows how to give a foot-bath to aged
feet."
CHAPTER XLIV
EURYCLEIA RECOGNIZES ODYSSEUS
Penelope admired the prudence of the poor old beggar, and called
Eurycleia, bidding her to bathe the stranger's feet as carefully as
if they were the feet of her master. The nurse filled a bright brass
basin with warm water and knelt down to execute the command of her
royal mistress, saying: "My poor Odysseus! My heart is sore for him.
Who knows but he may be wandering like thee, weary and footsore!
Perhaps he is an object of ridicule among serving-women who will not
suffer him to come near the bath.
"Stranger, I will wash thy feet for the sake of my absent master,
and to please that gracious queen who has commanded me to do so; but
most of all because thou art in need of it through suffering. Surely
I never saw anyone who bore so close a resemblance to my lord as thou."
Odysseus replied: "It has often been said that I look like Odysseus
by those who knew us both, O aged dame." Then he turned his feet away
from the light, for fear that Eurycleia would recognize a scar and
discover who he was. But it was in vain, for as soon as she passed
her hand over it she knew it. It was a scar that came where a wild
boar had once torn the flesh when Odysseus was hunting on Parnassos.
The old servant was so overcome with joy that she laughed and cried
at the same time. She let his foot fall against the basin, which was
upset with a loud clang, while the water was spilled over the floor.
She laid her hand on Odysseus' beard, and said in a voice trembling
with emotion: "Dear son, thou art Odysseus. I knew thee the moment
that I touched the scar."
Then Eurycleia turned to tell Penelope that her lord had come, for
the queen had not seen the upsetting of the basin. But Odysseus laid
his finger on the old servant's lips, and with his left hand drew
her closer and said: "Be silent. Let no one know that I have come,
for I must slay the suitors by stratagem. If they know that I am here
they will prevent me and destroy us all."
The loyal handmaid arose to bring another basin of water. She bathed
his feet and anointed them. And he moved to the fire and took his
seat, while he pulled his ragged garments over the scar to hide it,
lest it might betray him.
CHAPTER XLV
PENELOPE'S DREAM
When Odysseus was again seated by the hearth, Penelope began to speak
to him further: "Stranger, one more question I must ask thee, and
then I will leave thee, for the hour of sleep is near. All day long
I keep at my tasks to try to forget my grief, for the gods have visited
me with sore misfortunes. I teach my maids to spin and weave and care
for the palace. But when night comes strange dreams flit through my
mind, and new sorrows spring up in my heart.
"There are from day to day assembled in my home all the young men
of the best families of Ithaca and the neighboring isles, who insist
that I shall choose one of them for a husband. But as I am not willing
to comply, they remain in my house and destroy my property. I am not
able to drive them out, and do not know how to help myself. Listen
to a dream I had the other night. Perhaps thou canst explain it to
me.
"I dreamt that there was a flock of twenty geese in my court-yard,
and they picked corn out of the water and ate greedily. Suddenly an
eagle swooped down upon them from above and broke their necks and
tore them to pieces. Then he flew off, leaving them scattered about
the yard. I bitterly bewailed the loss of my geese, and so did my
maids. After awhile the eagle came back and, perching on the roof,
said to me: 'Take courage, Penelope, this is no dream. The geese are
the wooers, but I, the eagle, am thy husband, and I have come to kill
those impudent robbers that vex thee.'"
Odysseus answered her: "The eagle gave the right explanation, O lady.
The dream could not have had any other meaning. Odysseus will come
and slay the wooers, and not one shall escape him."
"Dreams do not always come to pass," rejoined Penelope, "but I
heartily wish that this might be fulfilled. Be patient a little longer,
for I have one thing more to say. To-morrow is a decisive day, for
it may be the one that drives me from the palace. I shall propose
a contest for my hand. Twenty years ago Odysseus set up twelve axes,
one behind the other, in the court. Through the rings of the handles
he shot an arrow, although he stood at a great distance. I will
challenge the suitors to take the same bow and send the arrow through
the rings as Odysseus did. He who succeeds shall lead me forth a bride,
to his own palace."
Odysseus responded: "Do not let the contest be put off. Odysseus will
be at hand a long time before any of the suitors can bend his bow."
"Thy words, O stranger, are comforting," said Penelope. "I could sit
and listen to thee all night. But as thou art in need of rest, I will
retire to my apartment, and the maids shall spread rugs before the
fire for thee." Penelope, having said this, went up to her room, her
maids following her, and she wept, thinking of her royal lord, until
Athena closed her eyes in sleep.
CHAPTER XLVI
ATHENA ENCOURAGES ODYSSEUS
Odysseus was lying on his bed, but he could not sleep, for he was
thinking how he might destroy the suitors. Suddenly Athena appeared
to him, and said: "Odysseus, why dost thou lie awake? Thou art in
thine own house and near thy wife and child." "All this is true, O
goddess," answered Odysseus. "But I am only one and the suitors are
many. How shall I, single-handed, meet this multitude of men?"
"Sleep in peace, Odysseus," returned Athena. "To lie awake saps the
life and strength of men. The time has come when all thy sufferings
shall end. The gods protect thee and they are stronger than armed
warriors." Thus spoke the goddess, and, closing his eyelids with sweet
slumber, she flew up to Olympos.
While Odysseus was sleeping, his wife had waked, and, sitting on her
bed, addressed a prayer to Artemis: "Rather let me die, O goddess,
than become the wife of any other man than Odysseus. The very thought
vexes me day and night. Just now I had a dream. I seemed to see Odysseus
just as he was when he started out for Troy. I was so glad that I
could not believe that it was not a reality."
She prayed aloud, and soon daylight appeared. Odysseus heard the voice
and it filled his heart with anxiety. He arose and hastily placed
the rugs on which he had slept on a bench in the palace. Then he went
out into the open air. Telemachos had risen also, and he went forth
to the market-place. Eurycleia called the servants together and
ordered them to be quick about their work, for a festival was to be
celebrated that day and the wooers would come early.
There was a busy time. The menials obeyed, some bringing water, some
sweeping the floors, others polishing the benches and covering them
with royal tapestries. The servants of the suitors came also and cut
wood for the fires. Eumaios arrived early, driving three fat hogs.
