HOMER: "ODYSSEY": BOOK XXIII: ODYSSEUS AND PENELOPE.

HOMER: "ODYSSEY": BOOK XXIII: ODYSSEUS AND PENELOPE.

Introduction:

At the beginning of this, the penultimate book of "The Odyssey", the housewife Eurycleia wakens Penelope and tells her that Odysseus has returned. Initially, Penelope cannot believe that the beggar is Odysseus, but, by testing him in relation to the construction of their marriage-bed, she comes to the conclusion that he is indeed her husband after all. They go to bed and make love.  

Ll. 1-48. Eurycleia tells Penelope that her husband has returned. 

The old woman (i.e. Eurycleia) went up to the upper chamber chuckling, to tell her mistress that her dear husband was indoors; and her knees moved nimbly and her feet went along swiftly beneath (her). And she stood above her head and spoke these words to her: "Wake up, Penelope, dear child, so that you may see with your own eyes what you have longed for every day. Odysseus has come and is here at home, late though he has come. And he has slain the proud wooers, who have disrupted his home and consumed his substance, and harassed his son."

Then, the very thoughtful Penelope answered her: "Dear nurse, the gods have made you mad, those who by their nature have the power to make foolish even one who is very wise, and they regularly set the slack-witted on (the path of) prudence; (it is) they (who) have stupified even you; and you were previously of sound mind. Why then did you make fun of me, who has a heart full of sorrow, to tell me this nonsense and to rouse me from a sweet slumber that has bound me and enfolded my eyelids? For never have I slept so soundly, since (the day) when Odysseus went to look at evil Ilium, (the place) with the unspeakable name. But come now, go down and go back to the hall. For, if any other of the women, that are mine, had come and told me these (things), and had roused me from sleep, for that reason, in my misery, I would have quickly sent her away to return again to the hall; but old age will bring you this benefit." 

Then, the dear nurse Eurycleia spoke to her again: "I am not making a fool of you in any way, dear child, but (it is) really true that Odysseus has returned and is come home, just as I tell (you); (he is) that stranger whom everyone dishonoured in the hall. Telemachus has known for some time that he was home, but, in his wisdom, he hid the knowledge of his father, until he should take his revenge on the violence of overbearing men."

So she (i.e. Eurycleia) spoke, and she (i.e. Penelope) was glad, and leapt from her bed and embraced the old woman, and she let tears fall from her eyelids; and she spoke and addressed her with these winged words: "Come now, dear nurse, and tell me truly, if (it is) true that he has come home as you say, how on earth did he lay his hands on the shameless wooers, (all) alone as he was, while they always remained in the house in a pack."

Then did the dear nurse Eurycleia address her again: "I saw nothing, I was told nothing, but I only heard the groans of (men) being slain; but we (women) sat terror-stricken in the innermost part of our well-built chambers, and the well-fitted doors shut (us) in, (until the time) when your son Telemachus called me from the hall; for his father had sent him out to call (me). Then, I found Odysseus standing among the bodies of the slain; and they stretched (all) around him on the hard floor, lying one on top of another; it would have gladdened your heart to see (him), spattered with blood and gore like a lion. 

Ll. 49-84. Eurycleia insists that Odysseus has returned, despite Penelope's scepticism.

"And now all the (bodies) are in heaps at the gates of the courtyard, but he (i.e. Odysseus) is fumigating our very beautiful house with brimstone, and kindling a great fire; and he has sent me out to call you. But come follow (me), so that the hearts of you both may enter into happiness, since you have suffered many woes. But now at this time your long-deferred desire has been fulfilled; he himself has come alive to his own hearth, and he has found both you and his son in these halls; but the wooers treated him badly, and he has taken revenge on all of them in his house."  

Then, wise Penelope answered her: "Dear nurse, do not exult so loudly (over them) with laughter. For you know how welcome the sight of him would be to all in these halls, but above all to me, and to that son whom we bore. But this tale is not true as you tell it, but one of the immortals has slain the haughty wooers in wrath at their grievous insolence and their evil deeds. For they honoured no one among men on the earth, whoever came among them, neither evil nor good; so (it is) through their own wanton folly that they have suffered disaster; meanwhile, Odysseus in some distant land has lost his (chance of) return to (the land of) Achaea, and is lost himself."    

