Reading 1
Book 1
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MAN—tell me, Muse, of the versatile man of many adventures, who wandered much after he had sacked the holy town of Troy. He visited many cities and knew the mind and thoughts of many men. When he was out to sea, he suffered much pain in his spirit in the attempt to save his own life and win his comrades their return home. Whatever he did, though, he could not save his men, for they were destroyed through their own recklessness by eating the cattle of Helios, the sun god Hyperion. The fools! So the god snatched away the day of their return. [10] From whatever source you may know these things, goddess, daughter of Zeus, speak to us of these.
So then, all the rest of them, the ones who had escaped utter destruction, were at home having fled both the dangers of the war and the sea. That man alone, though he was longing to return home and for his wife, was detained by the queenly goddess Calypso, who kept him in her hollow caves and wanted to marry him. But as the years revolved one after the other, there came a day when the gods all agreed it was his destined time to return home to Ithaca. Yet even then his troubles were not over. When home among his dear people, he suffered more. Nevertheless, all the gods had now begun to pity him—[20] all except for Poseidon, who still hotly raged against him without ceasing until godlike Odysseus came to his own land.
Now Poseidon had gone off to the Ethiopians, who are at the world’s end and live far apart from other men. They are divided in two. Half of them live where the Sun sets, and the other half live where he rises. He had gone to them to accept a hecatomb of bulls and rams. And seated, he was delighting himself at the feast.
The other gods were assembled together in the great halls of Olympian Zeus. And among them, the father of men and gods spoke first. He had in mind the nobleman Aegisthus, [30] who had been killed by far-famed Orestes, the son of Agamemnon. And so, thinking about this, he addressed the other immortals:
“How shameful it is that the mortals even now blame the gods! From us, they say, come all sorts of bad things. But it is through their own recklessness that they have sorrows beyond those that are fated. Look at Aegisthus! Beyond fate he felt like he had to make love to Agamemnon’s wife, and then kill Agamemnon upon his return home. He did this even though he knew it would mean his own utter destruction! Aegisthus knew he would die because I sent Hermes, the watchful slayer of Argus, to warn him that he should neither woo Agamemnon’s wife nor slay the man. [40] Hermes explained that Orestes would surely make Aegisthus pay for Agamemnon’s death when he reached his prime and longed for his homeland. That’s what Hermes said. But his good intentions toward the man didn’t convince Aegisthus. And so now he’s paid the price in full.”
Then the goddess, bright-eyed Athena, said in turn, “Father of us all, the son of Cronus, highest ruler—it seems to me that Aegisthus, who is now dead, earned his destruction. Given what he did, it was fitting. Anyone who does what he did deserves the same. But Aegisthus is neither here nor there. No, my heart is torn in two over the fate of wise Odysseus, that ill-fated man. He’s suffering pain far from all his loved ones [50], trapped on an island in the middle of the sea. It’s an island covered with forest, and a goddess lives there, the daughter of destruction-minded Atlas, who knowingly stands in the depths and carries the great columns that separate the sky from the earth. This daughter of Atlas detains Odysseus, wretched and weeping, and makes him forget Ithaca by means of soft attractions, wheedling flattery, and beguiling enchantments. Regardless, he’s tired of life with her and wants to die. He can think of nothing more than how to return—even if only to see the smoke rising up from his own land. Yet now, Olympian god, [60] you do not think about these things in your dear heart. Didn’t Odysseus delight you with many sacrifices by the Argive ships when he was in the wide land of Troy? Why do you hate him so much, Zeus?”
In reply, cloud-gathering Zeus said, “My child, what’s this word that has flown past the wall of your teeth? How can I forget godlike Odysseus? He surpasses all mortals in his mind, and no man offers more sacrifices to the immortal gods, who possess the wide sky above. No, it’s not me. Rather, earth-carrying Poseidon obstinately rages against Odysseus because he blinded the Cyclops—he blinded the eye of [70] godlike Polyphemus, whose strength is the greatest among all the Cyclopes. The nymph Thoōsa, the daughter of Phorkys who rules over the barren sea, gave birth to Polyphemus when she lay in love with Poseidon in the hollow caves. Therefore, even though the Earth-shaker Poseidon will not slay Odysseus, he leads him far astray from his homeland. But come, let us all consider his return home, how he will go. And Poseidon must let go of his anger. For if we are all together, then he won’t have the power to stand alone in strife with all the immortal gods.”
