they moored her in readiness out in the shore water; but the chiefs
dined with Alcinous, and the minstrel sang about the Trojan war, and so
stirred the heart of Ulysses, that he held his mantle before his face
and wept. When Alcinous saw that, he proposed that they should go and
amuse themselves with sports in the open air; races, wrestling, and
boxing. The son of Alcinous asked Ulysses if he would care to take part
in the games, but Ulysses answered that he was too heavy at heart. To
this a young man, Euryalus, said that Ulysses was probably a captain of
a merchant ship, a tradesman, not a sportsman.
At this Ulysses was ill pleased, and replied that while he was young and
happy, he was well skilled in all sports, but now he was heavy and weak
with war and wandering. Still, he would show what he could do. Then he
seized a heavy weight, much heavier than any that the Phaeacians used in
putting the stone. He whirled it up, and hurled it far--far beyond the
furthest mark that the Phaeacians had reached when putting a lighter
weight. Then he challenged any man to run a race with him or box with
him, or shoot at a mark with him. Only his speed in running did he
doubt, for his limbs were stiffened by the sea. Perhaps Alcinous saw
that it would go ill with any man who matched himself against the
stranger, so he sent for the harper, who sang a merry song, and then he
made the young men dance and play ball, and bade the elder men go and
bring rich presents of gold and garments for the wanderer. Alcinous
himself gave a beautiful coffer and chest, and a great golden cup, and
Arete tied up all the gifts in the coffer, while the damsels took
Ulysses to the bath, and bathed him and anointed him with oil.
As he left the bath he met Nausicaa, standing at the entrance of the
hall. She bade him good-bye, rather sadly, saying: 'Farewell, and do not
soon forget me in your own country, for to me you owe the ransom of your
life.' 'May God grant to me to see my own country, lady,' he answered,
'for there I will think of you with worship, as I think of the blessed
Gods, all my days, for to you, lady, I owe my very life.' These were the
last words they spoke to each other, for Nausicaa did not sit at meat in
the hall with the great company of men. When they had taken supper, the
blind harper sang again a song about the deeds of Ulysses at Troy, and
again Ulysses wept, so that Alcinous asked him: 'Hast thou lost a dear
friend or a kinsman in the great war?' Then Ulysses spoke out: 'I am
Ulysses, Laertes' son, of whom all men have heard tell.' While they sat
amazed, he began, and told them the whole story of his adventures, from
the day when he left Troy till he arrived at Calypso's island; he had
already told them how he was shipwrecked on his way thence to Phaeacia.
All that wonderful story he told to their pleasure, and Euryalus made
amends for his rude words at the games, and gave Ulysses a beautiful
sword of bronze, with an ivory hilt set with studs of gold. Many other
gifts were given to him, and were carried and stored on board the ship
which had been made ready, and then Ulysses spoke good-bye to the Queen,
saying: 'Be happy, oh Queen, till old age and death come to you, as they
come to all. Be joyful in your house with your children and your people,
and Alcinous the King.' Then he departed, and lay down on sheets and
cloaks in the raised deck of the ship, and soundly he slept while the
fifty oars divided the waters of the sea, and drove the ship to Ithaca.
VII
HOW ULYSSES CAME TO HIS OWN COUNTRY, AND FOR SAFETY DISGUISED HIMSELF AS
AN OLD BEGGAR MAN
When Ulysses awoke, he found himself alone, wrapped in the linen sheet
and the bright coverlet, and he knew not where he was. The Phaeacians
had carried him from the ship as he slept, and put him on shore, and
placed all the rich gifts that had been given him under a tree, and then
had sailed away. There was a morning mist that hid the land, and Ulysses
did not know the haven of his own island, Ithaca, and the rock whence
sprang a fountain of the water fairies that men call Naiads. He thought
that the Phaeacians had set him in a strange country, so he counted all
his goods, and then walked up and down sadly by the seashore. Here he
met a young man, delicately clad, like a king's son, with a double
mantle, such as kings wear, folded round his shoulders, and a spear in
his hand. 'Tell me pray,' said Ulysses, 'what land is this, and what men
dwell here?'
The young man said: 'Truly, stranger, you know little, or you come from
far away. This isle is Ithaca, and the name of it is known even in
Troyland.'