He saluted Odysseus and asked him if he were well treated by the
suitors, or if they continued to scoff at him. Odysseus answered him:
"May the gods punish the ruthless men who perpetrate such wrongs in
a stranger's home." While they were talking together the goatherd
joined him, and repeated the sneers and abuse of the preceding day.
Odysseus took no notice of it, except to shake his head as one who
plans direful things.
The master herdsman now came along with a fat heifer and choice goats
for the day's banquet. Offering his hand to Odysseus, he exclaimed:
"Hail to thee, stranger! A long and happy life be thine! Methinks
my master must be clothed in rags and wandering like thee. Thou dost
bring his image to my mind. I hope he may return and drive these suitors
out of his palace." "Be sure that he will come, herdsman; thou wilt
see him with thine own eyes, when he slays the ruthless suitors, and
then thou wilt know who is lord of the palace," replied Odysseus.
The suitors were talking apart from the rest and conspiring to take
the life of Telemachos, when an eagle wheeled over their heads,
tearing a timid dove. With hearts foreboding ill at this omen, they
went into the hall to begin the banquet, while the herdsman went his
way first saying, "When Odysseus comes, call on me, and I will show
how strong my arm is to deal a blow at his enemies."
CHAPTER XLVII
THE LAST BANQUET OF THE SUITORS
The suitors had now arrived in the great banquet-hall and taken their
places at the tables. The servants brought bread and meat and placed
it before them, while Melanthios filled their goblets with wine.
Telemachos placed Odysseus near the door, and gave him an ample supply
of food, saying: "Eat and drink, stranger, without fear. None of the
wooers shall assail thee, for I will stand guard."
One of the suitors, an evil-minded man with a rich father, said to
his companions: "My friends, this stranger enjoys his meal greatly.
It does not become any one of us to begrudge good things to the guests
of Telemachos. I, too, wish to give him a present, which he in turn
may bestow on some other beggar." With that he seized an ox's foot
and hurled it at Odysseus.
Odysseus dodged it by holding down his head. Telemachos grew angry
and rebuked the suitor in these words: "Ktesippos, thou hast escaped
death. It is well that this stranger avoided thy blow, for if thou
hadst struck him, my sharp spear would have pinned thee to the wall,
and thy father would have prepared a burial instead of a wedding for
thee."
Dreadful forebodings of woe began to fill the hearts of the suitors.
Their speech became rambling and they laughed insanely. They ate and
drank like men deranged.
Penelope now entered the great hall and took her seat upon a
magnificent throne, right in front of the suitors. She heard the
maudlin laughter and saw the gluttonous feasting as the revel ran
high. Then Athena came and moved her mind to immediate action, and
she went up to the farthest chamber with her maids, where the arms
of Odysseus were stored. His bow and deadly arrows, so long unused,
were there, with rich treasures and perfumed garments. She wept as
she took the bow from its case and went out, followed by the servants,
who carried down costly prizes, such as Odysseus gave when festivals
with games were held in his halls.
She took her place, standing before the suitors, and addressed them:
"Ye noble suitors, listen to my words. Cease to eat and drink and
come to the contest. Too long have ye lived at my table, giving as
an excuse that ye would win me as a bride. The suitor who can bend
this bow and send this arrow through these twelve axes shall claim
me as his wife, and I will follow him to his home."
Penelope called to the swineherd and the herdsmen to place the rings
and carry the bow to the suitors. Each in turn tried to do so, but
were overcome with grief at seeing their master's weapons, and laid
them down.
Antinoös lifted up his voice and chid them: "Ye foolish peasants,
must your eyes flow with tears at this feast? Bring the bow or leave
the palace. Methinks we shall have hard work to bend this bow, for
none of us have such sinews as had Odysseus."
Then Telemachos took up the bow and laughed. "I must have lost my
wits," he said, "for I am glad that this contest will take place.
There is not such another woman in Greece as my stately mother. Make
no delay then. I long to see the man who can bend the bow. I would
that I might bend it myself and win the right to keep her in her own
home. Then I should be spared the grief of losing her."
Telemachos took off his cloak and laid his sword aside. He placed
the axes in a row and took the bow and made three attempts to bend
it, but did not succeed. He would have accomplished the feat if he
had made one more effort, but Odysseus made a sign to him to desist,
so he set the bow against the wall and went back to his seat.
The first suitor to make the trial had never been pleased with the
insolence of the wooers, and had great foresight and was called their
seer. His hands were soft and delicate. He could not bend the bow,
but he predicted that it would be the instrument to bring death to
the whole crew.
Antinoös reproached him for his prophecies, and ordered Melanthios
to light a fire and bring a slice of fat, that the bow might be warmed
and oiled to make it pliable. They warmed it and rubbed it with oil,
and tried to bend it. One after another, each in turn, they made trials,
but all in vain.
In the meantime Odysseus went to the swineherd and the master of the
herds, who had displayed such loyalty. He said to them: "My friends,
what if Odysseus should come; would you take part with him, or join
the crowd of suitors? Speak truly." The two men answered, appealing
to the gods to bear witness, that they would stand by their master
to the end.
"Behold," said Odysseus, "I am the master that you love. I have come
to my own land after twenty years of suffering, and among all my
servants I hear none pray for my return save you two. And now that
you may surely recognize me I will show you the scar made by a boar
on Parnassos." He raised his ragged tunic for a moment and they looked
at the scar. They recognized their long-lost master, and threw their
arms around him and wept, and kissed his hands and feet.
Odysseus begged them to desist, lest the suitors should notice it
and discover him. And he instructed them to bring the bow to him and
place it in his hands, after all the wooers had failed to bend it.
And he told them to shut and lock the doors, so that the maid-servants
could not hear the groans of the dying men, for they might run out
and warn the town.
Eurymachos and Antinoös were the last to make trial of the bow.
Eurymachos sat before the fire and warmed it on both sides, but he
could not bend it. He was vexed beyond measure, and said: "It is not
that I care for Penelope, for there are other women that would suit
me just as well, but if we are weaker than Odysseus our sons will
hear of it in future times and be ashamed of us."
Antinoös took up the word: "Eurymachos," he said, "this is a day held
sacred to Apollo, god of the silver bow. He should have no rival.
Let the bow alone, lest the god be angry and leave the axes standing
in a row. No one will dare to touch them. Let Melanthios bring goats,
and we will offer up sacrifices to the god and invite his aid. Then
we shall have strength to win in this struggle."
