Fate of the Suitors
Ulysses had now been away from Ithaca for twenty
years, and when he awoke he did not recognize his
native land:
"Some god hath cast me forth upon this
land,
And O! what land? So thick is the sea mist,
All is phantasmal. What king ruleth here?
What folk inhabit?--cruel unto strangers,
Or hospitable? The gods have lied to me
When they foretold I should see Ithaca.
This is some swimming and Cimmerian isle,
With melancholy people of the mist.
Ah! Ithaca, I shall not see thee
more!"(Stephen Phillips, Ulysses.)
But Minerva, appearing in the form of a young
shepherd, informed him where he was, and told him
the state of things at his palace. More than a
hundred nobles of Ithaca and of the neighboring
islands had been for years suing for the hand of
Penelope, his wife, imagining him dead, and
lording it over his palace and people as if they
were owners of both.
Penelope was one of those mythic heroines whose
beauties were not those of person only, but of
character and conduct as well. She was the niece
of Tyndareus,--being the daughter of his brother
Icarius, a Spartan prince. Ulysses, seeking her in
marriage, had won her over all competitors. But,
when the moment came for the bride to leave her
father's house, Icarius, unable to bear the
thoughts of parting with his daughter, tried to
persuade her to remain with him and not accompany
her husband to Ithaca. Ulysses gave Penelope her
choice, to stay or go with him. Penelope made no
reply, but dropped her veil over her face. Icarius
urged her no further, but when she was gone
erected a statue to Modesty on the spot where they
had parted.
Ulysses and Penelope had not enjoyed their
union more than a year when it was interrupted by
the events which called Ulysses to the Trojan War.
During his long absence, and when it was doubtful
whether he still lived, and highly improbable that
he would ever return, Penelope was importuned by
numerous suitors, from whom there seemed no refuge
but in choosing one of them for her husband. She,
however, employed every art to gain time, still
hoping for Ulysses' return. One of her arts of
delay was by engaging in the preparation of a robe
for the funeral canopy of Laertes, her husband's
father. She pledged herself to make her choice
among the suitors when the web was finished.
During the day she worked at it, but in the night
she undid the work of the day.
That Ulysses on returning might be able to take
vengeance upon the suitors, it was important that
he should not be recognized. Minerva accordingly
metamorphosed him into an unsightly beggar, and as
such he was kindly received by Eumaeus, the
swineherd, a faithful servant of his
house.(Odyssey, 14)
Telemachus, his son, had for some time been
absent in quest of his father, visiting the courts
of the other kings who had returned from the
Trojan expedition. While on the search, he
received counsel from Minerva to return
home.(Odyssey, 15) He arrived at this juncture,
and sought Eumaeus to learn something of the state
of affairs at the palace before presenting himself
among the suitors. Finding a stranger with Eumaeus,
he treated him courteously, though in the garb of
a beggar, and promised him assistance. Eumaeus was
sent to the palace to inform Penelope privately of
her son's arrival, for caution was necessary with
regard to the suitors, who, as Telemachus had
learned, were plotting to intercept and kill him.
When the swineherd was gone, Minerva presented
herself to Ulysses and directed him to make
himself known to his son. At the same time she
touched him, removed at once from him the
appearance of age and penury, and gave him the
aspect of vigorous manhood that belonged to him.
Telemachus viewed him with astonishment, and at
first thought he must be more than mortal. But
Ulysses announced himself as his father, and
accounted for the change of appearance by
explaining that it was Minerva's doing.
Then threw Telemachus
His arms around his father's neck and wept.
Desire intense of lamentation seized
On both; soft murmurs uttering, each indulged
His grief.(Odyssey 16, 212 (Cowper's translation).
The father and son took counsel together how
they should get the better of the suitors and
punish them for their outrages. It was arranged
that Telemachus should proceed to the palace and
mingle with the suitors as formerly; that Ulysses
should also go as a beggar, a character which in
the rude old times had different privileges from
what we concede to it now. As traveler and
story-teller, the beggar was admitted in the halls
of chieftains and often treated like a guest;
though sometimes, also, no doubt, with contumely.
Ulysses charged his son not to betray, by any
display of unusual interest in him, that he knew
him to be other than he seemed, and even if he saw
him insulted or beaten, not to interpose otherwise
than he might do for any stranger. At the palace
they found the usual scene of feasting and riot
going on. The suitors pretended to receive
Telemachus with joy at his return, though secretly
mortified at the failure of their plots to take
his life. The old beggar was permitted to enter
and provided with a portion from the table. A
touching incident occurred as Ulysses entered the
courtyard of the palace. An old dog lay in the
yard almost dead with age, and seeing a stranger
enter, raised his head, with ears erect. It was
Argus, Ulysses' own dog, that he had in other days
often led to the chase.
Soon as he perceived
Long-lost Ulysses nigh, down fell his ears
Clapped close, and with his tail glad sign he gave
Of gratulation, impotent to rise,
And to approach his master as of old.
Ulysses, noting him, wiped off a tear
Unmarked.
. . . Then his destiny released
Old Argus, soon as he had lived to see
Ulysses in the twentieth year restored.(Odyssey,
17, 290 (Cowper's translation).
As Ulysses sat eating his portion in the hall,
the suitors soon began to exhibit their insolence
to him. When he mildly remonstrated, one of them
raised a stool and with it gave him a blow.
Telemachus had hard work to restrain his
indignation at seeing his father so treated in his
own hall; but, remembering his father's
injunctions, said no more than what became him as
master of the house, though young, and protector
of his guests,
Once again was the wanderer all but
betrayed;--when his aged nurse Euryclea, bathing
his feet, recognized the scar of substance they
had squandered, whose wife and son they had
persecuted for ten long years; and told them he
meant to have ample vengeance. All but two were
slain, and Ulysses was left master of his palace
and possessor of his kingdom and his wife.
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