Book XVI: Ulysses Discovering Himself to Telemachus

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Reception of Telemachus by Eumaeus, who is sent to inform Penelope of her son's arrival⁠—interview of Ulysses and Telemachus, in which, at the command of Pallas, Ulysses discovers himself⁠—Return of the disappointed suitors from lying in wait for Telemachus. Meantime Ulysses and that noble hind The swineherd, in the lodge, at early dawn, Lighted a fire, prepared a meal, and sent The herdsmеn forth to drive the swine afiеld. The dogs, so apt to bark, came fawning round, And barked not as Telemachus drew near. Ulysses heard the sound of coming feet, And marked the crouching dogs, and suddenly Bespake Eumaeus thus with winged words:⁠— "Eumaeus, without doubt some friend of thine, Or someone known familiarly, is near. There is no barking of the dogs; they fawn Around him, and I hear the sound of feet." Scarce had he spoken, when within the porch Stood his dear son. The swineherd starting up, Surprised, let fall the vessels from his hands In which he mingled the rich wines, and flew To meet his master; kissed him on the brow; Kissed both his shining eyes and both his hands, With many tears. As when a father takes Into his arms a son whom tenderly He loves, returning from a distant land In the tenth year⁠—his only son, the child Of his old age, for whom he long has borne Hardship and grief⁠—so to Telemachus The swineherd clung, and kissed him o'er and o'er, As one escaped from death, and, shedding still Warm tears, bespake him thus with winged words:⁠— "Thou comest, O Telemachus! the light Is not more sweet to me. I never thought To see thee more when thou hadst once embarked For Pylos. Now come in, beloved child, And let my heart rejoice that once again I have thee here, so newly come from far. For 'tis not often that thou visitest Herdsmen and fields, but dwellest in the town⁠— Such is thy will⁠—beholding day by day The wasteful pillage of the suitor-train." And thus discreet Telemachus replied: "So be it, father; for thy sake I came To see thee with these eyes, and hear thee speak And tell me if my mother dwells within The palace yet; or has some wooer led The queen away, his bride, and does the couch Of great Ulysses lie untapestried, With ugly cobwebs gathering over it?" And then the master swineherd spake in turn: "Most true it is that with a constant mind The queen inhabits yet thy palace halls, And wastes in tears her wretched nights and days." So speaking he received his brazen lance, And over the stone threshold passed the prince Into the lodge. Ulysses yielded up His seat to him; Telemachus forbade. "Nay, stranger, sit; it shall be ours to find Elsewhere a seat in this our lodge, and he Who should provide it is already here." He spake; Ulysses turned, and took again His place; the swineherd made a pile of twigs And covered it with skins, on which sat down The dear son of Ulysses. Next he brought Dishes of roasted meats which yet remained, Part of the banquet of the day before, And heaped the canisters with bread, and mixed The rich wines in a wooden bowl. He sat Right opposite Ulysses. All put forth Their hands and shared the meats upon the board; And when the calls of thirst and hunger ceased, Thus to the swineherd said Telemachus:⁠— "Whence, father, is this stranger, and how brought By seamen to the coast of Ithaca? And who are they that brought him?⁠—for I deem He came not over to our isle on foot." And thus, Eumaeus, thou didst make reply: "True answer will I make to all. He claims To be a son of the broad isle of Crete, And says that in his wanderings he has passed Through many cities of the world, for so Some god ordained; and now, escaped by flight From a Thesprotian galley, he has sought A refuge in my lodge. Into thy hands I give him; deal thou with him as thou wilt. He is thy suppliant, and makes suit to thee." Then spake discreet Telemachus again: "Eumaeus, thou hast uttered words that pierce My heart with pain; for how can I receive A stranger at my house? I am a youth Who never yet has trusted in his arm To beat the offerer of an insult back. And in my mother's mind the choice is yet Uncertain whether to remain with me The mistress of my household, keeping still Her constant reverence for her husband's bed, And still obedient to the people's voice, Or whether she shall follow as a bride Him of the Achaian suitors in my halls Who is accounted worthiest, and who brings The richest gifts. Now, as to this thy guest, Since he has sought thy lodge, I give to him A cloak and tunic, seemly of their kind, A two-edged sword, and sandals for his feet. And I will send him to whatever coast He may desire to go. Yet, if thou wilt, Lodge him beneath thy roof, and I will send Raiment and food, that he may be no charge To thee or thy companions. To my house Among the suitor-train I cannot bear That he should go. Those men are insolent Beyond all measure; they would scoff at him, And greatly should I grieve. The boldest man Against so many might contend in vain, And greater is their power by far than mine." Then spake Ulysses, the great sufferer: "O friend⁠—since I have liberty to speak⁠— My very heart is wounded when I hear What wrongs the suitors practise in thy halls Against a youth like thee. But give me leave To ask if thou submittest willingly, Or do thy people, hearkening to some god, Hate thee with open hatred? Dost thou blame Thy brothers?