CHAPTER XLVIII
ODYSSEUS BENDS THE BOW
The suitors approved the words of Antinoös. The heralds filled their
cups with wine, and the wise Odysseus waited until they had drunk
to their hearts' content.
Then he lifted up his voice and said: "Hear me, ye suitors of Penelope,
while I advise that you defer this trial of your strength until another
day. Apollo will then bestow the power on one of you to triumph over
the others. Let me practise with the bow to-day, to see if I have
any of my youthful strength, or if I have lost it through suffering
and want."
The suitors were moved with desperate fear and anger. "Thou senseless
beggar," said Antinoös, "is it not enough that we allow thee to sit
at a banquet with the proudest men alive? Thou art drunk and thy mind
wanders. What would come to thee if thou shouldst bend this bow? Verily
we would sell thee for a slave to the great enemy of men."
Then said Penelope: "Indeed, Antinoös, it is not large-minded to deny
this poor old man the pleasure of trying the bow.
"Dost thou think I would go forth as the wife of a beggar? Nay, the
stranger has no hope of that. Do not let your minds be teased with
such thoughts."
Eurymachos, the leading suitor, rejoined: "Our care is not that thou
wilt wed this man. But we fear the ridicule of the people, who will
say, 'These are great men, indeed, who are outdone in strength and
skill by a miserable old beggar.' It would be a never-ending shame
to us."
"Nay, Eurymachos," replied Penelope, "real shame comes on him who
robs a good man and brings trouble to his family. This beggar claims
to be of good blood, and his arm is sinewy. Let him try the bow. I
make a solemn promise that if Apollo grant him the honor of bending
the bow, I shall do no less than bestow upon him a tunic and a cloak,
and sandals, and I will give him a sword with which he can defend
himself. Then he can go where he likes."
Telemachos saw that the great crisis was at hand. "Mother," he said,
"it rests with me to give the bow or withhold it. Such matters belong
to men, and in this palace the authority is mine. Take thy maids,
then, and retire to thy apartments, and ply the tasks most suitable
to women."
The queen recognized her son's wisdom, and withdrew with her maids
to the upper rooms. There she wept for the beloved monarch, her absent
lord, until Athena sent a soothing sleep to comfort her.
In the meanwhile the swineherd took up the bow and undertook to carry
it to Odysseus. The suitors shouted their disapproval, and he became
confused and set it down. Telemachos called out above the clamor and
gave command for him to carry it along. The suitors laughed to hear
the young man's voice ring out like a trumpet and drown all other
noises. Odysseus took the bow and turned it from side to side,
examining it in every part. Telemachos, in a low tone, bade Eurycleia
make fast all the doors, and the master herdsman tied the gates of
the outer court with a ship's cable.
The suitors grew uneasy, and one of them said to another: "See the
beggar, how he turns the bow this way and that! He would have us think
that he is an expert in the use of bows." Odysseus stretched the cord
and made it fast from end to end. He put it to his ear to try its
tenseness as a minstrel tunes his harp. It sang like a bird. With
perfect ease he drew the cord and let the arrow fly. It screamed like
a swallow and went through every ring from the first one to the last.
The suitors turned pale. Zeus sent a loud thunder-clap and Odysseus
rejoiced at the omen. He sprang to the threshold with his bow in hand
and a quiver full of arrows at his side, and shouted: "The contest
is ended. Now I will choose another target."
Antinoös had just put a golden goblet to his lips, and was about to
drink the delicious wine. An arrow pierced his throat. He dropped
the cup and fell to the ground, and as he fell his feet struck the
table. The bread and meat were scattered in every direction over the
floor. The suitors sprang to their feet and looked for the weapons
on the walls. The spears were gone, and the lances and all the armor.
Even yet they were blind to the fact that the stranger had slain
Antinoös purposely. They poured out threats. "Fool," they said, "what
art thou doing? How couldst thou be so careless! Thou hast slain the
noblest man in Ithaca. Dogs and vultures shall devour thee. Never
again shalt thou be allowed a trial with the bow."
"Dogs," cried Odysseus, "ye little thought your chief would ever
return from Troy, and therefore ye have robbed me of my wealth and
vexed my wife with offers of marriage, regardless of the laws of god
and man. But now the hour of your death has come and your doom is
certain."
The suitors trembled and looked for some open door through which to
fly for safety. Only Eurymachos took courage to make a defence. "If
thou art indeed Odysseus, thou hast good cause to complain of wrongs,"
he said. "But thou hast slain the leader, Antinoös, who prompted us
to do these wrongs. He had no thought of love for thy wife. He wanted
to gain thy land and rule over thy people. Spare the rest of us and
we will make ample restitution."
A dreadful frown spread over Odysseus' face, and he replied:
"Eurymachos, I will not take thy wealth nor will I spare thy life.
Now choose between the two, either to fight or fly from death. Be
sure no suitor shall escape my vengeance."
The suitors all grew faint with fear. Eurymachos cried out to them:
"Ye Ithacans, this man will stand there at the door and shoot us all
down one by one. Out with your swords! Hold up the tables for shields,
and rush upon him, all of you, at once. Drive him out of the gates,
and then hurry through the city and give a general alarm."
With a fearful shout Eurymachos then drew his own sword and sprang
toward Odysseus. A deadly arrow from the famous bow met him and he
fell upon the table, upsetting it, and he went spinning round with
it on the paved floor, while the food and cup of wine were scattered
all about. His head struck upon a stone and his feet against a chair.
Death closed his eyes.
Another suitor drew his sword and rushed toward Odysseus. Telemachos
met him with a lance and slew him. Then Telemachos sprang to his
father's side and said: "My father, I will bring thee javelins and
a shield, and I will arm myself and the swineherd and the master
herdsmen." "Make haste, my son," responded Odysseus, "for I have but
few arrows left."
Telemachos hastened to the room where the arms had been stored and
clothed himself in brass. His loyal herdsmen also put on splendid
armor, and they hastened back to Odysseus with a complete outfit for
him. The chief had used up his arrows, and now he dressed himself
in armor and took the lances. Just then he perceived that the suitors
had by some means been supplied with armor also. He called to
Telemachos, who had left the door ajar leading to the apartment where
the arms had been placed for safety.