Then, her dear nurse Eurycleia replied to her: " My child, what words have have come out of your mouth (lit. have escaped the barrier of your teeth)! Your husband is here at his own fireside, (and yet) you declare that he will never come home; your heart is ever untrustworthy. But come, let me tell you something else as definite proof even: the scar which a boar once gave him with his white tusk, I noticed this while I was washing (him), and I wanted to tell you as well. but he clapped his hand over my mouth and, with the great wisdom of his mind, he did not allow (me) to speak. But (come), follow (me), and I shall put my very (life) at stake, so that, if I shall have utterly deceived you, you may slay me by a most pitiable death."

Then, the very thoughtful Penelope answered her: "Dear nurse, even though you are very full of wisdom, (it is) hard for you to comprehend the designs of the gods who are forever. But come, let us go to my son, so that I may see the suitor-men dead, and (the one) who has slain (them)." 

Ll. 85-128. Telemachus rebukes Penelope for not acknowledging that Odysseus has returned. 

So saying, she went down from the upper chamber; and her heart much pondered whether she should stand aloof as she questioned her husband, or whether she should go right up to him and kiss his face and clasp his hands. But, when she had come in and stepped over the stone threshold, then she sat down opposite to Odysseus in the firelight beside the other wall; but he was sitting by a tall pillar. looking down and waiting (to see) whether his comely wife would say anything to him, when she saw (him) with her own eyes. But she sat in silence for a long time, and (a feeling of) amazement came upon her soul; and then, with her gaze, she would look on his face, and then again she would fail to recognise (him), as he had mean raiment on his skin. But Telemachus rebuked (her) and spoke these words to (her) in a loud voice: "My mother, a cruel mother, who has a hard heart, why do you turn your back on my father, and not sit beside him and talk to (him) and ask (him) questions? No other woman with so patient a heart would stand aloof from her husband, who, after suffering many woes, has come back to her in his native land in the twentieth year; but your heart is ever harder than stone."   

Then, wise Penelope answered him: "My child, the heart in my breast is overcome with amazement, nor can I speak any words nor ask a question, nor otherwise look (him) in the face. But if, in very truth, it is Odysseus, and he has come home, we two shall surely know one another better; for we have signs which only we two know, and which are kept hidden from others."  

So she (i.e. Penelope) spoke, and the much-enduring godlike Odysseus smiled, and straightway addressed these winged words to Telemachus: "Telemachus, now indeed do you allow your mother to test me in these halls; and soon she will know (me) better. But now, as I am filthy, and am wearing foul raiment on my body, for this reason she scorns me, and will not yet admit that I am he. But, as for us, let us consider how the very best (things) may happen. For whoever has slain one man in a land, even though there are not many (left) behind to avenge him, he goes into exile and leaves his kinsmen and his native land; but we have slain the mainstays of the city, (those) who (were) by far the best of the youths in Ithaca; and I bid you consider this." 

Then, wise Telemachus spoke to him in reply: "Do you yourself look to this, dear father; for they say that your counsel is the best among men, nor could any other man among mortal men vie with you. And, as for us, we will eagerly follow after you, nor do I think we shall be at all wanting in courage, whatever our strength may be."  

Ll. 129-180. Odysseus and Penelope exchange thoughts. 

Then, Odysseus, (that man) of many wiles, spoke to him in reply: "So then will I tell you what seems to me to be the best (way). In the first place, bathe yourselves and put on your tunics, and tell the handmaids in the halls to take their raiment (i.e. clean dresses). But let the divine minstrel with his clear-toned lyre lead us on the gladsome dance, so that any man who hears (the sound) from outside, whether he is going on a journey, or whether (he is one of those) who live round about, may think it is a wedding feast (n.b. her neighbours had long expected Penelope to remarry); let the widespread rumour of the slaying of the suitor-men not be spread abroad, before we go forth to our well-wooded farm; and then afterwards we shall fortify ourselves with whatever opportunity the Olympian may grant us."  