Ulysses was glad, indeed, to learn that he was at home at last; but how
the young men who had grown up since he went away would treat him, all
alone as he was, he could not tell. So he did not let out that he was
Ulysses the King, but said that he was a Cretan. The stranger would
wonder why a Cretan had come alone to Ithaca, with great riches, and yet
did not know that he was there. So he pretended that, in Crete, a son of
Idomeneus had tried to rob him of all the spoil he took at Troy, and
that he had killed this prince, and packed his wealth and fled on board
a ship of the Phoenicians, who promised to land him at Pylos. But the
wind had borne them out of their way, and they had all landed and slept
on shore, here; but the Phoenicians had left him asleep and gone off in
the dawn.
On this the young man laughed, and suddenly appeared as the great
Goddess, Pallas Athene. 'How clever you are,' she said; 'yet you did not
know me, who helped you in Troyland. But much trouble lies before you,
and you must not let man or woman know who you really are, your enemies
are so many and powerful.'
'You never helped me in my dangers on the sea,' said Ulysses, 'and now
do you make mock of me, or is this really mine own country?'
'I had no mind,' said the Goddess, 'to quarrel with my brother the Sea
God, who had a feud against you for the blinding of his son, the
Cyclops. But come, you shall see this is really Ithaca,' and she
scattered the white mist, and Ulysses saw and knew the pleasant cave of
the Naiads, and the forests on the side of the mountain called Neriton.
So he knelt down and kissed the dear earth of his own country, and
prayed to the Naiads of the cave. Then the Goddess helped him to hide
all his gold, and bronze, and other presents in a secret place in the
cavern; and she taught him how, being lonely as he was, he might destroy
the proud wooers of his wife, who would certainly desire to take his
life.
The Goddess began by disguising Ulysses, so that his skin seemed
wrinkled, and his hair thin, and his eyes dull, and she gave him dirty
old wraps for clothes, and over all a great bald skin of a stag, like
that which he wore when he stole into Troy disguised as a beggar. She
gave him a staff, too, and a wallet to hold scraps of broken food. There
was not a man or a woman that knew Ulysses in this disguise. Next, the
Goddess bade him go across the island to his own swineherd, who remained
faithful to him, and to stay there among the swine till she brought home
Telemachus, who was visiting Helen and Menelaus in Lacedaemon. She fled
away to Lacedaemon, and Ulysses climbed the hills that lay between the
cavern and the farm where the swineherd lived.
When Ulysses reached the farmhouse, the swineherd, Eumaeus, was sitting
alone in front of his door, making himself a pair of brogues out of the
skin of an ox. He was a very honest man, and, though he was a slave, he
was the son of a prince in his own country. When he was a little child
some Phoenicians came in their ship to his father's house and made
friends with his nurse, who was a Phoenician woman. One of them, who
made love to her, asked her who she was, and she said that her father
was a rich man in Sidon, but that pirates had carried her away and sold
her to her master. The Phoenicians promised to bring her back to Sidon,
and she fled to their ship, carrying with her the child whom she nursed,
little Eumaeus; she also stole three cups of gold. The woman died at
sea, and the pirates sold the boy to Laertes, the father of Ulysses, who
treated him kindly. Eumaeus was fond of the family which he served, and
he hated the proud wooers for their insolence.
When Ulysses came near his house the four great dogs rushed out and
barked at him; they would have bitten, too, but Eumaeus ran up and threw
stones at them, and no farm dog can face a shower of stones. He took
Ulysses into his house, gave him food and wine, and told him all about
the greed and pride of the wooers. Ulysses said that the master of
Eumaeus would certainly come home, and told a long story about himself.
He was a Cretan, he said, and had fought at Troy, and later had been
shipwrecked, but reached a country called Thesprotia, where he learned
that Ulysses was alive, and was soon to leave Thesprotia and return to
Ithaca.
Eumaeus did not believe this tale, and supposed that the beggar man only
meant to say what he would like to hear. However, he gave Ulysses a good
dinner of his own pork, and Ulysses amused him and his fellow slaves
with stories about the Siege of Troy, till it was bedtime.
