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.

The daughters of Pandareus lost their father and mother, for the gods

killed them, so they were left orphans. But Venus took care of them,

and fed them on cheese, honey, and sweet wine. Juno taught them to

excel all women in beauty of form and understanding; Diana gave them an

imposing presence, and Minerva endowed them with every kind of

accomplishment; but one day when Venus had gone up to Olympus to see

Jove about getting them married (for well does he know both what shall

happen and what not happen to every one) the storm winds came and

spirited them away to become handmaids to the dread Erinyes. Even so I

wish that the gods who live in heaven would hide me from mortal sight,

or that fair Diana might strike me, for I would fain go even beneath

the sad earth if I might do so still looking towards Ulysses only, and

without having to yield myself to a worse man than he was. Besides, no

matter how much people may grieve by day, they can put up with it so

long as they can sleep at night, for when the eyes are closed in

slumber people forget good and ill alike; whereas my misery haunts me

even in my dreams. This very night methought there was one lying by my

side who was like Ulysses as he was when he went away with his host,

and I rejoiced, for I believed that it was no dream, but the very truth

itself.”



On this the day broke, but Ulysses heard the sound of her weeping, and

it puzzled him, for it seemed as though she already knew him and was by

his side. Then he gathered up the cloak and the fleeces on which he had

lain, and set them on a seat in the cloister, but he took the bullock’s

hide out into the open. He lifted up his hands to heaven, and prayed,

saying “Father Jove, since you have seen fit to bring me over land and

sea to my own home after all the afflictions you have laid upon me,

give me a sign out of the mouth of some one or other of those who are

now waking within the house, and let me have another sign of some kind

from outside.”



Thus did he pray. Jove heard his prayer and forthwith thundered high up

among the clouds from the splendour of Olympus, and Ulysses was glad

when he heard it. At the same time within the house, a miller-woman

from hard by in the mill room lifted up her voice and gave him another

sign. There were twelve miller-women whose business it was to grind

wheat and barley which are the staff of life. The others had ground

their task and had gone to take their rest, but this one had not yet

finished, for she was not so strong as they were, and when she heard

the thunder she stopped grinding and gave the sign to her master.

“Father Jove,” said she, “you, who rule over heaven and earth, you have

thundered from a clear sky without so much as a cloud in it, and this

means something for somebody; grant the prayer, then, of me your poor

servant who calls upon you, and let this be the very last day that the

suitors dine in the house of Ulysses. They have worn me out with labour

of grinding meal for them, and I hope they may never have another

dinner anywhere at all.”



Ulysses was glad when he heard the omens conveyed to him by the woman’s

speech, and by the thunder, for he knew they meant that he should

avenge himself on the suitors.



Then the other maids in the house rose and lit the fire on the hearth;

Telemachus also rose and put on his clothes. He girded his sword about

his shoulder, bound his sandals on to his comely feet, and took a

doughty spear with a point of sharpened bronze; then he went to the

threshold of the cloister and said to Euryclea, “Nurse, did you make

the stranger comfortable both as regards bed and board, or did you let

him shift for himself?—for my mother, good woman though she is, has a

way of paying great attention to second-rate people, and of neglecting

others who are in reality much better men.”



“Do not find fault child,” said Euryclea, “when there is no one to find

fault with. The stranger sat and drank his wine as long as he liked:

your mother did ask him if he would take any more bread and he said he

would not. When he wanted to go to bed she told the servants to make

one for him, but he said he was such a wretched outcast that he would

not sleep on a bed and under blankets; he insisted on having an

undressed bullock’s hide and some sheepskins put for him in the

cloister and I threw a cloak over him myself.”157



Then Telemachus went out of the court to the place where the Achaeans

were meeting in assembly; he had his spear in his hand, and he was not

alone, for his two dogs went with him. But Euryclea called the maids

and said, “Come, wake up; set about sweeping the cloisters and

sprinkling them with water to lay the dust; put the covers on the

seats; wipe down the tables, some of you, with a wet sponge; clean out

the mixing-jugs and the cups, and go for water from the fountain at

once; the suitors will be here directly; they will be here early, for

it is a feast day.”



Thus did she speak, and they did even as she had said: twenty of them

went to the fountain for water, and the others set themselves busily to

work about the house. The men who were in attendance on the suitors

also came up and began chopping firewood. By and by the women returned

from the fountain, and the swineherd came after them with the three

best pigs he could pick out. These he let feed about the premises, and

then he said good-humouredly to Ulysses, “Stranger, are the suitors

treating you any better now, or are they as insolent as ever?”



“May heaven,” answered Ulysses, “requite to them the wickedness with

which they deal high-handedly in another man’s house without any sense

of shame.”