⁠—for in brothers men confide Even in a desperate conflict. Would that I Were young again, and with the will I have, Or that I could become Ulysses' son, Or were that chief himself returned at last From all his wanderings⁠—and there yet is hope Of his return⁠—then might another strike My head off if I would not instantly Enter the house of Laertiades And make myself a mischief to them all. But should they overcome me, thus alone Contending with such numbers, I would choose Rather in mine own palace to be slain Than every day behold such shameful deeds⁠— Insulted guests, maidservants foully dragged Through those fair palace chambers, wine-casks drained, And gluttons feasting idly, wastefully, And others toiling for them without end." Then spake again discreet Telemachus: "Stranger, thou shalt be answered faithfully. Know, then, the people are by no means wroth With me, nor have I brothers to accuse, Though in a desperate conflict men rely Upon a brother's aid. Saturnian Jove Confines our lineage to a single head. The king Arcesius had an only son, Laertes, and to him was only born Ulysses; and Ulysses left me here, The only scion of his house, and he Had little joy of me. Our halls are filled With enemies, the chief men of the isles⁠— Dulichium, Samos, and Zacynthus dark With forests, and the rugged Ithaca⁠— So many woo my mother and consume Our substance. She rejects not utterly Their hateful suit, nor yet will give consent And end it. They go on to waste my wealth, And soon will end me also; but the event Rests with the gods.⁠—And go thou now with speed, Eumaeus, father, to Penelope, And say that I am safe, and just returned From Pylos. I remain within the lodge. And then come back as soon as thou hast told The queen alone. Let none of all the Greeks Hear aught; for they are plotting harm to me." Then thus, Eumaeus, thou didst make reply: "Enough, I see it all, thy words are said To one who understands them. But, I pray, Direct me whether in my way to take A message to Laertes, the distressed. While sorrowing for Ulysses he o'ersaw The labors of the field, and ate and drank, As he had appetite, with those who wrought. But since thy voyage to the Pylian coast They say he never takes his daily meals As he was wont, nor oversees the work, But sits and mourns and sighs and pines away, Until his limbs are shrivelled to the bone." Then spake discreet Telemachus again: " 'Tis sad, but we must leave him to his grief A little while. Could everything be made To happen as we mortals wish, I then Would first desire my father's safe return. But thou, when thou hast given thy message, haste Hither again, nor wander through the fields To him; but let my mother send at once The matron of her household, privately, To bear the tidings to the aged man." He spake to speed the swineherd, who took up His sandals, bound them on, and bent his way Townward. Not unperceived by Pallas went Eumaeus from the lodge. She came in shape A woman beautiful and stately, skilled In household arts, the noblest. Near the gate She stood, right opposite. Ulysses saw; Telemachus beheld her not; the gods Not always manifest themselves to all. Ulysses and the mastiffs saw; the dogs Barked not, but, whimpering, fled from her and sought The stalls within. She beckoned with her brows; Ulysses knew her meaning and came forth, And passed the great wall of the court, and there Stood near to Pallas, who bespake him thus:⁠— "Son of Laertes, nobly born and wise, Speak with thy son; conceal from him the truth No longer, that, prepared to make an end Of that vile suitor-crew, ye may go up Into the royal town. Nor long will I Be absent; I am ready for the assault." Thus spake the goddess. Putting forth a wand Of gold, she touched the chief. Beneath that touch His breast was covered with a new-blanched robe And tunic. To his frame it gave new strength; His swarthy color came again, his cheeks Grew full, and the beard darkened on his chin. This done, she disappeared. Ulysses came Into the lodge again; his son beheld Amazed and overawed, and turned his eyes Away, as if in presence of a god, And thus bespake the chief with winged words:⁠— "O stranger, thou art other than thou wert; Thy garb is not the same, nor are thy looks; Thou surely art some deity of those Whose habitation is the ample heaven. Be gracious to us, let us bring to thee Such sacrifices as thou wilt accept And gifts of graven gold; be merciful." Ulysses, the great sufferer, thus