OF THE 
 
 U N 1 V E RS ITY 
 or ILLl NOIS 
 
 I UNIVERSITY OF I 
 ILLINOIS LIBRARY 
 At URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 
 BOOKSTACKS 
 
NAUSICAA. 
 {See Vreface). 
 
 {Frontispiece.) 
 
THE 
 
 AUTHORESS OF THE 
 
 0 D Y S S ^ 
 
 WHERE AND WHEN SHE WROTE, WHO SHE WAS, THE USE SHE 
 
 MADE OP THE ILIAD, 
 
 AND 
 
 HOW THE POEM GREW UNDER HER HANDS, 
 
 BY 
 
 SAMUEL BUTLER 
 
 AUTHOR OF “EREWHON,” “LIFE AND HABIT,” “ALPS AND SANCTUARIES,” 
 “ THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF DR SAMUEL BUTLER,”’ ETC. 
 
 “ There is no single fact to justify a conviction,” said Mr. Cock; 
 whereon the Solicitor General replied that he did not rely upon 
 any single fact, but upon a chain of facts, which taken all 
 together left no possible means of escape. 
 
 Times Leader, Nov. 16, 1894. 
 (The prisoner was convicted.) 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 
 
 39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON 
 NEW YORK AND BOMBAY 
 1897 
 
 [. 4 // rights reserved'\ 
 
CAMBRIDGK : 
 
 PRINTED BY METCALFE AND CO. LIMITED, 
 
2 '^? 
 
 AL PROFESSORE 
 CAV. BIAGIO INGROIA, 
 PREZIOSO ALLEATO 
 L’AUTORE RICONOSCEKTE. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The following work consists in some measure 
 of matter already published in England and Italy 
 during the last six years. The original publications 
 were in the Aihenceum^ Jan. 30 and Feb. 20, 1892, 
 and in the Eagle for the Lent Term, 1892, and for 
 the October Term, 1892. Both these last two articles 
 were re-published by Messrs. Metcalfe & Go. of 
 Cambridge, with prefaces, in the second case of 
 considerable length. I have also drawn from sundry 
 letters and articles that appeared in 11 Lamlrusehini^ 
 a journal published at Trapani and edited by Prof. 
 Giacalone-Patti, in 1892 and succeeding years, as 
 also from two articles that appeared in the Rassegna 
 della Letteratura Siciliana^ published at Acireale in 
 the autumn of 1893 and of 1894, and from some 
 articles published in the Italian Gazette (then edited 
 by Miss Helen Zimmern) in the spring of 1895. 
 
 Each of the publications above referred to con¬ 
 tained some matter which did not appear in the 
 others, and by the help of local students in Sicily, 
 among whom I would name the late Signor E. 
 Biaggini of Trapani, Signor Sugameli of Trapani, 
 and Cavaliere Professore Ingroia of Calatafimi, I have 
 
VI 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 been able to correct some errors and become possessed 
 of new matter bearing on my subject. I have now 
 entirely re-cast and re-stated the whole argument, 
 adding much that has not appeared hitherto, and 
 dealing for the first time fully with the question of 
 the writer’s sex. 
 
 No reply appeared to either of my letters to the 
 
 Athenoeum nor to my Italian pamphlets. It is idle 
 
 to suppose that the leading Iliadic and Odyssean 
 
 scholars in England and the continent do not know 
 
 what I have said. I have taken ample care that they 
 
 should be informed concerning it. It is equally idle 
 
 to suppose that not one of them should have brought 
 
 forward a serious argument against me, if there were 
 
 any such argument to bring. Had they brought one 
 
 it must have reached me, and I should have welcomed 
 
 it with great pleasure ; for, as I have said in my 
 
 concluding Chapter, I do not care whether the Odyssey 
 
 was written by man or by woman, nor yet where the 
 
 poet or poetess lived who wrote it; all I care about 
 
 is the knowing as much as I can about the poem ; 
 
 and I believe that scholars both in England and on 
 
 the continent would have helped me to fuller under- 
 
 / 
 
 standing if they had seen their way to doing so. 
 