Melanthios, the goatherd, had sneaked in and was slyly bringing
shields and helmets down to them. Telemachos saw him, and gave orders
to the herdsmen to lock the doors of the armory and secure the spy.
They hastened to the armory and found Melanthios, who had come back
for a second load. They cast him on the floor and tied his arms down
so that he could not move them. Then they took a rope and made two
loops in it and swung him safely to the timbers in the roof, saying:
"Melanthios, thou hast a soft bed, and it is where thou canst keep
watch. In the morning thou canst drive thy goats to the suitors'
banquet." They locked the doors and left him there and took their
places at Odysseus' side.
CHAPTER XLIX
DEATH OF THE SUITORS
The combat grew more stubborn. Athena, in the guise of Mentor, stood
near Odysseus and cheered him on. "Woe unto thee, Mentor, if thou
dost dare to help Odysseus," cried one of the suitors. "We will not
spare thee when we have slain him. More yet, we will drive thy wife
and children out of Ithaca and keep thy wealth." The goddess, in great
anger at this audacity, turned toward Odysseus and said: "Thou art
not so swift and terrible in fighting, O Chieftain, as thou wert before
the walls of Troy."
Athena said this to spur Odysseus on, but she did not remain at his
side. She changed herself into a swallow and perched upon a rafter
of the great hall, to put his prowess to a greater test. When she
had gone, the suitors grew braver and threw their spears at Odysseus
thick and fast. But their aim was uncertain, and they struck pillars
and panels and the wall, for the goddess turned their shafts aside.
Odysseus and Telemachos and their faithful servants hurled their
lances, and the weapons always hit the mark. The cowherd struck
Ktesippos in the breast and exclaimed, as the suitor fell: "Ktesippos,
I give thee this spear in exchange for the ox's foot which thou didst
throw at Odysseus as a gift when he asked alms of thee."
Four of the wooers fell to the ground at once and the remainder
retreated to the farthest corner of the hall. Still they rallied for
another onset. Odysseus rushed in upon them and cut them down right
and left, while Athena from above shook her fearful ægis. The
surviving wooers were stricken with terror and ran about like a herd
of oxen chased by a swarm of gadflies. Only the minstrel Phemios and
the herald Medon were spared. Both of them had served the suitors
most unwillingly and had secretly advised with Telemachos.
Odysseus searched up and down the hall to see if any suitor could
be found alive. As fishes lie upon the beach when they have been poured
out from the nets upon the sand, so lay the multitude of wooers. Not
one survived.
Then Odysseus called Eurycleia and bade her summon all of the impudent
and unfaithful servants who had taken sides with the suitors. They
came into the hall and with loud laments took up the slain and carried
them out as they were commanded, and placed them in a walled court.
Then they cleaned the hall with water and sponges, and polished the
wood and set everything in order.
When this was done, they were driven like a flock of birds into a
narrow place outside and hung to a beam to die wretchedly. Melanthios
also was brought down from the armory and cast among the dogs to die.
The palace now was purged with the smoke of sulphur, and the air was
purified with incense. The loyal servants crowded about their
chieftain and welcomed him with glad salutations. They kissed his
hands and face, and wept and laughed for joy. Odysseus was deeply
moved and sobbed aloud.
CHAPTER L
EURYCLEIA ANNOUNCES THE RETURN OF ODYSSEUS TO PENELOPE
Eurycleia, with an exulting heart, now hurried up the lofty stairs
and stood by the queen in her royal chamber. "Penelope," she cried,
"my child, Odysseus has come. Thy husband is here, and he has slain
the whole crew of insolent suitors who squandered his riches and
scoffed at his son." Prudent Penelope answered her: "Eurycleia, thou
art mad. The gods have taken thy wits away. Do not mock me with such
idle tales. If any other maid had come on such an errand and waked
me from sleep, I would have dismissed her with anger."
"Nay, dear child, I do not mock thee; Odysseus has come and is now
sitting by the hearth. The beggar whom they scoffed at in the hall
was Odysseus. Telemachos knew it, but dared not tell thee until the
suitors should be slain."
Penelope rose from her couch and seized Eurycleia by the hands.
"Tell me, dear nurse," she said, "tell me truly, if in fact my husband
has returned, how was it possible that he alone could destroy such
a multitude of haughty men!" "I did not see it," responded the old
nurse, "but I heard the groans of the dying men as I sat with the
other maids in our own rooms. The doors were locked to bar us from
the hall. When Telemachos called me, I found Odysseus surrounded by
the slain. When we had washed the hall and purged it with smoke and
purified the air with incense, thy husband ordered me to call thee.
Follow me now, my child, that your heart may be gladdened after it
has been oppressed so long with sorrows."
Penelope replied again: "Nay, I cannot believe it. The gods may have
slain the suitors under the guise of Odysseus, but he has perished
far away from home and never will return."
"My daughter," said the aged nurse, "what words are these? I
recognized Odysseus myself by the well-known scar made by the boar's
tusk. I turned to tell thee, but he laid his finger on my lips and
said: 'Be silent. Let no one know that I am here until the suitors
all are slain, or else they will destroy me.' Now follow me. I pledge
my life that I speak the truth."
Penelope descended from her royal bower uncertain how to meet her
lord. She crossed the threshold and sat down at the hearth, opposite
Odysseus, who was seated beside a stately column in the blazing light
of the fire. He did not lift his eyes to look at his wife, but waited
for her to make the way open for him to speak. Penelope was speechless.
She looked at her husband and seemed sometimes to recognize him, and
then the resemblance faded out and he did not seem at all like
Odysseus.
Telemachos became impatient and spoke to her, chiding her. "Mother,"
he said, "thou art hard-hearted and unkind. Any other woman would
extend a hearty welcome to her husband after he had suffered so many
years of hardship, wandering in foreign lands. Take thy place at my
father's side and question him. Verily thy heart is harder than a
stone." "My son," answered Penelope, "I seem to have lost the power
to speak. I am dazed and cannot even command myself to look at him.
If this is indeed Odysseus we soon shall know each other, for there
are secrets known to us two only."
Odysseus smiled and said: "My son, be patient, and let thy mother
put me to the test. She does not know me in these rags, but she will
soon be convinced that I am Odysseus. It is more important now to
prevent the news that the suitors have been slain from spreading.
They have friends all over the city. Who knows but what they may rise
up against us. I deem it best that we bathe and put on fresh garments,
and let the servants do the same.
