From the house of Eumaeus the seeming beggar took his way, leaning on his
staff, till he reached the palace, entering in at the hall where the
suitors sat at meat. They in the pride of their feasting began to break
their jests in mirthful manner, when they saw one looking so poor and so
aged approach. He, who expected no better entertainment, was nothing moved
at their behaviour, but, as became the character which he had assumed, in
a suppliant posture crept by turns to every suitor, and held out his hands
for some charity, with such a natural and beggar-resembling grace that he
might seem to have practised begging all his life; yet there was a sort of
dignity in his most abject stoopings, that whoever had seen him would have
said, If it had pleased Heaven that this poor man had been born a king, he
would gracefully have filled a throne. And some pitied him, and some gave
him alms, as their present humours inclined them, but the greater part
reviled him, and bade him begone, as one that spoiled their feast; for the
presence of misery has this power with it, that, while it stays, it can
ash and overturn the mirth even of those who feel no pity or wish to
relieve it: nature bearing this witness of herself in the hearts of the
most obdurate.
[Illustration: _But the greater part reviled him and bade him begone_.]
Now Telemachus sat at meat with the suitors, and knew that it was the king
his father who in that shape begged an alms; and when his father came and
presented himself before him in turn, as he had done to the suitors one by
one, he gave him of his own meat which he had in his dish, and of his own
cup to drink. And the suitors were past measure offended to see a pitiful
beggar, as they esteemed him, to be so choicely regarded by the prince.
Then Antinous, who was a great lord, and of chief note among the suitors,
said, "Prince Telemachus does ill to encourage these wandering beggars,
who go from place to place, affirming that they have been some
considerable persons in their time, filling the ears of such as hearken to
them with lies, and pressing with their bold feet into kings' palaces.
This is some saucy vagabond, some travelling Egyptian."
"I see," said Ulysses, "that a poor man should get but little at your
board; scarce should he get salt from your hands, if he brought his own
meat."
Lord Antinous, indignant to be answered with such sharpness by a supposed
beggar, snatched up a stool, with which he smote Ulysses where the neck
and shoulders join. This usage moved not Ulysses; but in his great heart
he meditated deep evils to come upon them all, which for a time must be
kept close, and he went and sat himself down in the door-way to eat of
that which was given him; and he said, "For life or possessions a man will
fight, but for his belly this man smites. If a poor man has any god to
take his part, my lord Antinous shall not live to be the queen's husband."
Then Antinous raged highly, and threatened to drag him by the heels, and
to rend his rags about his ears, if he spoke another word.
But the other suitors did in nowise approve of the harsh language, nor of
the blow which Antinous had dealt; and some of them said, "Who knows but
one of the deities goes about hid under that poor disguise? for in the
likeness of poor pilgrims the gods have many times descended to try the
dispositions of men, whether they be humane or impious." While these
things passed, Telemachus sat and observed all, but held his peace,
remembering the instructions of his father. But secretly he waited for the
sign which Minerva was to send from heaven.
That day there followed Ulysses to the court one of the common sort of
beggars, Irus by name, one that had received alms beforetime of the
suitors, and was their ordinary sport, when they were inclined (as that
day) to give way to mirth, to see him eat and drink; for he had the
appetite of six men, and was of huge stature and proportions of body; yet
had in him no spirit nor courage of a man. This man, thinking to curry
favour with the suitors, and recommend himself especially to such a great
lord as Antinous was, began to revile and scorn Ulysses, putting foul
language upon him, and fairly challenging him to fight with the fist. But
Ulysses, deeming his railings to be nothing more than jealousy and that
envious disposition which beggars commonly manifest to brothers in their
trade, mildly besought him not to trouble him, but to enjoy that portion
which the liberality of their entertainers gave him, as he did quietly;
seeing that, of their bounty, there was sufficient for all.
But Irus, thinking that this forbearance in Ulysses was nothing more than
a sign of fear, so much the more highly stormed, and bellowed, and
provoked him to fight; and by this time the quarrel had attracted the
notice of the suitors, who with loud laughters and shouting egged on the
dispute, and lord Antinous swore by all the gods it should be a battle,
and that in that hall the strife should be determined. To this the rest of
the suitors with violent clamours acceded, and a circle was made for the
combatants, and a fat goat was proposed as the victor's prize, as at the
Olympic or the Pythian games. Then Ulysses, seeing no remedy, or being not
unwilling that the suitors should behold some proof of that strength which
ere long in their own persons they were to taste of, stripped himself, and
prepared for the combat. But first he demanded that he should have fair
play shown him, that none in that assembly should aid his opponent, or
take part against him, for, being an old man, they might easily crush him
with their strengths. And Telemachus passed his word that no foul play
should be shown him, but that each party should be left to their own
unassisted strengths, and to this he made Antinous and the rest of the
suitors swear.