In the meantime Athene had gone to Lacedaemon to the house of Menelaus,
where Telemachus was lying awake. She told him that Penelope, his
mother, meant to marry one of the wooers, and advised him to sail home
at once, avoiding the strait between Ithaca and another isle, where his
enemies were lying in wait to kill him. When he reached Ithaca he must
send his oarsmen to the town, but himself walk alone across the island
to see the swineherd. In the morning Telemachus and his friend,
Pisistratus, said good-bye to Menelaus and Helen, who wished to make him
presents, and so went to their treasure house. Now when they came to the
place where the treasures were stored, then Atrides took a double cup,
and bade his son, Megapenthes, to bear a mixing-bowl of silver. And
Helen stood by the coffers, wherein were her robes of curious needlework
which she herself had wrought. So Helen, the fair lady, lifted one and
brought it out--the widest and most beautifully embroidered of all--and
it shone like a star, and lay far beneath the rest.
Then they went back through the house till they came to Telemachus; and
Menelaus, of the fair hair, spake to him, saying:
'Telemachus, may Zeus the thunderer, and the lord of Hera, in very truth
bring about thy return according to the desire of thy heart. And of the
gifts, such as are treasures stored in my house, I will give thee the
goodliest and greatest of price. I will give thee a mixing-bowl
beautifully wrought; it is all of silver, and the lips thereof are
finished with gold, the work of Hephaestus; and the hero Phaedimus, the
king of the Sidonians, gave it to me when his house sheltered me, on my
coming thither. This cup I would give to thee.'
Therewith the hero Atrides set the double cup in his hands. And the
strong Megapenthes bare the shining silver bowl and set it before him.
And Helen came up, beautiful Helen, with the robe in her hands, and
spake and hailed him:
'Lo! I, too, give thee this gift, dear child, a memorial of the hands of
Helen, against the day of thy desire, even of thy bridal, for thy bride
to wear it. But, meanwhile, let it lie by thy dear mother in her
chamber. And may joy go with thee to thy well-builded house and thine
own country.'
Just when Telemachus was leaving her palace door, an eagle stooped from
the sky and flew away with a great white goose that was feeding on the
grass, and the farm servants rushed out shouting, but the eagle passed
away to the right hand, across the horses of Pisistratus.
Then Helen explained the meaning of this omen. 'Hear me, and I will
prophesy as the immortals put it into my heart, and as I deem it will be
accomplished. Even as yonder eagle came down from the hill, the place
of his birth and kin, and snatched away the goose that was fostered in
the house, even so shall Ulysses return home after much trial and long
wanderings and take vengeance; yea! or even now is he at home and sowing
the seeds of evil for all the wooers.' We are told no more about Helen
of the fair hands, except that she and Menelaus never died, but were
carried by the Gods to the beautiful Elysian plain, a happy place where
war and trouble never came, nor old age, nor death. After that she was
worshipped in her own country as if she had been a Goddess, kind,
gentle, and beautiful.
Telemachus thanked Helen for prophesying good luck, and he drove to the
city of Nestor, on the sea, but was afraid to go near the old king, who
would have kept him and entertained him, while he must sail at once for
Ithaca. He went to his own ship in the harbour, and, while his crew made
ready to sail, there came a man running hard, and in great fear of the
avenger of blood. This was a second-sighted man, called Theoclymenus,
and he implored Telemachus to take him to Ithaca, for he had slain a man
in his own country, who had killed one of his brothers, and now the
brothers and cousins of that man were pursuing him to take his life.
Telemachus made him welcome, and so sailed north to Ithaca, wondering
whether he should be able to slip past the wooers, who were lying in
wait to kill him. Happily the ship of Telemachus passed them unseen in
the night, and arrived at Ithaca. He sent his crew to the town, and was
just starting to walk across the island to the swineherd's house, when
the second-sighted man asked what _he_ should do. Telemachus told
Piraeus, one of his friends, to take the man home and be kind to him,
which he gladly promised to do, and then he set off to seek the
swineherd.
The swineherd, with Ulysses, had just lit a fire to cook breakfast, when
they saw the farm dogs frolicking round a young man who was walking
towards the house. The dogs welcomed him, for he was no stranger, but
Telemachus. Up leaped the swineherd in delight, and the bowl in which he
was mixing wine and water fell from his hands. He had been unhappy for
fear the wooers who lay in wait for Telemachus should kill him, and he
ran and embraced the young man as gladly as a father welcomes a son who
has long been in a far country. Telemachus, too, was anxious to hear
whether his mother had married one of the wooers, and glad to know that
she still bore her troubles patiently.