So he (i.e. Odysseus) spoke, and they readily heard and obeyed him. So, then, firstly they bathed and put on their tunics, and the women adorned themselves; and the divine minstrel took hold of the hollow lyre, and aroused the desire in them for sweet singing and excellent dancing. And their great house resounded with the tread of the dancing men and of the women with beautiful girdles. And thus would a man speak who heard (the noise) from outside the house: "Now indeed a man has wed the much-wooed queen; hardhearted (she was), nor had she the heart to keep the great house of her wedded husband all in one piece, until he came back." 

So did they speak, but they did not know what a state things were in. Meanwhile, the housekeeper Eurynome bathed great-hearted Odysseus in his house, and anointed (him) with oil, and cast about him a fair cloak and tunic; and Athene shed much beauty on his head, and (made) him taller and stouter to look upon; and on his head she made curly locks (to flow). like the flower of the hyacinth. And, as when a man overlays gold with silver, a skilful (workman), whom Hephaestus and Pallas Athene have taught every kind of skill, and the work he produces (is) full of grace, so did (the goddess) shed grace on his head and shoulders. And he came out of the bathing-tub like the immortals in shape; and then he sat back down again on the chair from which he had arisen, opposite his wife, and he spoke the following words to her: "Mysterious (lady), to you beyond (all) tender womenfolk, those who have their dwellings on Olympus have given an implacable heart; no other woman would harden her heart as (you have), and stood aloof from her husband, who, after suffering many woes, has come to her in his native land in the twentieth year. But come, nurse, spread me a couch, so that I myself can lie down; for, assuredly, the heart in her breast (is) made of iron."  

Then, wise Penelope addressed him once more: "Strange (man), I do not bear myself at all proudly, nor do I make light of (you), nor am I too much amazed, but very well do I know what sort (of man) you were, when you went from Ithaca in your long-oared ship. But come, Eurycleia, spread the stout bedstead for him outside the well-built bridal chamber, which he himself made; thither do you bring for him the stout bedstead and cast bedding upon (it), fleeces and cloaks, and glossy blankets."    

Ll. 181-230. By displaying his knowledge of how their bedchamber was constructed, Odysseus persuades Penelope that he is indeed her husband. 

So she (i.e. Penelope) spoke, putting her husband to the test; but Odysseus, with a burst of anger, spoke these words to his knowing and trusty wife: "O woman, this (is) surely a bitter word that you have spoken; who has put my bed elsewhere? Hard would it be (for one to do so), even if he were very skilled, unless a god himself should come and wish to place (it) easily in another spot. But among men, (there is) no living mortal, even though (he were in) the very prime of youth, who could easily pry (it) from its place, since a great secret is secured in this curiously wrought bed; and (it was) I who built it and no one else. A bush of long-leafed olives, fully grown and blooming, was growing within the courtyard; and it was as massive as a pillar. And round about it, I built my bedchamber with closely-fitting stones, until I had finished (it), and I roofed (it) over well from above, and added well-fastened and closely-fitting doors. Thereafter, I cut off the leafy branches of the long-leafed olive-tree, and very skilfully trimmed the trunk from the root, and made it straight to the line, (thus) fashioning the bedpost, and I bored everything through with the gimlet. Beginning from this, I carved out my bed, until I had finished (it), embellishing (it) with gold, and silver and ivory; and from (it) I stretched a thong of ox-hide, brightly (dyed) with purple. So I declare to you this token; but, woman, I do not know at all whether my bedstead is still firmly-set, or whether some man has now placed (it) somewhere else, having cut (it) from beneath the olive stump." 

So he (i.e. Odysseus) spoke, and her knees were loosened and her heart (melted) there, as she knew well the sure tokens which Odysseus had shown her; then, she burst into tears and ran straight (towards him), and flung her arms around the neck of Odysseus, and kissed his head and spoke these words: "Do not be angry with me, Odysseus, for you were always the most understanding of men; for the gods sent us misery, (they) who resented that we two should remain with each other, and enjoy our youth and reach the threshold of old age. But do not be angry with me now, nor full of indignation, because, when I saw you for the first time, I did not thus welcome (you). For the heart in my breast was always full of dread, lest some man should come and beguile me with his words; for many (men) devise evil tricks. Not even Argive Helen, born of Zeus, would have lain in bed with a loving man from another country, if she had known that the warlike sons of the Achaeans would bring her home again to her dear native land. Yet, in truth, a god prompted her to undertake a shameful deed; not until then had she put in her mind the (thought) of that grievous folly, from which grief came upon in the first place too. But now, since you have recounted the clear tokens of our bed, which no other mortal has seen, save you and I alone, and one solitary handmaid, the daughter of Actor, whom my father gave me, when I came here, (she) who kept guard of the doors of our strong bridal chamber, you are persuading my heart, so very stubborn as it is." 

