The Odyssey
nor could the sun’s rays pierce it, and the ground underneath lay thick
with fallen leaves. The boar heard the noise of the men’s feet, and the
hounds baying on every side as the huntsmen came up to him, so he
rushed from his lair, raised the bristles on his neck, and stood at bay
with fire flashing from his eyes. Ulysses was the first to raise his
spear and try to drive it into the brute, but the boar was too quick
for him, and charged him sideways, ripping him above the knee with a
gash that tore deep though it did not reach the bone. As for the boar,
Ulysses hit him on the right shoulder, and the point of the spear went
right through him, so that he fell groaning in the dust until the life
went out of him. The sons of Autolycus busied themselves with the
carcass of the boar, and bound Ulysses’ wound; then, after saying a
spell to stop the bleeding, they went home as fast as they could. But
when Autolycus and his sons had thoroughly healed Ulysses, they made
him some splendid presents, and sent him back to Ithaca with much
mutual good will. When he got back, his father and mother were rejoiced
to see him, and asked him all about it, and how he had hurt himself to
get the scar; so he told them how the boar had ripped him when he was
out hunting with Autolycus and his sons on Mt. Parnassus.
As soon as Euryclea had got the scarred limb in her hands and had well
hold of it, she recognised it and dropped the foot at once. The leg
fell into the bath, which rang out and was overturned, so that all the
water was spilt on the ground; Euryclea’s eyes between her joy and her
grief filled with tears, and she could not speak, but she caught
Ulysses by the beard and said, “My dear child, I am sure you must be
Ulysses himself, only I did not know you till I had actually touched
and handled you.”
As she spoke she looked towards Penelope, as though wanting to tell her
that her dear husband was in the house, but Penelope was unable to look
in that direction and observe what was going on, for Minerva had
diverted her attention; so Ulysses caught Euryclea by the throat with
his right hand and with his left drew her close to him, and said,
“Nurse, do you wish to be the ruin of me, you who nursed me at your own
breast, now that after twenty years of wandering I am at last come to
my own home again? Since it has been borne in upon you by heaven to
recognise me, hold your tongue, and do not say a word about it to any
one else in the house, for if you do I tell you—and it shall surely
be—that if heaven grants me to take the lives of these suitors, I will
not spare you, though you are my own nurse, when I am killing the other
women.”
“My child,” answered Euryclea, “what are you talking about? You know
very well that nothing can either bend or break me. I will hold my
tongue like a stone or a piece of iron; furthermore let me say, and lay
my saying to your heart, when heaven has delivered the suitors into
your hand, I will give you a list of the women in the house who have
been ill-behaved, and of those who are guiltless.”
And Ulysses answered, “Nurse, you ought not to speak in that way; I am
well able to form my own opinion about one and all of them; hold your
tongue and leave everything to heaven.”
As he said this Euryclea left the cloister to fetch some more water,
for the first had been all spilt; and when she had washed him and
anointed him with oil, Ulysses drew his seat nearer to the fire to warm
himself, and hid the scar under his rags. Then Penelope began talking
to him and said:
“Stranger, I should like to speak with you briefly about another
matter. It is indeed nearly bed time—for those, at least, who can sleep
in spite of sorrow. As for myself, heaven has given me a life of such
unmeasurable woe, that even by day when I am attending to my duties and
looking after the servants, I am still weeping and lamenting during the
whole time; then, when night comes, and we all of us go to bed, I lie
awake thinking, and my heart becomes a prey to the most incessant and
cruel tortures. As the dun nightingale, daughter of Pandareus, sings in
the early spring from her seat in shadiest covert hid, and with many a
plaintive trill pours out the tale how by mishap she killed her own
child Itylus, son of king Zethus, even so does my mind toss and turn in
its uncertainty whether I ought to stay with my son here, and safeguard
my substance, my bondsmen, and the greatness of my house, out of regard
to public opinion and the memory of my late husband, or whether it is
not now time for me to go with the best of these suitors who are wooing
me and making me such magnificent presents. As long as my son was still
young, and unable to understand, he would not hear of my leaving my
husband’s house, but now that he is full grown he begs and prays me to
do so, being incensed at the way in which the suitors are eating up his
property. Listen, then, to a dream that I have had and interpret it for
me if you can. I have twenty geese about the house that eat mash out of
a trough,155 and of which I am exceedingly fond. I dreamed that a great
eagle came swooping down from a mountain, and dug his curved beak into
the neck of each of them till he had killed them all. Presently he
soared off into the sky, and left them lying dead about the yard;
whereon I wept in my dream till all my maids gathered round me, so
piteously was I grieving because the eagle had killed my geese. Then he
came back again, and perching on a projecting rafter spoke to me with
human voice, and told me to leave off crying. ‘Be of good courage,’ he
said, ‘daughter of Icarius; this is no dream, but a vision of good omen
that shall surely come to pass. The geese are the suitors, and I am no
longer an eagle, but your own husband, who am come back to you, and who
will bring these suitors to a disgraceful end.’ On this I woke, and
when I looked out I saw my geese at the trough eating their mash as
usual.”