 A new edition, for example, of Professor Jebb’s 
 Introduction to Homer was published some six weeks 
 after the first and more important of my letters to 
 the Athenoeum had appeared. It was advertised as 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Vll 
 
 ‘‘ this day ” in the Athenaeum of March 12, 1892 ; so 
 that if Professor Jehb had wished to say anything 
 against what had appeared in the Athenaeum^ he had 
 ample time to do so by way of postscript. I know 
 very well what I should have thought it incumbent 
 upon me to do had I been in his place, and found 
 his silence more eloquent on my behalf than any 
 words would have been which he is at all likely to 
 have written, or, I may add, to write. 
 
 I repeat that nothing deserving serious answer 
 has reached me from any source during the six years, 
 or so, that my Odyssean theories have been before 
 the public. The principal notices of them that have 
 appeared so far will be found in the Spectator^ 
 April 23, 1892 ; the Cambridge Observer^ May 31, 1892 ; 
 the Classical Remev) for November, 1892, June, 1893, 
 and February, 1895, and Longman^s Magazine (see At 
 the Sign of the Ship) for June, 1892. 
 
 My frontispiece is taken by the kind permission 
 of the Messrs. Alinari of Florence, from their photo¬ 
 graph of a work in the museum at Cortona called 
 La Musa Polinnia. It is on slate and burnt, is a little 
 more than half life size, and is believed to be Greek, 
 presumably of about the Christian era, but no more 
 precise date can be assigned to^ it. I was. assured at 
 Cortona that it was found by a man who was 
 ploughing his field, and who happened ta be a baker. 
 The size being suitable he used it for some time as 
 
Till 
 
 PIIEFACE. 
 
 a door for his oven, whence it was happily rescued 
 and placed in the mnsenm where it now rests. 
 
 As regards the Greek text from which I have 
 taken my abridged translation, I have borne in mind 
 thronghont the admirable canons laid down by Mr. 
 Gladstone in his Studies in Horner^ Oxford University 
 Press, 1858, VoL I., p. 43. He holds :— 
 
 1. That we should adopt the text itself as the basis of all 
 Homeric enquiry, and not any preconceived theory nor any 
 arbitrary standard of criticism, referable to any particular 
 periods, schools, or persons. 
 
 2. That as we proceed in any work of construction drawn 
 from the text, we should avoid the temptation to solve diffi¬ 
 culties that lie in our way by denouncing particular portions 
 of it as corrupt or interpolated; should never set it aside 
 except on the closest examination of the particular passage 
 questioned; should use sparingly the liberty of even arraying 
 presumptions against it; and should always let the reader 
 understand both when and why it is questioned. 
 
 The only emendation I have ventured to make 
 in the text is to read instead of in 
 
 i. 186 and vTrovrjplTov for vTrovrjtov in iii. 81. A more 
 speculative emendation in iv. 606, 607 I forbear 
 even to suggest. I know of none others that I 
 have any wish to make. As for interpolations I 
 have called attention to three or four which I 
 believe to have been made at a later period by 
 the writer herself, but have seen no passage which 
 I have been tempted to regard as the work of 
 another hand. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 IX 
 
 I have followed Mr. Gladstone, Lord Derby, 
 Colonel Mure, and I may add the late Professor 
 Kennedy and the Key. Richard Shilleto, men who 
 taught me what little Greek I know, in retaining 
 the usual Latin renderings of Greek proper names. 
 What was good enough for the scholars whom I 
 have named is good enough for me, and I should 
 think also for the greater number of my readers. 
 The public whom I am addressing know the 
 Odyssey chiefly through Pope’s translation, and will 
 not, I believe, take kindly to Odysseus for Ulysses, 
 Aias for Ajax, and Polydeukes for Pollux. Neither 
 do I think that Hekabe will supersede Hecuba, till 
 “ What’s Hecuba to him or he to Hecuba ? ” 
 is out of date. 
 
 I infer that the authorities of the British Museum 
 are with me in this matter, for on looking out 
 Odysseus in the catalogue of the library I find 
 ‘‘See Ulysses.” 
 