But when Ulysses had laid aside his garments, and was bare to the waist,
all the beholders admired at the goodly sight of his large shoulders,
being of such exquisite shape and whiteness, and at his great and brawny
bosom, and the youthful strength which seemed to remain in a man thought
so old; and they said, What limbs and what sinews he has! and coward fear
seized on the mind of that great vast beggar, and he dropped his threats,
and his big words, and would have fled, but lord Antinous stayed him, and
threatened him that if he declined the combat, he would put him in a ship,
and land him on the shores where king Echetus reigned, the roughest tyrant
which at that time the world contained, and who had that antipathy to
rascal beggars, such as he, that when any landed on his coast he would
crop their ears and noses and give them to the dogs to tear. So Irus, in
whom fear of king Echetus prevailed above the fear of Ulysses, addressed
himself to fight. But Ulysses, provoked to be engaged in so odious a
strife with a fellow of his base conditions, and loathing longer to be
made a spectacle to entertain the eyes of his foes, with one blow, which
he struck him beneath the ear, so shattered the teeth and jawbone of this
soon baffled coward that he laid him sprawling in the dust, with small
stomach or ability to renew the contest. Then raising him on his feet, he
led him bleeding and sputtering to the door, and put his staff into his
hand, and bade him go use his command upon dogs and swine, but not presume
himself to be lord of the guests another time, nor of the beggary!
The suitors applauded in their vain minds the issue of the contest, and
rioted in mirth at the expense of poor Irus, who they vowed should be
forthwith embarked, and sent to king Echetus; and they bestowed thanks on
Ulysses for ridding the court of that unsavoury morsel, as they called
him; but in their inward souls they would not have cared if Irus had been
victor, and Ulysses had taken the foil, but it was mirth to them to see
the beggars fight. In such pastimes and light entertainments the day wore
away.
When evening was come, the suitors betook themselves to music and dancing.
And Ulysses leaned his back against a pillar from which certain lamps hung
which gave light to the dancers, and he made show of watching the dancers,
but very different thoughts were in his head. And as he stood near the
lamps, the light fell upon his head, which was thin of hair and bald, as
an old man's. And Eurymachus, a suitor, taking occasion from some words
which were spoken before, scoffed, and said, "Now I know for a certainty
that some god lurks under the poor and beggarly appearance of this man,
for, as he stands by the lamps, his sleek head throws beams around it,
like as it were a glory." And another said, "He passes his time, too, not
much unlike the gods, lazily living exempt from labour, taking offerings
of men." "I warrant," said Eurymachus again, "he could not raise a fence
or dig a ditch for his livelihood, if a man would hire him to work in a
garden."
"I wish," said Ulysses, "that you who speak this and myself were to be
tried at any taskwork: that I had a good crooked scythe put in my hand,
that was sharp and strong, and you such another, where the grass grew
longest, to be up by daybreak, mowing the meadows till the sun went down,
not tasting of food till we had finished; or that we were set to plough
four acres in one day of good glebe land, to see whose furrows were
evenest and cleanest; or that we might have one wrestling-bout together;
or that in our right hands a good steel-headed lance were placed, to try
whose blows fell heaviest and thickest upon the adversary's head-piece. I
would cause you such work as you should have small reason to reproach me
with being slack at work. But you would do well to spare me this reproach,
and to save your strength till the owner of this house shall return, till
the day when Ulysses shall return, when returning he shall enter upon his
birthright."
This was a galling speech to those suitors, to whom Ulysses's return was
indeed the thing which they most dreaded; and a sudden fear fell upon
their souls, as if they were sensible of the real presence of that man who
did indeed stand amongst them, but not in that form as they might know
him; and Eurymachus, incensed, snatched a massy cup which stood on a table
near and hurled it at the head of the supposed beggar, and but narrowly
missed the hitting of him; and all the suitors rose, as at once, to thrust
him out of the hall, which they said his beggarly presence and his rude
speeches had profaned. But Telemachus cried to them to forbear, and not to
presume to lay hands upon a wretched man to whom he had promised
protection. He asked if they were mad, to mix such abhorred uproar with
his feasts. He bade them take their food and their wine, to sit up or to
go to bed at their free pleasures, so long as he should give license to
that freedom; but why should they abuse his banquet, or let the words
which a poor beggar spake have power to move their spleens so fiercely'
They bit their lips and frowned for anger to be checked so by a youth;
nevertheless for that time they had the grace to abstain, either for
shame, or that Minerva had infused into them a terror of Ulysses's son.
So that day's feast was concluded without bloodshed, and the suitors,
tired with their sports, departed severally each man to his apartment.