When Telemachus stepped into the swineherd's house Ulysses arose from
his seat, but Telemachus bade the old beggar man sit down again, and a
pile of brushwood with a fleece thrown over it was brought for himself.
They breakfasted on what was ready, cold pork, wheaten bread, and wine
in cups of ivy wood, and Eumaeus told Telemachus that the old beggar
gave himself out as a wanderer from Crete. Telemachus answered that he
could not take strangers into his mother's house, for he was unable to
protect them against the violence of the wooers, but he would give the
wanderer clothes and shoes and a sword, and he might stay at the farm.
He sent the swineherd to tell his mother, Penelope, that he had returned
in safety, and Eumaeus started on his journey to the town.
At this moment the farm dogs, which had been taking their share of the
breakfast, began to whine, and bristle up, and slunk with their tails
between their legs to the inmost corner of the room. Telemachus could
not think why they were afraid, or of what, but Ulysses saw the Goddess
Athene, who appeared to him alone, and the dogs knew that something
strange and terrible was coming to the door. Ulysses went out, and
Athene bade him tell Telemachus who he really was, now that they were
alone, and she touched Ulysses with her golden wand, and made him appear
like himself, and his clothes like a king's raiment.
Telemachus, who neither saw nor heard Athene, wondered greatly, and
thought the beggar man must be some God, wandering in disguise. But
Ulysses said, 'No God am I, but thine own father,' and they embraced
each other and wept for joy.
At last Ulysses told Telemachus how he had come home in a ship of the
Phaeacians, and how his treasure was hidden in the cave of the Naiads,
and asked him how many the wooers were, and how they might drive them
from the house. Telemachus replied that the wooers were one hundred and
eight, and that Medon, a servant of his own, took part with them; there
was also the minstrel of the house, whom they compelled to sing at their
feasts. They were all strong young men, each with his sword at his side,
but they had with them no shields, helmets, and breastplates. Ulysses
said that, with the help of the Goddess, he hoped to get the better of
them, many as they were. Telemachus must go to the house, and Ulysses
would come next day, in the disguise of an old beggar. However ill the
wooers might use him, Telemachus must take no notice, beyond saying that
they ought to behave better. Ulysses, when he saw a good chance, would
give Telemachus a sign to take away the shields, helmets, and weapons
that hung on the walls of the great hall, and to hide them in a secret
place. If the wooers missed them, he must say--first, that the smoke of
the fire was spoiling them; and, again, that they were better out of the
reach of the wooers, in case they quarrelled over their wine. Telemachus
must keep two swords, two spears, and two shields for himself and
Ulysses to use, if they saw a chance, and he must let neither man nor
woman know that the old beggar man was his father.
While they were talking, one of the crew of Telemachus and the swineherd
went to Penelope and told her how her son had landed. On hearing this
the wooers held a council as to how they should behave to him: Antinous
was for killing him, but Amphinomus and Eurymachus were for waiting, and
seeing what would happen. Before Eumaeus came back from his errand to
Penelope, Athene changed Ulysses into the dirty old beggar again.
VIII
ULYSSES COMES DISGUISED AS A BEGGAR TO HIS OWN PALACE
Next morning Telemachus went home, and comforted his mother, and told
her how he had been with Nestor and Menelaus, and seen her cousin, Helen
of the fair hands, but this did not seem to interest Penelope, who
thought that her beautiful cousin was the cause of all her misfortunes.
Then Theoclymenus, the second-sighted man whom Telemachus brought from
Pylos, prophesied to Penelope that Ulysses was now in Ithaca, taking
thought how he might kill the wooers, who were then practising
spear-throwing at a mark, while some of them were killing swine and a
cow for breakfast.