"And let the minstrel bring his lyre and strike up such music as
prompts the dance, so that those living near us may report that a
wedding is being celebrated. Then we may safely venture forth and
see what is to be done."
Thus spoke the monarch, and his commands were gladly obeyed.
Telemachos and the servants went their way to the baths and arrayed
themselves in splendid clothing. The bard took his harp and woke the
pleasing strains, and the palace halls resounded with mirth and
dancing.
After awhile those outside were heard to say: "Shame on Penelope!
She weds a second time, and does not even know whether her absent
lord is dead or living. She might have waited for him to return."
Meantime Odysseus followed a servant to the bath, and when he had
been bathed and anointed he put on garments suitable for a king. Athena
gave him a more majestic appearance, and caused his hair to fall in
heavy curls, like the petals of the hyacinth. When he came back to
the great hall and stood before the queen, he looked like an immortal.
"Lady," he said, "the gods have given thee a stubborn heart. Any other
woman would have given a glad welcome to her husband after he had
been absent twenty years." To this Penelope responded: "Not so; I
have no pride nor a cold heart. But I should be unworthy of my lord
if I accepted a stranger without putting him to the proof. I remember
well when thou didst go to Troy. Thou didst command Eurycleia to carry
thy massive bed out into the open air and cover it with fleeces."
"Nay, woman, no living man could perform such a feat. I built that
massive frame myself. It was a tall olive-tree that grew within one
of the courts. Round it I built a royal bower, and, cutting off the
great limbs of the tree, shaped them and fastened them to the trunk.
In this wise I built the frame, and no one could move it without
dragging the tree out by the roots. That is a secret known only to
thee and me."
Penelope had put the final test, and knew that this was surely Odysseus.
She rose from where she sat and ran to him and threw her arms about
his neck and kissed his brow. "Odysseus, do not be angry with me,"
she said. "Many are they who have tried to practise deception upon
me. Thou hast made me believe in thee." These words pierced Odysseus'
heart and brought him the relief of tears. He pressed his faithful
wife to his bosom again and again.
CHAPTER LI
ODYSSEUS VISITS HIS FATHER
Early the next morning Odysseus dressed himself in his splendid armor
and bade his son and servants accompany him to the farm. They took
their weapons and went forth, Odysseus leading the way. It was not
long before they came to the green fields which were cared for by
Laertes. He had built his house there, and surrounded it with cabins,
where his servants slept.
Odysseus was anxious to know whether his father would recognize him
or not, so he said to one of the men: "Go into the house and call
my father. Let me see whether he will know me, after I have been so
long away." Placing his weapons in their hands, he went down into
the orchard. There were no servants about, for they had all gone off
to gather thorns with which to build a fence.
There Odysseus saw his father working around a young tree that he
had just planted. He was clad in old, coarse clothes that had been
repeatedly patched, a goat-skin cap, and gloves to protect his hands
from the briers.
It was pitiful to see the want of hope in the old man's face as he
moved about brooding over his troubles. Odysseus was uncertain
whether he should throw his arms about his father's neck and clasp
him to his heart and kiss him, or whether it were better to question
him.
He approached Laertes gently and, having greeted him, said: "My friend,
thou art a skilful farmer. Every fig and vine and pear and olive has
been carefully trained. But no one seems to care for thee. Thy master
treats thee badly, for thou art ill-clad and unkempt. An old man
deserves better things. Thy face does not look like the face of a
servant. Indeed one might take thee for a king. Now tell me, who owns
this orchard? And tell me also if this land is Ithaca. I desire to
learn what became of Odysseus, the son of Laertes. He was once my
guest and one that I made most welcome."
Laertes wept. "Thou art indeed in Ithaca, O stranger," he said. "But
thou dost seek in vain for Odysseus. The land is full of wicked men,
and there is no host to load thee with generous gifts, a recompense
for thy hospitality. Oh, tell me of my son; when did he lodge with
thee? Woe is me! The beasts and birds have long since devoured him.
No mother folded his shroud about him, nor did his father or his loyal
wife weep upon his bier. Tell me, what is thy name? Where is thy ship?
How didst thou come here?"
Odysseus was overcome with pity, and invented a tale to prepare
Laertes for his unexpected coming. Then he clasped the dear old man
in his arms and kissed his trembling hands, and said: "I am thy son,
my father; I am the Odysseus of whom thou dost inquire. Here is the
scar given me by the wild boar as I hunted on Parnassos. And for further
proof I will tell thee of the orchard-trees thou gavest me when I
was a child. There were thirteen pear-trees, forty fig-trees, and
ten apple-trees. Forbear thy weeping and cease to mourn. I have slain
the suitor-robbers who were destroying my riches, and I have taken
possession of my house again."
Overwhelmed with joy, the old king trembled from head to foot. The
sturdy chieftain, Odysseus, saw it and drew him to his heart to keep
him from fainting, and held him there until his strength came back.
Then they went up to the house, where a supper had been prepared,
and Telemachos was waiting. Laertes went to the bath and came back
clad like a king. The grief had left his face, and he took on his
old majestic appearance. As they sat at the banquet, relating the
experiences of the past years, Dolius and his sons, the servants who
had gone in search of thorns, returned. Dolius recognized Odysseus
and seized him by the hand and saluted him with joyful greetings,
and his sons gathered round the chieftain eager to take his hand.
Meantime the souls of the suitors had gone down to the abode of Pluto.
Hermes led them, and they followed, crying and wailing like bats in
a dark cave. The shades of Achilles, Agamemnon, Ajax, and other heroes
saw them and constrained them to relate the mishaps that had brought
them there. Then Agamemnon's ghost responded: "Fortunate Odysseus!
His fame shall last forever, and poets shall sing the praises of
Penelope in all the coming ages."
Ere Odysseus and Laertes had finished their feast, the news of the
dreadful death of the suitors spread over the city. The wooers had
many friends, and they came to the palace weeping and mourning, ready
to avenge their slaughter. Finding that Odysseus was not at home,
they proceeded to the market-place. The father of Antinoös arose and
lifted up his voice crying for vengeance, but Medon, the herald,
warned them that a god had taken part against them and that strife
would be useless.