Only Ulysses and Telemachus remained. And now Telemachus, by his father's
direction, went and brought down into the hall armour and lances from the
armoury; for Ulysses said, "On the morrow we shall have need of them." And
moreover he said, "If any one shall ask why you have taken them down, say
it is to clean them and scour them from the rust which they have gathered
since the owner of this house went for Troy." And as Telemachus stood by
the armour, the lights were all gone out, and it was pitch dark, and the
armour gave out glistering beams as of fire, and he said to his father,
"The pillars of the house are on fire." And his father said, "It is the
gods who sit above the stars, and have power to make the night as light as
the day." And he took it for a good omen. And Telemachus fell to cleaning
and sharpening of the lances.
Now Ulysses had not seen his wife Penelope in all the time since his
return; for the queen did not care to mingle with the suitors at their
banquets, but, as became one that had been Ulysses's wife, kept much in
private, spinning and doing her excellent housewiferies among her maids in
the remote apartments of the palace. Only upon solemn days she would come
down and show herself to the suitors. And Ulysses was filled with a
longing desire to see his wife again, whom for twenty years he had not
beheld, and he softly stole through the known passages of his beautiful
house, till he came where the maids were lighting the queen through a
stately gallery that led to the chamber where she slept. And when the
maids saw Ulysses, they said, "It is the beggar who came to the court to-
day, about whom all that uproar was stirred up in the hall: what does he
here?" But Penelope gave commandment that he should be brought before her,
for she said, "It may be that he has travelled, and has heard something
concerning Ulysses."
[Illustration: _Where the maids were lighting the queen through a stately
gallery_.]
Then was Ulysses right glad to hear himself named by his queen, to find
himself in nowise forgotten, nor her great love towards him decayed in all
that time that he had been away And he stood before his queen, and she
knew him not to be Ulysses, but supposed that he had been some poor
traveller. And she asked him of what country he was.
He told her (as he had before told Eumaeus) that he was a Cretan born,
and, however poor and cast down he now seemed, no less a man than brother
to Idomeneus, who was grandson to king Minos; and though he now wanted
bread, he had once had it in his power to feast Ulysses. Then he feigned
how Ulysses, sailing for Troy, was forced by stress of weather to put his
fleet in at a port of Crete, where for twelve days he was his guest, and
entertained by him with all befitting guest-rites. And he described the
very garments which Ulysses had on, by which Penelope knew he had seen her
lord.
In this manner Ulysses told his wife many tales of himself, at most but
painting, but painting so near to the life that the feeling of that which
she took in at her ears became so strong that the kindly tears ran down
her fair cheeks, while she thought upon her lord, dead as she thought him,
and heavily mourned the loss of him whom she missed, whom she could not
find, though in very deed he stood so near her.
Ulysses was moved to see her weep, but he kept his own eyes dry as iron or
horn in their lids, putting a bridle upon his strong passion, that it
should not issue to sight.
Then told he how he had lately been at the court of Thesprotia, and what
he had learned concerning Ulysses there, in order as he had delivered to
Eumaeus; and Penelope was wont to believe that there might be a
possibility of Ulysses being alive, and she said, "I dreamed a dream this
morning. Methought I had twenty household fowl which did eat wheat steeped
in water from my hand, and there came suddenly from the clouds a crooked-
beaked hawk, who soused on them and killed them all, trussing their necks;
then took his flight back up to the clouds. And in my dream methought that
I wept and made great moan for my fowls, and for the destruction which the
hawk had made; and my maids came about me to comfort me. And in the height
of my griefs the hawk came back, and lighting upon the beam of my chamber,
he said to me in a man's voice, which sounded strangely even in my dream,
to hear a hawk to speak: 'Be of good cheer,' he said, 'O daughter of
Icarius for this is no dream which thou hast seen, but that which shall
happen to thee indeed. Those household fowl, which thou lamentest so
without reason, are the suitors who devour thy substance, even as thou
sawest the fowl eat from thy hand; and the hawk is thy husband, who is
coming to give death to the suitors.' And I awoke, and went to see to my
fowls if they were alive, whom I found eating wheat from their troughs,
all well and safe as before my dream."
Then said Ulysses, "This dream can endure no other interpretation than
that which the hawk gave to it, who is your lord, and who is coming
quickly to effect all that his words told you."
"Your words," she said, "my old guest, are so sweet that would you sit and
please me with your speech, my ears would never let my eyes close their
spheres for very joy of your discourse; but none that is merely mortal can
live without the death of sleep, so the gods who are without death
themselves have ordained it, to keep the memory of our mortality in our
minds, while we experience that as much as we live we die every day; in
which consideration I will ascend my bed, which I have nightly watered
with my tears since he that was the joy of it departed for that bad city"
--she so speaking because she could not bring her lips to name the name of
Troy so much hated. So for that night they parted, Penelope to her bed and
Ulysses to his son, and to the armour and the lances in the hall, where
they sat up all night cleaning and watching by the armour.
Read next: CHAPTER TEN - The Madness from Above--The Bow of Ulysses--The Slaughter--The Conclusion.
Read previous: CHAPTER EIGHT - The Change from a King to a Beggar--Eumaeus and the Herdsmen--Telemachus.
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