[80] Then the goddess, bright-eyed Athena, said in turn, “Father of us all, the son of Cronus, highest ruler—if much-thinking Odysseus’ return home is now pleasing to the blessed gods, then we should encourage the messenger Hermes, the slayer of Argus, to quickly go the island of Ogygia to tell fair-headed Calypso our inviolable plan about stouthearted Odysseus’ return, that he may go. Meanwhile, I will go to Ithaca in order to stir up his son Telemachus and put courage into his heart. [90] He will then call the long-haired Achaeans to an assembly to renounce all his mother Penelope’s suitors—the same ones who keep on slaughtering and eating up all his wooly sheep and lumbering cattle. I will also conduct him to Sparta and to sandy Pylos, to see if he can learn anything about his dear father’s return—if somewhere he hears anything—and so that he will have noble glory among men.”
96-157 Finishing her speech, Athena flies down to Ithaca and appears in the doorway of Odysseus’ house in the guise of Mentes, the leader of the Taphians. Holding a spear, she sees all the “arrogant suitors” delighting in the checkers-like game of pessos, while the various servants and other men are mixing the wine and carving the meat.
Deep in thought about his lost father Odysseus, daydreaming about his glorious return, Telemachus spots Athena-Mentes and rushes out to meet her in the doorway, feeling ashamed that a guest was made to wait for so long. Greeting her, Telemachus promises help once she’s had wine and food. Inside, he sits Athena-Mentes away from where the suitors usually recline.
After some time, the suitors come in and begin to feast and enjoy themselves. Eventually, the bard Phemius plays the lyre and sings at their command, and Telemachus speaks quietly to his guest so the suitors cannot hear him.
158-220 “Dear stranger, I trust that you will not be offended by what I’m going to say. A bard is cheap entertainment for those who don’t pay for him. [160] All this—the drinking, the feasting, the lyre playing and singing, the consumption of another man’s riches—is done at the expense of one whose bones lie rotting in some wilderness or grinding to powder in the surf. But if these men saw my father return to Ithaca, they would pray for longer legs and speed than to be richer in gold and fine clothing. But now he has been killed by some evil fate. We no longer feel any hope or comfort when we hear some man say that he’s coming home. No, the day of his return has been lost forever. But come, tell me this, and recount it accurately. [170] Who are you among men and where do you come from? Tell me about your city and parents. And what kind of ship you came in. And what course the sailors took to bring you here to Ithaca. And who are these sailors—what land do they boast is their own? I ask because I don’t imagine you walked here. And declare to me the truth of this so that I may know it well: is this your first visit to our house, or are you my father’s guest-friend? I ask because in the past a great number of men visited our house since my father traveled much and stayed with many other men.”
The goddess, bright-eyed Athena, said to him, “I’ll truly give you all you want to know. [180] I boast that I am Mentes, the son of battle-minded Anchialus, and I rule over the oar-loving Taphians. I have come here with my ship and crew on a voyage over the wine-faced sea to men of a strange tongue. We are bound for Temese with a cargo of iron, and we hope to bring back copper. As for my ship, it is anchored away from the city, in the harbor of Rheithron, under the wooded mountain Neion.
“Our fathers were friends before us, as old Laertes will tell you if you will go and ask him. They say, however, that he never goes to the city now [190] and lives far away in the fields, suffering misery, with an old woman to look after and get his dinner for him when he comes in tired from the vineyard.
“I have come because some men told me your father was at home again among his people. Nevertheless, it seems the gods are still keeping him back, putting obstacles in his way. I don’t believe godlike Odysseus is dead somewhere along the paths of the earth. No, I imagine he is alive on some island in the middle of the wide sea. It’s likely he’s detained there, held by dangerous men—by wild and uncivilized men. [200] Look, I am no seer. And I know very little about bird signs. But I’ll speak to you as the immortals give it to me, and I believe it will happen this way. Your dear father will not be away from his homeland for much longer. For your father is a man of many resources and abilities. Even if he were held in chains of iron, he would find some way to get home again.
“But come, tell me this, and recount it accurately: are you, so tall as you are, truly the son of Odysseus? It is a wonder to see how much you are like him—your head and face and your fine-looking eyes. I know because we were close friends [210] before he embarked for Troy with the rest of the Argives, the best of them, in their hollow ships. But since then, we haven’t seen each other.”