Halitherses, a wise and reverend citizen, took up the word: "Ye men
of Ithaca," he said, "give ear to what I have to say. Odysseus was
not the cause of your misfortunes, but you, yourselves. Ye would not
check the insolence of the suitors, even when Mentor bade you do it.
Contend not with Odysseus nor bring down his wrath upon us."
The Ithacans were now divided against themselves. Half of them took
up arms to make war on Odysseus, and started for his father's house.
In this adversity Athena did not forget her favorite chief, but armed
herself, and, taking on the guise of Mentor, placed herself at
Odysseus' side. A son of Dolius was first to announce that a crowd
was marching against them, when they all arose quickly, donned their
armor, and went outside.
Then Odysseus cried out to Telemachos: "Now is the moment to show
thyself a hero, my son. Do not bring disgrace upon thy forefathers,
for they are renowned over the whole world for their bravery."
Telemachos responded: "There is no danger of that, my dear father,
as I shall show thee presently." When Laertes heard this he rejoiced
and said: "This is a happy day for me. How blest am I to see my son
and grandson rivals in brave deeds."
Athena now drew near to the old king, and inspired him with youthful
courage. He swung his spear aloft and threw it at the leader of the
host and smote him to the earth. Odysseus and Telemachos rushed into
the fray with double-edged swords. They would have made an end of
the whole multitude, but Athena called aloud: "People of Ithaca, cease
from fighting! Retire at once from this contest and shed no more
blood."
The Ithacans grew pale with fright at hearing the voice of the goddess.
They threw down their weapons and ran toward the city in a panic of
fear. Odysseus shouted in triumph as he gave chase, but Zeus sent
a thunder-bolt down as a sign to Athena that she should restrain him.
The goddess called to him to cease the pursuit, and, taking the guise
of Mentor, she moved the minds of Odysseus and his enemies to mutual
pledges of peace and good-will.
VOCABULARY AND NOTES
A chil' les--also called Pelides, the hero of the "Iliad." He was
the son of Peleus (king of Phthia in Thessaly) and the sea-nymph,
Thetis.
Æ gē' an--a sea east of Greece.
Æ' o lus--the keeper of the winds, and king of Lipara, one of the
Æolian isles north of Sicily.
Ag a mem' non--leader of all the Greek chiefs in the Trojan war.
A' jax, or Aias--king of Salamis and cousin of Achilles. He was the
son of Telamon and was called Ajax the Greater.
Al ex ăn' drŏs--Paris, son of Priam.
Al kin' ŏ ös--king of Scheria, father of Nausicaä. He gave aid to
Odysseus when he was stranded on the island.
An tin' o ös--the boldest of the suitors.
Aph ro dī' te--Venus, the goddess of love and beauty. The island of
Kythera (Cythera), south of Greece, was the seat of her worship.
A pŏl' lo--the Sun-god, brother of Artemis and son of Zeus and Leto.
The island of Dēlos was his mythical birthplace and his principal
oracle was at Delphi.
Ar ca' di a, or Arkadia--the central district of the Peloponnesus.
A re' tè (ä rā' tā)--wife of Alkinoös and queen of Scheria.
Ar e thū' sa--a spring "where the swine of Eumaios ate 'abundance
of acorns and drank the black water.'" (See Baedeker's
Greece--Ithaca.) Arethusa was also the name of a water-nymph
inhabiting the spring.
Ar' gus, or Argos--the most celebrated dog known to fame. He belonged
to Odysseus.
Ar' te mis, or Diana--goddess of the moon and sister to Apollo. She
was called the hunter-goddess and the protector of animals.
As' phō del--a flower sacred to Persephone. The souls of the departed
were supposed to wander in meadows adorned with these beautiful
flowers.
A thē' nē, or Athena; Latin, Minerva--the patron deity of Athens.
The city was named for her. Ruskin calls her the "Queen of the Air,"
and explains her real significance as being the inspiration of the
soul, which corresponds to the physical vigor and life received by
inhaling the pure air. She is always called the "Goddess of Wisdom."
A' treus (a' trūse)--son of Pelops and father of Agamemnon.
Au' lis--a bay and town on the coast of Greece, about thirty miles
north of Athens. "The scanty ruins of Aulis lie on the rugged ridge
of rock which stretches into the sea between the two bays. The little
town never attained any importance, for its site was unfavorable for
the development of a community; but the two sheltered bays were
excellently adapted to be the rendezvous of a fleet." (See Baedeker's
Greece--Aulis.)
Cad' mus, or Kadmos--the founder of Thebes in Bœotia. According to
tradition, he came from Phœnicia and brought the alphabet to the
Greeks and the knowledge of working in metals.
Cal' chas, or Kalchas--a soothsayer. He offended Agamemnon by
declaring that the Greeks suffered from the wrath of the gods through
his offences.
Ca lyp' so--the goddess of Silence, daughter of Oceanos and Tethys,
and queen of Ogygia. She tried by every art to detain Odysseus on
his way home from Troy.
Cas san' dra--a daughter of Priam, and a prophetess, taken captive
in the Trojan war and awarded to Agamemnon.
Cha ryb' dis--a whirlpool off the coast of Sicily, a little to the
north of Messina.
Cir' cè, or Kirkē--the daughter of Hēlios, the Sun. She was an
enchantress who lived on the island Ææa. She infused into the vine
the intoxicating quality found in the juice of the grape. "The grave
of Circe used to be pointed out on the island of St. George, close
to Salamis." (See Baedeker's Greece--Salamis.)
Cy' clops, or Kyklops, also called Polyphemus--a monstrous one-eyed
giant. He was the son of Poseidon. It was due to his prayer for revenge
that Odysseus was kept so long wandering on the sea.
Cy the' ra, or Kythera--a rocky island lying south of Greece. It was
the seat of the worship of Aphrodite.
Dē' los--an island about sixty miles southeast of Athens. It is the
mythical birthplace of Apollo and Artemis.
Dē mod' o kos--a bard at the court of Alkinoös.
E' lis--a district and a city in the northwestern part of the
Peloponnesus. Like Sparta, the city had no walls. It was protected
by the sacred peace of Olympia.
The plain or precinct of Olympia is situated in the district of Elis.
Pyrgos is the nearest railroad station. "Olympia owed its high
importance throughout the entire Grecian world to the famous Olympic
games in honor of Zeus, which took place periodically for centuries.