 Moreover the authors of this new nomencla¬ 
 ture are not consistent. Why not call Penelope 
 Penelopeia ? She is never called anything else in 
 the Odyssey. Why not Achilleus ? Why not Belle- 
 rophontes ? Why Hades, when ’A/S?;? has no 
 aspirate ? Why Helios instead of Eelios ? Why 
 insist on Achaians and Aitolians, but never on 
 Aithiopians ? Why not Athenasans rather than 
 Athenians ? Why not Apollon ? Why not either 
 
X 
 
 PKEFACE. 
 
 Odussens, or else Odysseys ? and why not call him 
 Odiisens or Odyseys whenever the Odyssey does so ? 
 
 Admitting that the Oreek names for gods and 
 heroes may one day become as familiar as the 
 Latin ones, they have not become so yet, nor shall 
 I believe that they have done so, till I have seen 
 Odysseus supplant Ulysses on railway engines, 
 steam tugs, and boats or ships. Jove, Mercury, 
 Minerva, Juno, and Venus convey a sufficiently 
 accurate idea to people who would have no ready 
 made idea in connection with Zeus, Hermes, 
 Athene, Here, and Aphrodite. The personalities 
 of the Latin gods do not differ so much from 
 those of the Greek, as, for example, the Athene 
 of the Iliad does from the Athene of the Odyssey. 
 The personality of every god varies more or less 
 with that of every writer, and what little difference 
 may exist between Greek and Homan ideas of Jove, 
 Juno, &c., is not sufficient to warrant the disturb¬ 
 ance of a nomenclature that has long since taken 
 an established place in literature. 
 
 Furthermore, the people who are most shocked 
 by the use of Latin names for Greek gods and 
 heroes, and who most insist on the many small 
 innovations which any one who opens a volume 
 of the Classical Review may discover for himself, 
 are- the very ones who have done most to foist 
 Wolf and German criticism upon us, and who are 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 XI 
 
 most tainted witli that affectation of higher critical 
 taste and insight, which men of the world distrust, 
 and which has hronght the word “ academic ” into 
 nse as expressive of everything which sensible people 
 will avoid, I dare not, therefore, follow these men 
 till time has shown whether they are faddists or no. 
 Nevertheless, if I find the opinion of those whom I 
 respect goes against me in this matter, I shall adopt 
 the Greek names in any new edition of my book that 
 may be asked for. I need hardly say that I have 
 consulted many excellent scholars as to which course 
 I should take, and have found them generally, though 
 not always, approve of my keeping to the names with 
 which Pope and others have already familiarised the 
 public. 
 
 Since Chapter xiv. was beyond reach of modi¬ 
 fication, I have asked the authorities of the British 
 Mnsenm to accept a copy of the Odyssey with all 
 the Iliadic passages underlined and referred to in 
 M.S. I have every reason to believe that this will 
 very shortly be indexed under my name, and (I 
 regret to say) also under that of Homer. It is 
 my intention within the next few weeks to ofier 
 the Museum an Iliad with all passages borrowed 
 by the writer of the Odyssey underlined—reference 
 being given to the Odyssean passage in which 
 they occur. 
 
 Lastly, I would express my great obligations to 
 
XU 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 my friend Mr. H. Festing Jones, who in two succes¬ 
 sive years has verified all topographical details on 
 the ground itself, and to whom I have referred 
 throughout my work whenever I have been in doubt 
 or difficulty. 
 
 September 21th, 1897» 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 IMPORTANCE OP THE ENQUIRY—THE STEPS WHEREBY I WAS LED TO MY 
 CONCLUSIONS—THE MULTITUDE OF EARLY GREEK POETESSES REMOVES 
 ANY a priori DIFFICULTY—THE MUSES AND MINERVA AS HEADS OF 
 LITERATURE—MAN, RATHER THAN WOMAN, THE IMTERLOPER . . 1 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 THE STORY OF THE ODYSSEY ..14 
 