Thus did they converse; meanwhile Melanthius the goatherd came up, for

he too was bringing in his best goats for the suitors’ dinner; and he

had two shepherds with him. They tied the goats up under the gatehouse,

and then Melanthius began gibing at Ulysses. “Are you still here,

stranger,” said he, “to pester people by begging about the house? Why

can you not go elsewhere? You and I shall not come to an understanding

before we have given each other a taste of our fists. You beg without

any sense of decency: are there not feasts elsewhere among the

Achaeans, as well as here?”



Ulysses made no answer, but bowed his head and brooded. Then a third

man, Philoetius, joined them, who was bringing in a barren heifer and

some goats. These were brought over by the boatmen who are there to

take people over when any one comes to them. So Philoetius made his

heifer and his goats secure under the gatehouse, and then went up to

the swineherd. “Who, Swineherd,” said he, “is this stranger that is

lately come here? Is he one of your men? What is his family? Where does

he come from? Poor fellow, he looks as if he had been some great man,

but the gods give sorrow to whom they will—even to kings if it so

pleases them.”



As he spoke he went up to Ulysses and saluted him with his right hand;

“Good day to you, father stranger,” said he, “you seem to be very

poorly off now, but I hope you will have better times by and by. Father

Jove, of all gods you are the most malicious. We are your own children,

yet you show us no mercy in all our misery and afflictions. A sweat

came over me when I saw this man, and my eyes filled with tears, for he

reminds me of Ulysses, who I fear is going about in just such rags as

this man’s are, if indeed he is still among the living. If he is

already dead and in the house of Hades, then, alas! for my good master,

who made me his stockman when I was quite young among the

Cephallenians, and now his cattle are countless; no one could have done

better with them than I have, for they have bred like ears of corn;

nevertheless I have to keep bringing them in for others to eat, who

take no heed to his son though he is in the house, and fear not the

wrath of heaven, but are already eager to divide Ulysses’ property

among them because he has been away so long. I have often thought—only

it would not be right while his son is living—of going off with the

cattle to some foreign country; bad as this would be, it is still

harder to stay here and be ill-treated about other people’s herds. My

position is intolerable, and I should long since have run away and put

myself under the protection of some other chief, only that I believe my

poor master will yet return, and send all these suitors flying out of

the house.”



“Stockman,” answered Ulysses, “you seem to be a very well-disposed

person, and I can see that you are a man of sense. Therefore I will

tell you, and will confirm my words with an oath. By Jove, the chief of

all gods, and by that hearth of Ulysses to which I am now come, Ulysses

shall return before you leave this place, and if you are so minded you

shall see him killing the suitors who are now masters here.”



“If Jove were to bring this to pass,” replied the stockman, “you should

see how I would do my very utmost to help him.”



And in like manner Eumaeus prayed that Ulysses might return home.



Thus did they converse. Meanwhile the suitors were hatching a plot to

murder Telemachus: but a bird flew near them on their left hand—an

eagle with a dove in its talons. On this Amphinomus said, “My friends,

this plot of ours to murder Telemachus will not succeed; let us go to

dinner instead.”



The others assented, so they went inside and laid their cloaks on the

benches and seats. They sacrificed the sheep, goats, pigs, and the

heifer, and when the inward meats were cooked they served them round.

They mixed the wine in the mixing-bowls, and the swineherd gave every

man his cup, while Philoetius handed round the bread in the bread

baskets, and Melanthius poured them out their wine. Then they laid

their hands upon the good things that were before them.



Telemachus purposely made Ulysses sit in the part of the cloister that

was paved with stone;158 he gave him a shabby looking seat at a little

table to himself, and had his portion of the inward meats brought to

him, with his wine in a gold cup. “Sit there,” said he, “and drink your

wine among the great people. I will put a stop to the gibes and blows

of the suitors, for this is no public house, but belongs to Ulysses,

and has passed from him to me. Therefore, suitors, keep your hands and

your tongues to yourselves, or there will be mischief.”



The suitors bit their lips, and marvelled at the boldness of his

speech; then Antinous said, “We do not like such language but we will

put up with it, for Telemachus is threatening us in good earnest. If

Jove had let us we should have put a stop to his brave talk ere now.”



Thus spoke Antinous, but Telemachus heeded him not. Meanwhile the

heralds were bringing the holy hecatomb through the city, and the

Achaeans gathered under the shady grove of Apollo.



Then they roasted the outer meat, drew it off the spits, gave every man

his portion, and feasted to their heart’s content; those who waited at

table gave Ulysses exactly the same portion as the others had, for

Telemachus had told them to do so.