In turn, mindful Telemachus answered her, “Well then, stranger, I’ll explain to you everything as it is. My mother tells me that I am Odysseus’ son. But me—I don’t know. For what man has ever known his male ancestors with certainty? Whatever the case, I wish I had been the son of a blessed man, an advantaged man who was surrounded by his wealth and possessions when old age came to him. But now Odysseus has come to be unhappy among mortal men. [220] And this, they say, is the one who fathered me. I tell you this only because you asked.”
221-305 Athena-Mentes assures Telemachus that his is not an unknown and “nameless” family line. Then she asks him to explain the suitors’ unseemly feasting—as it does not appear to fall under the usual categories of celebration, a festal banquet, or a feast to mark a wedding. She observes the suitors’ obnoxious, overbearing behavior. It is shameful—surely to arouse wrath, she remarks.
Telemachus groans and wishes his father had been honored by the Achaeans with a great burial mound and glory. Rather, he suspects the Harpies have caused him to vanish. So it is that the best of men who rule the land and islands surrounding Ithaca woo Penelope, his mother, as if Odysseus were dead. These are the suitors. But she will not tell one of them yes or no, and so they consume the wealth of the house.
Athena-Mentes angrily wishes that Odysseus might come and forcefully drive the suitors away with spear and shield in hand. Whether he will or not, however, is up to the gods. She then advises Telemachus to call an assembly to order the suitors to leave. As for Telemachus, when the assembly breaks up, he should go to the mainland by boat to seek news of his father. If you hear he is alive, she directs, give him another year. If dead, then give your mother over to marriage, offer him proper funeral rites, and consider how to slay the suitors as a man might do and as Orestes has done.
306-313 In turn mindful Telemachus answered her, “Stranger, it has been very kind of you to talk to me in this way, as a father to his son. I will forget nothing and do all you tell me. But come now and remain in my house even though you are in a hurry to be on your way. [310] Stay so that you may refresh yourself with a bath and satisfy your dear heart. I will then give you a present so that you may go to your ship rejoicing. I will give you one of great beauty and value—a treasure such as only dear guest-friends give to guest-friends.”
314-318 Athena tells him to keep the gift until she returns. Then she flies away.
319-324 That is what bright-eyed Athena said. And with these words [320] she flew away like a bird into the air. But she instilled strength and courage into Telemachus’ spirit and caused him to think more than ever about his father. He felt the change and was astonished. And suddenly it became clear to him that the stranger was a god. Thus emboldened, he went straight to where the suitors were sitting, a godlike man.
325-387 The bard Phemius is performing for the suitors, singing about the heroes returning from Troy. Penelope comes down to listen, weeping. She asks Phemius to sing a different song since this one reminds her of Odysseus. Seeing her, Telemachus directs his mother to return upstairs to her own work at the loom, and to leave speechmaking to the men—namely, to him. She leaves, admiring her son, while many of the suitors wish they could go to bed with her. Before anyone goes to sleep, though, Telemachus, angry that the suitors are eating up his wealth and livelihood without compensation, orders them to disperse and meet in the assembly place in the morning. They marvel at his new confidence. The suitor Antinous informs Telemachus that he hopes Zeus never makes Telemachus the leading ruler of Ithaca, as his father Odysseus was.
388-398 In turn mindful Telemachus answered him, “Antinous, I trust that you will not be offended by what I’m going to say. [390] I would willingly wish to be the chief ruler—if Zeus, at any rate, granted it to me. Are you truly saying that having such power is the worst thing that can happen to a man? Let me tell you: it is no bad thing to be the leading ruler. With it your house suddenly becomes wealthy and you yourself are honored. Even so, there are many other rulers, young and old, among the Achaeans in sea-girt Ithaca. Perhaps one of these men will carry the title now that godlike Odysseus is dead. Whatever happens, I know this: I will rule over our house and all the slaves taken in war that godlike Odysseus carried off as booty.
399-442 Eurymachus, the son of Polybus, suggests the men of Ithaca will help defend Telemachus’ property against any man wishing to take any of it by force. And yes, he should be lord over his own house. He then asks Telemachus about the stranger who has vanished. Did he say anything about your father’s return? Telemachus tells Eurymachus who he was—that his name was Mentes. But inwardly he knows the stranger was Athena.
After dancing, listening to song, and taking further delight, the suitors eventually leave, and Telemachus retires to his bedchamber with the help of his beloved nurse Eurycleia, whom Telemachus’ grandfather Laertes had purchased for twenty oxen, and prized.
443-444 So then, all through the night, and covered with a lamb’s wool throw, Telemachus deliberated in his mind about the way Athena had shown him.
So ends Book 1. See you in Book 2, “The Assembly at Ithaca.”