 Book i. The council of the gods—Telemachus and the suitors in 
 
 the house of Ulysses.18 
 
 Book ii. Assembly of the people of Ithaca—Telemachus starts for 
 
 Pylos.. . 21 
 
 Book iii. Telemachus at the house of Nestor.23 
 
 Book iv. Telemachus at the house of Menelaus—The suitors 
 resolve to lie in wait for him as he returns, and 
 
 murder him.24 
 
 Book Y. Ulysses in the island of Calypso—He leaves the island 
 on a raft, and after great suffering reaches the land 
 
 of the Phgeacians . . 28 
 
 Book vi. The meeting between Ulysses and Nausicaa ... 30 
 
 Book vii. The splendours of the house of King Alcinous—Queen 
 Arete wants to know how Ulysses got his shirt and 
 
 cloak, for she knows them as her own work. Ulysses 
 
 explains .. 34 
 
 Book viii. The Phseacian games and banquet in honour of Ulysses . 37 
 
 Book ix. The voyages of Ulysses—The Cicons, Lotus-eaters, and the 
 
 Cyclops Polyphemus.41 
 
 Book X. JBolus—The Lmstrygonians—Circe.46 
 
 Book xi. Ulysses in the house of Hades.49 
 
 Book xii. The Sirens—Scylla and Charybdis—The cattle of the Sun 53 
 
 Book xiii. Ulysses is taken back to Ithaca by the Phseacians . . 57 
 
 Book viv. Ulysses in the hut of Eummus.60 
 
 Book XV. Telemachus returns from Pylos, and on landing goes to the 
 
 hut of Eumeeus.63 
 
 Book xvi. Ulysses and Telemachus become known to one another . 66 
 
 Book xvii. Telemachus goes to the town, and is followed by Eum^us 
 
 and Ulysses, who is maltreated by the suitors . . 70 
 
 Book xviii. The fight between Ulysses and Irus—The suitors make 
 
 presents to Penelope—and ill-treat Ulysses . . . 75 
 
XIV 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 THE STORY OF THE ODYSSEY (continued). PAGE 
 
 Book xix. Ulysses converses with Penelope, and is recognised by 
 
 Euryclea.78 
 
 Book XX. Ulysses converses with Eumgeus, and with his herdsman 
 Philcetius—The suitors again maltreat him—Theocly- 
 menus foretells their doom and leaves the house . 83 
 
 Book xxi. The trial of the bow and of the axes. 87 
 
 Book xxii. The killing of the suitors.90 
 
 Book xxiii. Penelope comes down to see Ulysses, and being at last con¬ 
 vinced that he is her husband, retires with him to their 
 own old room—In the morning Ulysses, Telemachus, 
 Philcetius, and Eumaeus go to the house of Laertes . 96 
 
 Book xxiv. The Ghosts of the suitors in Hades—Ulysses sees his father 
 —is attacked by the friends of the suitors—Laertes 
 kills Eupeithes—Peace is made between him and the 
 people of Ithaca.99 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE PREPONDERANCE OF WOMAN IN THE ODYSSEY .105 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 JEALOUSY FOR THE HONOUR AND DIGNITY OF WOMAN—SEVERITY AGAINST 
 THOSE WHO HAVE DISGRACED THEIR SEX—DOVE OF SMALL RELIGIOUS 
 OBSERVANCES—OF PREACHING—OP WHITE LIES AND SMALL PLAY¬ 
 ACTING—OP HAVING THINGS BOTH WAYS—AND OF MONEY . . .115 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 ON THE QUESTION WHETHER OR NO PENELOPE IS BEING WHITEWASHED . 125 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 FURTHER CONSIDERATIONS REGARDING THE CHARACTER OF PENELOPE— 
 
 THE JOURNEY OP TELEMACHUS TO LACEDiEMON .134 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 FURTHER INDICATIONS THAT THE WRITER IS A WOMAN—YOUNG—HEAD¬ 
 STRONG—AND UNMARRIED .. . . . 142 
 
 / 
 
 CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 THAT ITHACA AND SCHERIA ARB BOTH OF THEM DRAWN FROM TRAPANI 
 
 AND ITS IMMEDIATE NEIGHBOURHOOD .158 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE IONIAN AND THE iEGADEAN ISLANDS—THE VOYAGES OF ULYSSES 
 SHOWN TO BE PRACTICALLY A SAIL ROUND SICILY FROM TRAPANI TO 
 TRAPANI .174 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 XV 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 FURTHER DETAILS REGARDING THE VOYAGES OF ULYSSES, TO CONFIRM 
 THE VIEW THAT THEY WERE A SAIL ROUND SICILY, BEGINNING AND 
 ENDING WITH MT, ERYX AND TRAPANI. 188 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 WHO WAS THE WRITER ? 
 