“This dream, Madam,” replied Ulysses, “can admit but of one
interpretation, for had not Ulysses himself told you how it shall be
fulfilled? The death of the suitors is portended, and not one single
one of them will escape.”
And Penelope answered, “Stranger, dreams are very curious and
unaccountable things, and they do not by any means invariably come
true. There are two gates through which these unsubstantial fancies
proceed; the one is of horn, and the other ivory. Those that come
through the gate of ivory are fatuous, but those from the gate of horn
mean something to those that see them. I do not think, however, that my
own dream came through the gate of horn, though I and my son should be
most thankful if it proves to have done so. Furthermore I say—and lay
my saying to your heart—the coming dawn will usher in the ill-omened
day that is to sever me from the house of Ulysses, for I am about to
hold a tournament of axes. My husband used to set up twelve axes in the
court, one in front of the other, like the stays upon which a ship is
built; he would then go back from them and shoot an arrow through the
whole twelve. I shall make the suitors try to do the same thing, and
whichever of them can string the bow most easily, and send his arrow
through all the twelve axes, him will I follow, and quit this house of
my lawful husband, so goodly and so abounding in wealth. But even so, I
doubt not that I shall remember it in my dreams.”
Then Ulysses answered, “Madam, wife of Ulysses, you need not defer your
tournament, for Ulysses will return ere ever they can string the bow,
handle it how they will, and send their arrows through the iron.”
To this Penelope said, “As long, sir, as you will sit here and talk to
me, I can have no desire to go to bed. Still, people cannot do
permanently without sleep, and heaven has appointed us dwellers on
earth a time for all things. I will therefore go upstairs and recline
upon that couch which I have never ceased to flood with my tears from
the day Ulysses set out for the city with a hateful name.”
She then went upstairs to her own room, not alone, but attended by her
maidens, and when there, she lamented her dear husband till Minerva
shed sweet sleep over her eyelids.
BOOK XX
ULYSSES CANNOT SLEEP—PENELOPE’S PRAYER TO DIANA—THE TWO SIGNS FROM
HEAVEN—EUMAEUS AND PHILOETIUS ARRIVE—THE SUITORS DINE—CTESIPPUS THROWS
AN OX’S FOOT AT ULYSSES—THEOCLYMENUS FORETELLS DISASTER AND LEAVES THE
HOUSE.
Ulysses slept in the cloister upon an undressed bullock’s hide, on the
top of which he threw several skins of the sheep the suitors had eaten,
and Eurynome156 threw a cloak over him after he had laid himself down.
There, then, Ulysses lay wakefully brooding upon the way in which he
should kill the suitors; and by and by, the women who had been in the
habit of misconducting themselves with them, left the house giggling
and laughing with one another. This made Ulysses very angry, and he
doubted whether to get up and kill every single one of them then and
there, or to let them sleep one more and last time with the suitors.
His heart growled within him, and as a bitch with puppies growls and
shows her teeth when she sees a stranger, so did his heart growl with
anger at the evil deeds that were being done: but he beat his breast
and said, “Heart, be still, you had worse than this to bear on the day
when the terrible Cyclops ate your brave companions; yet you bore it in
silence till your cunning got you safe out of the cave, though you made
sure of being killed.”
Thus he chided with his heart, and checked it into endurance, but he
tossed about as one who turns a paunch full of blood and fat in front
of a hot fire, doing it first on one side and then on the other, that
he may get it cooked as soon as possible, even so did he turn himself
about from side to side, thinking all the time how, single handed as he
was, he should contrive to kill so large a body of men as the wicked
suitors. But by and by Minerva came down from heaven in the likeness of
a woman, and hovered over his head saying, “My poor unhappy man, why do
you lie awake in this way? This is your house: your wife is safe inside
it, and so is your son who is just such a young man as any father may
be proud of.”
“Goddess,” answered Ulysses, “all that you have said is true, but I am
in some doubt as to how I shall be able to kill these wicked suitors
single handed, seeing what a number of them there always are. And there
is this further difficulty, which is still more considerable. Supposing
that with Jove’s and your assistance I succeed in killing them, I must
ask you to consider where I am to escape to from their avengers when it
is all over.”
“For shame,” replied Minerva, “why, any one else would trust a worse
ally than myself, even though that ally were only a mortal and less
wise than I am. Am I not a goddess, and have I not protected you
throughout in all your troubles? I tell you plainly that even though
there were fifty bands of men surrounding us and eager to kill us, you
should take all their sheep and cattle, and drive them away with you.
But go to sleep; it is a very bad thing to lie awake all night, and you
shall be out of your troubles before long.”
As she spoke she shed sleep over his eyes, and then went back to
Olympus.
While Ulysses was thus yielding himself to a very deep slumber that
eased the burden of his sorrows, his admirable wife awoke, and sitting
up in her bed began to cry. When she had relieved herself by weeping
she prayed to Diana saying, “Great Goddess Diana, daughter of Jove,
drive an arrow into my heart and slay me; or let some whirlwind snatch
me up and bear me through paths of darkness till it drop me into the
mouths of over-flowing Oceanus, as it did the daughters of Pandareus.