Ll. 231-262.  Odysseus and Penelope embrace each other. 

So she (i.e. Penelope) spoke, and she aroused in (him) still more the longing for lamentation, and he wept as he held his delightful wife (in his arms), trustworthy and sensible (as she was). And welcome as (is the sight of) land, when it is seen by swimmers, whose well-built ship, driven on by the wind and the sturdy waves, Poseidon has shattered in the sea; but a few have made their escape (by) swimming from the gray sea to the mainland, and brine clusters thickly around their bodies, and gladly have they set their foot on land, having escaped from their evil (situation); just so was the sight of her husband welcome to her, as she gazed upon (him), and in no way could she let her white arms go from his neck. And now the rosy-fingered Dawn would have disclosed their weeping, if the bright-eyed goddess Athene had not had other ideas. The long night she held back at its extremity, and likewise she held back the golden-throned Dawn at (the streams of) Ocean, and she would not allow (her) to yoke her swift-footed steeds who bring light to men, Lampus and Phaethon (that is), who (are) the colts (that) bring the Dawn. 

Then, Odysseus, (that man) of many wiles, said to his wife: "O wife, we have not yet come to the end of all our trials, but there is still in the future an immeasurable toil, long and hard, which I must accomplish. For so did the spirit of Teiresias prophesy for me, on the day when I went down into the house of Hades to inquire about the return of my comrades and myself. But come, wife, let us go to bed, so that, lulled now by sweet slumber, we may find our happiness." 

But, then, very thoughtful Penelope answered him: "Your bed will be there for you, whenever your heart shall desire (it), since the gods have arranged that you should come back to your well-built house and to your native land; but, since you have thought of (this), and a god has put (it) into your mind, come tell me of this ordeal, since I think I shall learn of (it) in the future, and to know it straightaway is not all worse."

Ll. 263-309. Odysseus tells Penelope of what Teiresias had prophesied for him in the future, and then the two of them go to bed. 

And Odysseus, (that man) of many wiles, spoke to her in reply: "(What) a strange (lady you are)! Why then do you tell me to encourage (you) to say (something)? Yet I will say (it) and not hide (anything). But your heart will have no joy of (it); for I myself am not glad, since he (i.e. Teiresias) bade me go forth to very many cities of men, bearing a well-shaped oar in my hands, until I should come to those men who know nothing of the sea, and do not eat food (that is) mingled with salt; nor do they know of ships with red bows, nor of well-shaped oars that serve as wings to ships. And he told me of this clearly visible sign, and I shall not conceal (it); when another wayfarer, on meeting me, should say that I had a winnowing fan on my stout shoulder, then he bade me fix my oar in the earth and offer goodly sacrifices to lord Poseidon, a ram, and a bull, and a boar that mates with sows, and go back to my home and offer sacred hecatombs to the immortal gods that hold broad heaven, to each one in due order; and to me myself death will come away from the sea, such a very gentle (death) that it shall overcome me, when I am worn out by sleek old age; and my people shall dwell in prosperity around me; and to me he said that all these (things) would be fulfilled."

Then, wise Penelope spoke to him once more: "If the gods are to arrange a better old age (for you), then there is hope that there will be an escape for you from evil (things)."

Thus, they said such (things) to each other; and, in the meantime, both Eurynome and the nurse made up the bed with soft bedclothes by the bright light of torches. But, when they had hastily spread the sturdy marriage-bed, the old woman went back to her quarters to lie down, and the bridesmaid Eurynome led them on their way to bed, holding a torch in her hands; and, when she had led them to the bridal-chamber, she went back. Then, they gladly came to the location of their old marriage-bed; then, Telemachus and the herdsman (i.e. Philoetius) and the swineherd (i.e. Eumaeus) stopped their feet from dancing, and stopped the women, and they themselves laid down to sleep throughout the darkening halls. 