But Minerva would not let the suitors for one moment drop their

insolence, for she wanted Ulysses to become still more bitter against

them. Now there happened to be among them a ribald fellow, whose name

was Ctesippus, and who came from Same. This man, confident in his great

wealth, was paying court to the wife of Ulysses, and said to the

suitors, “Hear what I have to say. The stranger has already had as

large a portion as any one else; this is well, for it is not right nor

reasonable to ill-treat any guest of Telemachus who comes here. I will,

however, make him a present on my own account, that he may have

something to give to the bath-woman, or to some other of Ulysses’

servants.”



As he spoke he picked up a heifer’s foot from the meat-basket in which

it lay, and threw it at Ulysses, but Ulysses turned his head a little

aside, and avoided it, smiling grimly Sardinian fashion159 as he did

so, and it hit the wall, not him. On this Telemachus spoke fiercely to

Ctesippus, “It is a good thing for you,” said he, “that the stranger

turned his head so that you missed him. If you had hit him I should

have run you through with my spear, and your father would have had to

see about getting you buried rather than married in this house. So let

me have no more unseemly behaviour from any of you, for I am grown up

now to the knowledge of good and evil and understand what is going on,

instead of being the child that I have been heretofore. I have long

seen you killing my sheep and making free with my corn and wine: I have

put up with this, for one man is no match for many, but do me no

further violence. Still, if you wish to kill me, kill me; I would far

rather die than see such disgraceful scenes day after day—guests

insulted, and men dragging the women servants about the house in an

unseemly way.”



They all held their peace till at last Agelaus son of Damastor said,

“No one should take offence at what has just been said, nor gainsay it,

for it is quite reasonable. Leave off, therefore, ill-treating the

stranger, or any one else of the servants who are about the house; I

would say, however, a friendly word to Telemachus and his mother, which

I trust may commend itself to both. ‘As long,’ I would say, ‘as you had

ground for hoping that Ulysses would one day come home, no one could

complain of your waiting and suffering160 the suitors to be in your

house. It would have been better that he should have returned, but it

is now sufficiently clear that he will never do so; therefore talk all

this quietly over with your mother, and tell her to marry the best man,

and the one who makes her the most advantageous offer. Thus you will

yourself be able to manage your own inheritance, and to eat and drink

in peace, while your mother will look after some other man’s house, not

yours.’”



To this Telemachus answered, “By Jove, Agelaus, and by the sorrows of

my unhappy father, who has either perished far from Ithaca, or is

wandering in some distant land, I throw no obstacles in the way of my

mother’s marriage; on the contrary I urge her to choose whomsoever she

will, and I will give her numberless gifts into the bargain, but I dare

not insist point blank that she shall leave the house against her own

wishes. Heaven forbid that I should do this.”



Minerva now made the suitors fall to laughing immoderately, and set

their wits wandering; but they were laughing with a forced laughter.

Their meat became smeared with blood; their eyes filled with tears, and

their hearts were heavy with forebodings. Theoclymenus saw this and

said, “Unhappy men, what is it that ails you? There is a shroud of

darkness drawn over you from head to foot, your cheeks are wet with

tears; the air is alive with wailing voices; the walls and roof-beams

drip blood; the gate of the cloisters and the court beyond them are

full of ghosts trooping down into the night of hell; the sun is blotted

out of heaven, and a blighting gloom is over all the land.”



Thus did he speak, and they all of them laughed heartily. Eurymachus

then said, “This stranger who has lately come here has lost his senses.

Servants, turn him out into the streets, since he finds it so dark

here.”



But Theoclymenus said, “Eurymachus, you need not send any one with me.

I have eyes, ears, and a pair of feet of my own, to say nothing of an

understanding mind. I will take these out of the house with me, for I

see mischief overhanging you, from which not one of you men who are

insulting people and plotting ill deeds in the house of Ulysses will be

able to escape.”



He left the house as he spoke, and went back to Piraeus who gave him

welcome, but the suitors kept looking at one another and provoking

Telemachus by laughing at the strangers. One insolent fellow said to

him, “Telemachus, you are not happy in your guests; first you have this

importunate tramp, who comes begging bread and wine and has no skill

for work or for hard fighting, but is perfectly useless, and now here

is another fellow who is setting himself up as a prophet. Let me

persuade you, for it will be much better to put them on board ship and

send them off to the Sicels to sell for what they will bring.”



Telemachus gave him no heed, but sat silently watching his father,

expecting every moment that he would begin his attack upon the suitors.



Meanwhile the daughter of Icarius, wise Penelope, had had a rich seat

placed for her facing the court and cloisters, so that she could hear

what every one was saying. The dinner indeed had been prepared amid

much merriment; it had been both good and abundant, for they had

sacrificed many victims; but the supper was yet to come, and nothing

can be conceived more gruesome than the meal which a goddess and a

brave man were soon to lay before them—for they had brought their doom

upon themselves.