 200 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE DATE OF THE POEM, AND A COMPARISON OF THE STATE OP THE 
 NORTH WESTERN PART OF SICILY AS REVEALED TO US IN THE 
 ODYSSEY, WITH THE ACCOUNT GIVEN BY THUCYDIDES OF THE SAME 
 TERRITORY IN THE EARLIEST KNOWN TIMES . . . . . .210 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 FURTHER EVIDENCE IN SUPPORT OF AN EARLY IONIAN SETTLEMENT AT 
 
 OR CLOSE TO TRAPANI.. 225 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THAT THE ILIAD WHICH THE WRITER OP THE ODYSSEY KNEW WAS THE 
 
 SAME AS WHAT WE NOW HAVE.. 232 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE ODYSSEY IN ITS RELATION TO THE OTHER POEMS OF' THE TROJAN 
 
 CYCLE, AND ITS DEVELOPMENT IN THE HANDS OP THE AUTHORESS . 249 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 CONCLUSION ....... 
 
 262 
 
 CORRIGENDA. 
 
 Page 2, line \\,for “furnished” read “furnishes.” 
 
 Page 10, third line from bottom of page,.and also in note,/or “Mont Rosa” read 
 “Monte Rosa.” 
 
 Page 160, line 10, between “as he” and “sure,” supple “is.” 
 
 Page 164, line 4, for “ Lilyboean ” read “ Lilybasan.” 
 
 Page 184, in note twice, for “iEnotria” read “CEnotria.” 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Frontispiece, Nausicaa. 
 
 The house of Ulysses ........ 
 
 t 
 
 to 
 
 face 
 
 P- 
 
 17 
 
 The cave of Polyphemus. 
 
 
 to 
 
 face 
 
 p. 
 
 43 
 
 Signor Sugameli and the author in the cave of Polyphemus 
 
 • 
 
 to 
 
 face 
 
 P- 
 
 43 
 
 Map of Trapani and Mt. Eryx. 
 
 «r 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 P- 
 
 164 
 
 The harbour Rheithron, now salt works of S. Cusumana 
 
 • 
 
 to 
 
 face 
 
 P- 
 
 166 
 
 Mouth of the harbour Rheithron, now silted up . 
 
 • 
 
 to 
 
 face 
 
 P- 
 
 166 
 
 Map of the Ionian Islands ...... 
 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 P- 
 
 175 
 
 Map of the ^gadean Islands ..... 
 
 
 
 
 
 177 
 
 Trapani from Mt. Eryx, showing Marettimo (Ithaca) “ all 
 
 highest 
 
 up 
 
 in the 
 
 
 sea ”. 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 P- 
 
 178 
 
 Map of the voyage of Ulysses. 
 
 • 
 
 to 
 
 face 
 
 P- 
 
 181 
 
 Wall at Cefalh, rising from the sea. 
 
 • 
 
 to 
 
 face 
 
 P- 
 
 185 
 
 Megalithic remains on the mountain behind Cefalh 
 
 
 to 
 
 face 
 
 P* 
 
 185 
 
 H. Festing Jones, Esq., in flute of column at Selinunte 
 
 • 
 
 to 
 
 face 
 
 P- 
 
 193 
 
 Remains of megalithic wall on Mt. Eryx .... 
 
 • 
 
 to 
 
 face 
 
 p. 
 
 193 
 
 Wall at Hissarlik, showing the effects of weathering 
 
 • 
 
 to 
 
 face 
 
 P* 
 
 217 
 
 The Iliadic wall. 
 
 • 
 
 tc/ face 
 
 p. 
 
 217 
 
 A coin bearing the legend lakin, and also showing the brooch of Ulysses 
 
 
 p. 
 