replied: "I am no god; how am I like the gods? I am thy father, he for whom thy sighs Are breathed, and sorrows borne, and wrongs endured." He spake and kissed his son, and from his lids Tears fell to earth, that long had been restrained. And then Telemachus, who could not think The stranger was his father, answered thus:⁠— "Nay, thou art not my father, thou art not Ulysses; rather hath some deity Sought to deceive me, that my grief may be The sharper; for no mortal man would do What has been done, unless some god should come To aid him, and to make him young or old At pleasure; for thou wert a moment since An aged man, and sordidly arrayed, And now art like the gods of the wide heaven." Ulysses, the sagacious, answered thus: "It is not well, Telemachus, to greet With boundless wonder and astonishment Thy father in this lodge. Be sure of this, That no Ulysses other than myself Will ever enter here. I, who am he, Have suffered greatly and have wandered far, And in the twentieth year am come again To mine own land. Thou hast beheld today A wonder wrought by Pallas, huntress-queen, Who makes me what she will, such power is hers⁠— Sometimes to seem a beggar, and in turn A young man in a comely garb. The gods Whose home is in the heavens can easily Exalt a mortal man, or bring him low." He spake and sat him down. Telemachus Around his glorious father threw his arms, And shed a shower of tears. Both felt at heart A passionate desire to weep; they wept Aloud⁠—and louder were their cries than those Of eagles, or the sharp-clawed vulture tribe, Whose young the hinds have stolen, yet unfledged. Still flowed their tears abundantly; the sun Would have gone down and left them weeping still Had not Telemachus at length inquired:⁠— "Dear father, tell me in what galley came The mariners who brought thee. Of what race Claim they to be? For certainly, I think, Thou cam'st not hither travelling on foot." Ulysses, the great sufferer, thus replied: "My son, thou shalt be answered faithfully. Men of a race renowned for seamanship, Phaeacians, brought me hither. They convey Abroad the strangers coming to their isle, And, bearing me in one of their swift barques Across the sea, they landed me asleep In Ithaca. Rich were the gifts they gave⁠— Much brass and gold, and garments from the loom; These, so the gods have counselled, lie concealed Among the hollow rocks, and I am come, Obeying Pallas, to consult with thee How to destroy our enemies. Give now The number of the suitors; let me know How many there may be, and who they are, That with a careful judgment I may weigh The question whether we shall fall on them⁠— We two alone⁠—or must we seek allies." Then spake discreet Telemachus again: "O father, I have heard of thy great fame My whole life long⁠—how mighty is thy arm, How wise thy counsels. Thou hast said great things, And I am thunderstruck. It cannot be That two alone should stand before a crowd Of valiant men. They are not merely ten⁠— These suitors⁠—nor twice ten, but many more; Hear, then, their number. From Dulichium come Fifty and two, the flower of all its youth, With whom are six attendants. Samos sends Twice twelve, and twenty more Achaian chiefs Come from Zacynthus. Twelve from Ithaca; The noblest of the isle are these⁠—with whom Medon the herald comes⁠—a bard whose song Is heavenly⁠—and two servants skilled to spread The banquet. Should we in the palace halls Assault all these, I fear lest the revenge For all thy wrongs would end most bitterly And grievously for thee. Now, if thy thought Be turned to some ally, bethink thee who Will combat for us with a willing heart." Again Ulysses, the great sufferer, spake: "Then will I tell thee; listen, and give heed. Think whether Pallas and her father, Jove, Suffice not for us. Need we more allies?" And then discreet Telemachus rejoined: "Assuredly the twain whom thou hast named Are mighty as allies; for though they sit On high among the clouds, they yet bear rule Both o'er mankind and o'er the living gods." Once more Ulysses, the great sufferer, spake: "Not long will they avoid the fierce affray When in my halls the strength of war is tried Between me and the suitor crew. Now go With early morning to thy home, and there Mingle among the suitors. As for me, The swineherd afterward shall lead me hence To town, a wretched beggar seemingly, And very old. If there they scoff at me In mine own palace, let thy faithful heart Endure it, though I suffer; though they seize My feet, and by them drag me to the door, Or strike at me with weapon-blades, look on And bear it; yet reprove with gentle words Their folly. They will never heed reproof; The day of their destruction is at hand. And this I tell thee further, and be sure To keep my words in memory. As soon As Pallas, goddess of wise counsel, gives The warning, I shall nod to thee, and thou, When thou perceivest it, remove at once All weapons from my halls to a recess High in an upper chamber. With soft