Excavations there have brought to light many magnificent pieces of
sculpture, among them the Hermes of Praxiteles."
El pē' nor--one of the comrades of Odysseus. He fell from the roof
of Circè's palace and was killed.
E lys' ian--pertaining to Elysium, the abode of dead heroes and other
happy spirits.
Eu mai' os, or Eumæus--the swineherd of Odysseus.
Eu rō' tas--a river of southern Greece.
Eu ry' a los--a son of Alkinoös.
Eu ry clei' a (ū ry clī' ä)--the nurse of Odysseus and Telemachos.
Eu ry' lŏ chos, or Eurylochus--one of the companions of Odysseus.
Eu ry' ma chos, or Eurymachus--one of the suitors of Penelope.
Gor' gon--a monster of fearful aspect, a daughter of Phorkys and Ceto.
Her hair was entwined with serpents, her hands were of brass, her
body covered with scales, and anyone gazing upon her was turned into
stone.
Hel' en, or Helenē--a daughter of Tyndareus and Leda. She was the
wife of Menelaos and was always called "the most beautiful woman in
the world."
Hel' las--Greece, the land of the Hellenes.
Hē' li os--the god of the Sun.
He phais' tos, or Hephæstus--Vulcan. He was the blacksmith god, the
god of fire, and a worker in metals.
Hē' ra, Hērē--Juno, the wife of Zeus. She was worshipped as the queen
of heaven and was regarded as a model of womanly virtue. Argos was
the chief centre of the worship of Hera.
Hēr' a kles, or Hercules--a celebrated hero whose deeds are connected
with many localities. There is a cave near Nemea where he is said
to have slain a lion, not far from Stymphalos, where he put the Harpies
to flight, and Erymanthos, the scene of the killing of the Erymanthian
boar. There are traditions of his heroism connected with Thessaly
(Thebes) and Locris, also.
Her' bart--a German philosopher and pedagogian.
Her' mēs, or Mercury--the messenger of the gods, also their herald.
Her mi' ŏ ne--the daughter of Menelaos and Helen.
Ho' mer--the greatest of the Greek poets and author of the "Iliad"
and "Odyssey."
I' da--a mountain of Asia Minor, east of Troy.
Il' i ad--an epic poem, probably the greatest ever written, devoted
to the deeds of Achilles, and taken by the best scholars of modern
times as an interpretation of Greek life, Greek thought, and the Greek
religion.
I' no, or Leucothea--a daughter of Cadmus, a sea-nymph who helped
Odysseus by giving him an enchanted veil.
Iph i gen ei' a--the daughter of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra. "Ulrichs
has discovered the site of the famous Temple of Artemis or Diana,
where Agamemnon was on the point of sacrificing his daughter
Iphigeneia, before the departure of the Greek fleet for Troy." (See
Baedeker's Greece--Aulis.) To appreciate the character of this
famous woman one must read the "Iphigeneia in Aulis" of Euripides
and the "Iphigeneia in Tauris" of Goethe.
Ith' a ca, or Ithaka, Greek Ithákē--rocky island with an area of 37½
square miles and 12,500 inhabitants. "The world-wide fame of this
little island is of course due to the Homeric epic of the Odyssey,
in which the misfortunes and wiles, the wanderings, and home-coming
of Ulysses (Odysseus), King of Ithaca, have been handed down to
posterity in undying verse. Even if the person of the hero be relegated
to the realm of myths, it is indisputable that the descriptions of
the poem rest upon a more or less exact local knowledge; and this
is evident not only in the account of the situation and general
character of the island but also in numerous small details.... The
island became almost entirely depopulated in the middle ages, in
consequence of the raids of pirates and the Turkish wars, and did
not begin to recover until the Venetian epoch. But similar conditions
of life make the modern islanders resemble the ancient. To this day
the Ithacans are distinguished by their bold seamanship, their love
of home, and their hospitality." (See Baedeker's Greece--Ithaca.)
Ja' son, or Iason--the hero who undertook the expedition in search
of the Golden Fleece.
Ktes ip' pos, or Ctesippus--one of the suitors of Penelope.
Lak e dai' mon, or Lacedæmon--a district in southeastern Greece.
Sparta was its capital.
La ër' tes--the father of Odysseus.
La o' da màs--a son of Alkinoös.
La o' co ön, or Laokoön--a young priest of Apollo. He warned the
Trojans not to accept the wooden horse left by the Greeks and was
destroyed by a serpent.
Lo' tus--the Egyptian water-lily, also a tree. The lotus-eaters ate
of the fruit of the lotus-tree and forgot their homes and friends.
Me lăn' thi os--a servant of Odysseus, a goatherd who sympathized
with the suitors and served them.
Men e lā' os, or Menelaus--a son of Atreus and brother of Agamemnon.
Menelaos was the king of Sparta and husband of Helen.
Men' tor--the wise counsellor of Telemachos.
Mil tī' ä des--the hero of the battle of Marathon, fought 490 B.C.
In this battle the Greeks, numbering 10,000 men, conquered ten times
as many Persians.
Mi' nos--a son of Zeus and ruler over Crete.
Mo' ly--a fabulous plant having magic properties. It had a white
blossom and a black root.
My cē' næ, or Mykēnai--an ancient city of Argolis, in the northeastern
Peloponnesus. "Dr. Henry Schliemann, in 1876, made rich discoveries
there, weapons, ornaments, vessels of gold, silver and clay,"
skeletons "surrounded by bands of gold, golden shovels engraved with
battle-scenes," etc. (See Baedeker's Greece--Mycenæ and Athens.)
Myr' mĭ dŏns--a warlike people of Thrace, ruled by Achilles and taken
by him to the Trojan war as followers.
Nau sic' a ä--the daughter of Alkinoös.
Nē ŏp tŏl' ĕ mŏs--the son of Achilles.
Nĕs' tor--the leader of the warriors of Pylos, in southwestern Greece.
O ke' a nos, or Oceanus--the god of the river Oceanus, and son of
Heaven and Earth.
Od ys' seus (sūse), or Ulysses--the son of Laertes and Anticleia and
the hero of Homer's Odyssey. Being summoned to the Trojan war, he
feigned madness, and harnessed a mule and a cow to a plough and began
ploughing the sea-shore. Palamedes, to test his madness, placed his
infant son, Telemachos, in front of the plough, and Odysseus quickly
turned it aside. He became famous for his bravery and craft in the
war. He is looked upon by critics as the most perfect type of adult
Greek ideals.