But, when the two of them had enjoyed the pleasures of love-making, they took delight in tales, as they talked to each other, and she, the most divine of women, (told him) of all the (things) she had endured in his halls, as she looked upon that destructive throng of suitor-men, who, for her sake, slew many (beasts), cattle and chubby sheep, and a great deal of wine was drawn from the casks. But Zeus-born Odysseus told of all the woes he had brought on men, and of all the sorrows that he himself had suffered; and she was glad to listen, nor did sleep fall upon her eyelids till he has told (her) everything. 

Ll. 310-343. Odysseus recounts the story of his travels to Penelope. 

He began by telling (her) how he had, at first, subdued the Cicones (i.e. Thracian allies of the Trojans), but then he came to the rich land of the Lotus-eating men; and all the (things) that the Cyclops (i.e. Polyphemus) did, and how he had made him pay the price for his mighty comrades, whom he had eaten and (to whom) he had shown no pity; and how he came to Aeolus (i.e. the guardian of the winds), who readily received him and sent (him on his way), but it was not yet his destiny to come to his native land, but the hurricane caught hold of him again and bore him over the teeming deep, groaning heavily; and how he came to Telepylus of the Laestrygonians (i.e. a tribe of cannibals), who destroyed his ships and his well-greaved comrades; and Odysseus alone escaped in his black ship; and he told (her) of the cunning and resourcefulness of Circe, and how he had gone to the dank house of Hades in his ship with many benches to consult with the spirit of the Theban Teiresias, and had seen all his comrades and the mother (i.e. Anticleia) who bore him and reared (him) when he was small; and how he heard the voice of close-packed Sirens, and how he came to the Wandering Rocks, and to dread Charybdis, and to Scylla, from whom no man has ever yet escaped unscathed, and how Zeus, who thunders on high, smote his swift ship with a smouldering thunderbolt, and his noble companions all perished at the same time, but he himself escaped from an evil death; and how he came to the island of Ogygia and the nymph Calypso, who trapped him (there) in her hollow caves, yearning that he should be her husband, and she took care of (him), and said that she would make (him) immortal and ageless all his days; but she could never persuade the heart in his breast; and how, after much suffering, he came to the Phaeacians, who honoured him in their hearts like a god, and they sent him to his own native land with a ship, after giving (him) bronze and gold, and plenty of clothes. This (was) the last word he spoke, when sweet sleep that relaxes the limbs sprang upon him, and released the cares of his heart.     

Ll. 344-372. Odysseus advises Penelope to keep out of the way. 

Then did the bright-eyed goddess Athene have another idea; when she thought that Odysseus had found joy in his heart, and also sleep, in the bed of his wife, straightway she aroused the golden-throned child of the morning (i.e. Dawn) from the Ocean, in order to bring light to men; and Odysseus rose from his soft couch and gave these orders to his wife: "O wife, already we have both had our fill of many ordeals, you here, lamenting over my grievous journey home. But Zeus and the other gods bound me fast in sorrows far from my native land; but now, as we have both come to our much-loved bed, you must take care of the possessions that I have in these halls, and, as for those flocks of mine which the arrogant wooers so wasted, I myself will carry off just as much as booty, but the Achaeans will give others, until they fill all the folds. But I shall certainly go to our well-wooded farm to see my noble father (i.e. Laertes), who, on my behalf, is sorely distressed; and on you, my wife, I lay down this requirement, understanding though you are: for straightway, with the rising of the sun, there will be a report concerning the suitor-men, whom I slew in these halls; go up to your upstairs room with your handmaidens and stay there, and do not look at anything or ask a question."

So he (i.e. Odysseus) spoke, and donned his beautiful armour around his shoulders, and he roused Telemachus, and the herdsman and the swineherd, and told (them) all to take up weapons of war in their hands. And they did not disobey him, but clad themselves in bronze, and they opened the doors and went out; and Odysseus led the way. There was already light on the earth, but Athene concealed them in the darkness, and led (them) swiftly out of the city.