words Quiet the suitors when they ask thee why. Say, 'I would take them where there comes no smoke, Since now they seem no longer like to those Left by Ulysses when he sailed for Troy, But soiled and tarnished by the breath of fire. This graver reason, also, Saturn's son Hath forced upon my mind⁠—that ye by chance, When full of wine and quarrelling, may wound Each other, and disgrace the feast, and bring Shame on your wooing; for the sight of steel Draws men to bloodshed.' Say but this, and leave Two swords for us, two spears, two oxhide shields, Against the day of combat. Pallas then, And Jove the All-disposer, will unman Their hearts. Moreover, let me say to thee⁠— And keep my words in memory⁠—if thou be My son, and of my blood, let no man hear That now Ulysses is within the isle; Let not Laertes hear of it, nor him Who keeps the swine, nor any of the train Of servants, nor Penelope herself, While thou and I alone search out and prove The women of the household, and no less The serving-men, to know who honors us, And bears us reverence in his heart, and who Contemns us, and dishonors even thee." Then answered his illustrious son and said: "Father, thou yet wilt know my heart, and find That of a careless and too easy mood I am not; but a search like this, I think, Would profit neither of us, and I pray That thou wilt well consider it. Long time Wouldst thou go wandering from place to place, O'er thy estates, to prove the loyalty Of everyone, while in thy halls at ease The suitors wastefully consume thy wealth. Yet would I counsel that the women's faith Be proved, that the disloyal may be marked And the innocent go free. As for the men, I would not now inquire from farm to farm; That may be done hereafter, if indeed Thou hast a sign from aegis-bearing Jove." So talked they with each other. The good ship Which brought Telemachus and all his friends From Pylos kept meantime upon its way To Ithaca. There, entering the deep port, The seamen hauled the black ship up the beach; And then the ready servants took away The arms, and to the house of Clytius bore The costly gifts. A herald from the ship Went forward to the palace of the king With tidings to the sage Penelope That now her son was come and in the fields, And that the ship at his command had reached The city, lest the royal dame might feel Fear for his safety, and give way to tears. The herald and the noble swineherd met, Each bearing the same message to the queen. Entering the palace of the godlike king, And standing midst the maids, the herald said:⁠— "O lady, thy beloved son is come." But close beside the queen the swineherd stood, And told her everything which her dear son Had bid him say; and, having thus fulfilled His errand, left the palace and its court. Then were the suitors vexed and sorrowful, And going from the palace, and without The great wall that enclosed the court, sat down Before the gates, and there Eurymachus, The son of Polybus, harangued the throng:⁠— "Behold, my friends, Telemachus has done A marvellous thing; this voyage, which we thought He could not make, is made. Now let us launch A ship, the best that we can find, and man With fishermen the benches, sending it To find our friends, and hasten their return." Scarce had he spoken when Amphinomus, In turning where he stood, beheld a barque Enter the port's deep waters, with a crew That furled the sails and held the oars in hand. He laughed, well pleased, and to the suitors said:⁠— "There needs no message to be sent, for they Are here already. Haply hath some god Given them the knowledge, or perchance they saw, But could not overtake, the prince's ship." He spake; they rose and hastened to the strand, And quickly drew the galley up the beach. The ready servants bore the arms away; Then met they all in council, suffering none Save of the suitor-train to meet with them⁠— None, either young or old. Eupeithes' son, Antinoüs, standing forth, bespake them thus:⁠— "How strangely do the gods protect this man From evil! All day long spy after spy Has sat and watched upon the airy heights, And when the sun was set we never slept On land, but ever in our gallant ship Sailed, waiting for the holy morn, and lay In constant ambush for Telemachus, To seize and to destroy him. Yet behold, Some deity has brought him home. And now Frame we a plan to cut off utterly Telemachus, and leave him no escape; For certainly I think that while he lives The end we aim at cannot be attained. Shrewd is the youth in counsel and device, And we no longer have, as once we had, The people's favor. Let us quickly act, Ere he can call a council of the Greeks. That he will do without delay, and there Will rise in wrath to tell them how we planned His death by violence, and failed; and they Who hear assuredly will not approve The plotted mischief. They may drive us forth With outrage from our country to a land Of strangers. Let us be the first to strike, And slay him in the fields or