Meanwhile Ulysses, in disguise, and the swineherd were coming near the
town, and there they met the goatherd, Melanthius, who was a friend of
the wooers, and an insolent and violent slave. He insulted the old
beggar, and advised him not to come near the house of Ulysses, and
kicked him off the road. Then Ulysses was tempted to slay him with his
hands, but he controlled himself lest he should be discovered, and he
and Eumaeus walked slowly to the palace. As they lingered outside the
court, lo! a hound raised up his head and pricked his ears, even where
he lay: Argos, the hound of Ulysses, of the hardy heart, which of old
himself had bred. Now in time past the young men used to lead the hound
against wild goats and deer and hares; but, as then, he lay despised
(his master being afar) in the deep dung of mules and kine, whereof an
ample bed was spread before the doors till the slaves of Ulysses should
carry it away to dung therewith his wide demesne. There lay the dog
Argos, full of vermin. Yet even now, when he was aware of Ulysses
standing by, he wagged his tail and dropped both his ears, but nearer to
his master he had not now the strength to draw. But Ulysses looked aside
and wiped away a tear that he easily hid from Eumaeus, and straightway
he asked him, saying:
'Eumaeus, verily this is a great marvel: this hound lying here in the
dung. Truly he is goodly of growth, but I know not certainly if he have
speed with this beauty, or if he be comely only, like men's trencher
dogs that their lords keep for the pleasure of the eye.'
Then answered the swineherd Eumaeus: 'In very truth this is the dog of a
man that has died in a far land. If he were what once he was in limb and
in the feats of the chase, when Ulysses left him to go to Troy, soon
wouldst thou marvel at the sight of his swiftness and his strength.
There was no beast that could flee from him in the deep places of the
wood when he was in pursuit; for even on a track he was the keenest
hound. But now he is holden in an evil case, and his lord hath perished
far from his own country, and the careless women take no charge of him.'
Therewith he passed within the fair-lying house, and went straight to
the hall, to the company of the proud wooers. But upon Argos came death
even in the hour that he beheld Ulysses again, in the twentieth year.
Thus the good dog knew Ulysses, though Penelope did not know him when
she saw him, and tears came into Ulysses' eyes as he stood above the
body of the hound that loved him well. Eumaeus went into the house, but
Ulysses sat down where it was the custom for beggars to sit, on the
wooden threshold outside the door of the hall. Telemachus saw him, from
his high seat under the pillars on each side of the fire, in the middle
of the room, and bade Eumaeus carry a loaf and a piece of pork to the
beggar, who laid them in his wallet between his feet, and ate. Then he
thought he would try if there were one courteous man among the wooers,
and he entered the hall and began to beg among them. Some gave him
crusts and bones, but Antinous caught up a footstool and struck him hard
on the shoulder. 'May death come upon Antinous before his wedding day!'
said Ulysses, and even the other wooers rebuked him for striking a
beggar.
Penelope heard of this, and told Eumaeus to bring the beggar to her; she
thought he might have news of her husband. But Ulysses made Eumaeus say
that he had been struck once in the hall, and would not come to her
till after sunset, when the wooers left the house. Then Eumaeus went to
his own farmhouse, after telling Telemachus that he would come next day,
driving swine for the wooers to eat.
Ulysses was the new beggar in Ithaca: he soon found that he had a rival,
an old familiar beggar, named Irus. This man came up to the palace, and
was angry when he saw a newcomer sitting in the doorway, 'Get up,' he
said, 'I ought to drag you away by the foot: begone before we quarrel!'
'There is room enough for both of us,' said Ulysses, 'do not anger me.'
Irus challenged him to fight, and the wooers thought this good sport,
and they made a ring, and promised that the winner should be
beggar-in-chief, and have the post to himself. Ulysses asked the wooers
to give him fair play, and not to interfere, and then he stripped his
shoulders, and kilted up his rags, showing strong arms and legs. As for
Irus he began to tremble, but Antinous forced him to fight, and the two
put up their hands. Irus struck at the shoulder of Ulysses, who hit him
with his right fist beneath the ear, and he fell, the blood gushing from
his mouth, and his heels drumming in the ground, and Ulysses dragged him
from the doorway and propped him against the wall of the court, while
the wooers laughed. Then Ulysses spoke gravely to Amphinomus, telling
him that it would be wise in him to go home, for that if Ulysses came
back it might not be so easy to escape his hands.
After sunset Ulysses spoke so fiercely to the maidens of Penelope, who
insulted him, that they ran to their own rooms, but Eurymachus threw a
footstool at him. He slipped out of the way, and the stool hit the
cupbearer and knocked him down, and all was disorder in the hall. The
wooers themselves were weary of the noise and disorder, and went home to
the houses in the town where they slept. Then Telemachus and Ulysses,
being left alone, hid the shields and helmets and spears that hung on
the walls of the hall in an armoury within the house, and when this was
done Telemachus went to sleep in his own chamber, in the courtyard, and
Ulysses waited till Penelope should come into the hall.