 227 
 
THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 iMPORTi^NCE OF THE ENQUIRY—THE STEP’S WHEREBY I WAS 
 LED TO MY CONCLUSIONS—THE MULTITUDE OF EARLY GREEK 
 POETESSES REMOVES ANY A PRIORI DIFFICULTY—THE MUSES 
 AND MINERVA AS HEADS OF LITERATURE—^^MAN, RATHER 
 THAN WOMAN, THE INTERLOPER, 
 
 If the questions whether the Odyssey was written by a man 
 OT a woman, and whether or no it is of exclusively Sicilian 
 origin, were pregnant with no larger issues than the deter¬ 
 mination of the sex and abode of the writer, it might be enough 
 merely to suggest the answers and refer the reader to the work 
 itself. Obviously, however, they have an important bearing on 
 the whole Homeric controversy ; for if we find a woman’s hand 
 omnipresent throughout the Odyssey^ and if we also find so 
 large a number of local details, taken so exclusively and so 
 faithfully from a single Sicilian town as to warrant the belief 
 that the writer must have lived and written there, the pre¬ 
 sumption seems irresistible that the poem was written by a 
 single person. For there can hardly have been more than 
 one woman in the same place able to write such—and such 
 homogeneous—-poetry as we find throughout the Odyssey. 
 
 Many questions will become thus simplified. Among others 
 we can limit the date of the poem to the lifetime of a single 
 person, and if we find, as I believe we shall, that this person 
 in all proba1)ility flourished, roughly between 1050 and 1000 b.c., 
 if, moreover, we can show, as we assuredly can, that she had 
 
 B 
 
2 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 the Iliad before her much as we have it now, quoting, con- 
 scdously or unconsciously, as freely from the most suspected 
 parts as from those that are admittedly Homer’s, we shall 
 have done much towards settling the question whether the 
 Iliad also is by one hand or by many. 
 
 Hot that this question ought to want much settling. The 
 theory that the Iliad and Odyssey were written each of them 
 by various hands, and pieced together in various centuries by 
 various editors, is not one which it is easy to treat respectfully. 
 It does not rest on the well established case of any other poem 
 so constructed ; literature furnished us with no poem whose 
 genesis is known to have been such as that which we are asked 
 to foist upon the Iliad and Odyssey. The theory is founded on 
 a supposition as to the date when writing became possible, 
 which has long since been shown to be untenable; not only 
 does it rest on no external evidence, but it flies in the face of 
 what little external evidence we have. Based on a base that 
 has been cut from under it, it has been sustained by argu¬ 
 ments which have never succeeded in leading two scholars to 
 the same conclusions, and which are of that character which 
 will lead any one to any conclusion however preposterous, 
 which he may have made up his mind to consider himself as 
 having established. A writer in the Spectator of Jan. 2, 1892, 
 whose name I do not know, concluded an article by saying. 
 
 That the finest poem of the world was created out of the con¬ 
 tributions of a multitude of poets revolts all our literary instincts. 
 
 Of course it does, but the Wolfian heresy, more or less 
 modified, is still so generally accepted both on the continent 
 and in England that it will not be easy to exterminate it. 
 
 Easy or no this is a task well worth attempting, for Wolf’s 
 theory has been pregnant of harm in more ways than are 
 immediately apparent. Who would have thought of attacking 
 Shakspeare’s existence—for if Shakspeare did not write his 
 plays he is no longer Shakspeare—unless men’s minds had 
 been unsettled by Wolf’s virtual denial of Homer’s ? Who 
 would have reascribed picture after picture in half the galleries 
 of Europe, often wantonly, and sometimes in defiance of the 
 
BASELESSNESS OF WOLf’s THEORY. 3 
 
 clearest evidence, if the unsettling of questions concerning 
 authorship had not been found to be an easy road to repu¬ 
 tation as a critic ? Nor does there appear to he any end to it, 
 for each succeeding generation seems bent on trying to surpass 
 the recklessness of its predecessor. 
 
 And more than this, the following pages will read a lesson 
 of another kind, which I will leave the reader to guess at, to 
 men whom I will not name, but some of whom he may perhaps 
 know, for there are many of them. Indeed I have sometimes 
 thought that the sharj^ness of this lesson may be a more useful 
 service than either the establishment of the points which I 
 have set myself to prove, or the dispelling of the nightmares 
 of Homeric extravagance which German professors have 
 evolved out of their own inner consciousness. 
 