on the way, And, taking his possessions to ourselves, Share equally his wealth. Then may we give This palace to his mother, and the man Whom she shall wed, whoever he may be. Or if this plan mislike you, and ye choose That he should live, and keep the fair estate That was his father's, let us not go on Thronging the palace to consume his wealth In revelry, but each with liberal gifts Woo her from his own dwelling; and let him Who gives most generously, and whom fate Most favors, take the lady as his bride." He spake, and all were mute. Amphinomus, The illustrious son of royal Nisus, rose. The grandson of Aretias, it was he Who led the suitors from Dulichium's fields, Grassy and rich in corn. Penelope Liked best his words, for generous was his thought, And with a generous purpose thus he spake:⁠— "Nay, friends, not mine is the advice to slay Telemachus. It is a fearful thing To take a royal life. Then let us first Inquire the pleasure of the gods. For if The oracles of mighty Jupiter Approve it, I would do the deed myself, Or bid another do it; but if they Consent not, 'tis my counsel to forbear." He spake, and all approved. At once they rose, And, entering the palace, sat them down On shining thrones. Meantime Penelope Had formed the purpose to appear before The arrogant suitors, for the news was brought Into her chamber of the plot to slay Her son; the herald Medon overheard, And told her all. So to the hall she went With her attendant maids. The glorious dame Drew near the suitor-train, and took her stand Beside a column of the stately pile, And with a delicate veil before her cheeks Began to speak, and chid Antinoüs thus:⁠— "Antinoüs, mischief-plotter, insolent! The rumor is that thou excellest all Of thy own age among the Ithacans In understanding and in speech. Yet such Thou never wert. Ferocious as thou art, Why seek the death of my Telemachus, And treat with scorn the suppliants of whose prayer Jove is the witness? An unholy thing It is when men against their fellow-men Plot mischief. Dost thou then forget that once Thy father came to us a fugitive, In terror of the people, who were wroth Because he joined the Taphian pirate-race, And plundered the Thesprotians, our allies. The people would have slain him, and have torn His heart out, and have pillaged his large wealth; Ulysses checked their rage, and held them back, Fierce as they were. Now thou dost waste his goods Most shamefully, and woo his wife, and slay His son, and multiply my woes. Cease now, I charge thee, and persuade the rest to cease." Eurymachus, the son of Polybus, Replied: "O daughter of Icarius, sage Penelope, take heart; let no such thought Possess thy mind. There is no man on earth, Nor will there be, who shall lay violent hands Upon Telemachus, thy son, while I Am living, and yet keep the gift of sight. I say, and will perform it⁠—his black blood Shall flow and bathe my spear. Ulysses oft, Spoiler of realms, would take me on his knee, And put the roasted meats into my hands, And give me ruddy wine. I therefore hold Telemachus of all mankind most dear, And I will bid him have no fear of death From any of the suitors. If it come, Sent by the gods, he cannot then escape." So spake he to appease her, while he planned, The murder of her son. The queen went up To the fair upper chambers, and there wept Ulysses, her dear spouse, till o'er her lids The blue-eyed Pallas poured the balm of sleep. At evening to Ulysses and his son The noble swineherd went, while busily They made the supper ready, having slain A porker one year old. Then instantly Stood Pallas by Ulysses, and put forth Her wand and touched him, making him again Old, and clad sordidly in beggar's weeds, Lest that the swineherd, knowing at a look His master, might not keep the knowledge locked In his own breast, but, hastening forth, betray The secret to the chaste Penelope. Then to the swineherd said Telemachus: "Noble Eumaeus, welcome; what reports Are in the town? Have those large-minded men, The suitors, left their ambush and returned, Or are they waiting yet for me to pass?" And thus, Eumaeus, thou didst make reply: "Of that, indeed, I never thought to ask, In going through the town. My only care Was to return, as soon as I had given My message, with such speed as I could make. I met a messenger, a herald sent By thy companions, who was first to tell Thy mother of thy safe return. Yet this I know, for I beheld it with my eyes. When outside of the city, where the hill Of Hermes stands, I saw a gallant barque Entering the port, and carrying many men. Heavy it was with shields and two-edged spears; 'Twas they, I thought, and yet I cannot tell." He spake; Telemachus the valiant looked Upon his father with a smile unmarked By good Eumaeus. When their task was done, And the board spread, they feasted. No one lacked His portion of the common meal. Their thirst And hunger satisfied, they laid them down To rest, and so received the gift of sleep.