[Illustration: ODYSSEUS FEIGNS MADNESS]
O lymp' os, or Olympus--a mountain in Thrace. The home of the gods.
O rĕs' tēs--the son of Agamemnon.
Par' is, or Alexandros--a son of Priam. At his birth there was a
prophecy that he would be the ruin of his country; hence he was cast
out upon Mount Ida, where he was found and rescued by a shepherd.
(See Introduction.)
Par nas' sos--a mountain near the north coast of the Corinthian Gulf.
It is 8,070 feet high and commands a view of Mount Olympos to the
north, Eubœa on the east, the islands of the Archipelago, the
Peloponnesus, and even Mount Korax.
Pat' rŏ klos, or Patroclus--the intimate friend of Achilles. His death
at the hands of the Trojans provoked Achilles to action.
Pei sis' tra tos--a son of Nestor.
Pē' leus--the father of Achilles.
Pel op on nēs' us--the peninsula of lower Greece.
Pe nel' o pe--the wife of Odysseus. The greatest heroine of ancient
romance.
Pĕr sĕph' ō ne, or Proserpine--daughter of Demeter (Ceres). "She was
the goddess of Spring and was allowed to spend two-thirds of the year
with her mother, while the remaining time she dwelt with her husband,
Hades, in his underground abode." Eleusis, twelve miles west of Athens,
was the centre of the worship of Demeter and Persephone. (See
Baedeker's Greece--Eleusis.)
Phai a' ki ans, or Phæacians--the people of the island of Scheria,
over whom Alkinoös ruled.
Phē' mi os--a bard at the court of Odysseus.
Phor' kys--the harbor where the Phæacians landed Odysseus on his
return to Ithaca. "The Bay of Vathy," says Baedeker, "disputes with
the Bay of Dexiá the honor of being the Harbour of Phorkys."
Plu' to, or Hades--a son of Rhea and Kronos and brother of Zeus and
Poseidon. Pluto was the ruler of the lower world.
Po sei' don, or Neptune--brother of Zeus and Hades. Poseidon was the
ruler of the seas and was the first to train and employ horses.
Pol y phe' mus, or Polyphemos or Cyclops--the son of Poseidon. He
was one of the Cyclops or Kyklops who were said to live in the heart
of burning mountains, particularly in Mount Ætna.
Pri' am, or Priamos--king of Troy and father of Paris.
Pro' teus--an ocean deity who lived at the bottom of the sea. He took
care of Poseidon's sea-calves and was famous for his evasiveness.
Py' los--a town (and bay) in the southwestern part of lower Greece.
It was the centre of Nestor's kingdom.
Sa' mos--"at present a little village on the island of Cephalonia,
the starting-point of the boats to Ithaca. In Homer, the _island_
of Cephalonia, or its east part, is called Samē; and in the latter
part of the Odyssey, Samos appears as belonging to the kingdom of
Ithaca." (Baedeker.) Samos, a large island near Asia Minor, is not
related to the Samos of the Odyssey.
Ska man' dros, or Scamander--a river of the Troad or plains of Troy.
Scher' i a--an island northwest of Greece. "The ancients identified
Corfù with the Phæacian island of Scheria, mentioned in the 'Odyssey,'
as ruled over by Alkinoös." (Baedeker.)
Skyl' la--a rock in southwestern Italy. It was supposed to be the
abode of a monster with many heads and hands.
Sky' ros--a large island east of Greece.
Sim' o is--a river in the Troad, and a branch of the Scamander.
Si' rens--daughters of Achelöos and a Muse, or, according to another
account, daughters of Phorkys. They failed to care for Persephone
when Pluto seized her to carry her off, and Demeter took revenge by
transforming them into monsters half woman and half bird.
Sis' y phos--a hero who secured a fountain to the citadel of Corinth
by betraying Zeus. Sisyphos was punished by being obliged to roll
stones up-hill in Hades.
Spar' ta--a town in the southern part of the Peloponnesus, on the
Eurotas. It was the chief city of Lacedæmon and the home of Menelaos
and Helen. It had no walls, but its acropolis was covered with temples.
Ancient Sparta was noted for the bravery of its people. At present
Sparta has about 3,600 inhabitants. There are few relics of its
ancient greatness.
Styx--a stream of water in central lower Greece. "The thread of water
descends from a huge cliff against a background of dark moss, which
has earned for the brook the name of 'Black Water.' At the bottom
of the cliff the water loses itself in a chaos of rocks. The ancients
saw in the icy coldness of the water and in the barren tract around
an image of the underworld." (See Baedeker's Greece.) To swear by
the Styx was to take "the great oath of the gods."
Tan' ta los--a king of Phrygia punished by the gods for treachery
and for cruelty to his son. He was doomed to suffer from hunger and
thirst while standing close to food and water which he could not reach.
Tē lĕ' ma chos--the son of Odysseus and Penelope.
Ten' e dos--an island in the neighborhood of Troy or Ilium.
Them is' to kles--a great statesman of Athens, and a leader of the
Greeks in the Persian war when the Greeks won the battle of Salamis.
The' seus (Thē' sūse)--a son of Ægeus and Æthra. Like his counterpart
Herakles, Theseus performed wonderful deeds, and finally became
ruler of Athens.
Thes' sa ly--a large province of northern Greece.
Thĕ' tis--a sea-nymph, the mother of Achilles.
Ti res' ias, or Teiresias--a Theban seer. He retained his
consciousness after death, and Odysseus descended into Hades to
consult with him before he could reach Ithaca.
Troy, Ilios, or Ilium--a city of Asia Minor and the scene of the Trojan
war. Dr. Schliemann has identified the city with Hissarlik, and in
his excavations there found many evidences of the war, such as spears,
helmets, etc.
Zeus, or Jupiter--a son of Kronos and Rhea. His abode was supposed
to be on Mount Olympos, in Thessaly. He was considered the highest
of the gods, ruler of the heavens and the earth.
Za' kyn thos, or Zante--an island near Corfù.
[Transcriber's note: The publishers of this book used an unusual
convention in which only a single pair of quotation marks surround
a quote, even when the quote extends over multiple paragraphs or
multiple chapters. This transcription has conventional usage of
quotation marks.]