THE
GODS IN COUNCIL—MINERVA’S VISIT TO ITHACA—THE CHALLENGE FROM
TELEMACHUS TO THE SUITORS.
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, oh
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.
1
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,
2
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 manservant brought them wine and poured
it
out for them.
Then
the suitors came in and took their places on the benches and
seats.
3
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
4
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
5
under
the wooded mountain Neritum.
6
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 whither; 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,
7
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 of 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 morning—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
8
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.”
9
“
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
10
—
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
11
,
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.
12
Telemachus’s
room was high up in a tower
13
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.
14
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
15
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.
16
But
Telemachus as he lay covered with a woollen fleece kept thinking
all
night through of his intended voyage and of the counsel that
Minerva
had given him.