 Such language may be held to come ill from one who is 
 setting himself to maintain two such seeming paradoxes as 
 the feminine authorship, and Sicilian origin, of the Odyssey. 
 One such shock would be bad enough, but two, and each so 
 far-reaching, are intolerable. I feel this, and am oppressed 
 by it. When I look back on the record of Iliadic and 
 Odyssean controversy for nearly 2500 years, and reflect that 
 it is, I may say, dead against me; when I reflect also upon 
 the complexity of academic interests, not to mention the 
 commercial interests vested in well-known school books and 
 so-called education—how can I be other than dismayed at the 
 magnitude, presumption, and indeed utter hopelessness, of the 
 task I have undertaken ? 
 
 How can I expect Homeric scholars to tolerate theories so 
 subversive of all that most of them have been insisting on for 
 so many years ? It is a matter of Homeric (for my theory 
 affects Iliadic questions nearly as much as it does the Odyssey) 
 life and death for them or for myself. If I am right they 
 have invested their reputation for sagacity in a worthless 
 stock. What becomes, for example, of a great part of 
 Professor Jebb’s well-known Introduction to Homer —to quote 
 his shorter title—if the Odyssey was written all of it at 
 ^Trapani, all of it by one hand, and that hand a woman’s ? 
 Either my own work is rubbish, in which case it should not be 
 
 B2 
 
4 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 hard to prove it so without using discourteous language, or 
 not a little of theirs is not worth the paper on which it is 
 written. They will be more than human, therefore, if they do 
 not handle me somewhat roughly. 
 
 As for the Odyssey having been written by a woman, they 
 will tell me that I have not even established a primd facie 
 case for my opinion. Of course I have not. It was Bentley 
 who did this, when he said that the Iliad was-written for men, 
 and the Odyssey for women.* The history of literature 
 furnishes us with no case in which a man has written a great 
 master23iece for women rather than men. If an anonymous 
 book strikes so able a critic as having been written for women, 
 a primd facie case is established for thinking that it was 
 probably written by a woman. I deny, however, that the 
 Odyssey was written for women; it was written for any one 
 who would listen to it. What Bentley meant was that in the 
 Odyssey things were looked at from a woman’s point of view 
 rather than a man’s, and in uttering this obvious truth, I 
 repeat, he established once for all a strong primd facie case 
 for thinking that it was written by a woman. 
 
 If my oppunents can fasten a cavil on to the ninth part of 
 a line of my argument, they will take no heed of, and make no 
 reference to, the eight parts on which they dared not fasten a 
 misrepresentation however gross. They will declare it fatal to 
 my theory that there were no Greek-speaking people at 
 Trapani when the Odyssey was written. Having fished up 
 this assertion from the depths of their ignorance of what 
 Thucydides, let alone Virgil, has told us,—or if they set these 
 writers on one side, out of their still profounder ignorance of 
 what there was or was not at Trapani in the eleventh century 
 before Christ—they v^ill refuse to look at the internal evidence 
 furnished by the Odyssey itself. They will ignore the fact 
 that Thucydides tells us that Phocians of those from Troy,” 
 which as I will show (see Chapter xu.) can only mean 
 PhocEe.ans, settled at Mount Eryx, and ask me how I can place 
 Phocreans on Mount Eryx when Thucydides says it was 
 
 * See Introduction to the Iliad and the Odyssey^ by R. C. Jebb, 1888, p, 106, 
 
BENTLEY AND THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 5 
 
 Phocians who settled there ? They will ignore the fact that 
 even though Thucydides had said “ Phocians ” without qualify¬ 
 ing his words by adding “of those from Troy,” or “of the 
 Trojan branch,” he still places Greek-speaking people within 
 five miles of Trapani. 
 
 As for the points of correspondence between both Ithaca 
 and Scheria, and Trapani, they will remind me that Captain 
 Pluelen found resemblances between Monmouth and Macedon, 
 as also Bernardino Caimi did between Jerusalem and Varallo- 
 Sesia; they will say that if mere topographical resemblances 
 are to be eonsidered, the Channel Islands are far more like 
 the Ionian group as described in the Odyssey than those off 
 Trapani are, while Balaclava presents us with the whole 
 Scherian combination so far more plausibly than Trapani as 
 to leave no doubt which site should be preferred. I have not 
 looked at the map of Balaclava to see whether this is so or 
 no, nor yet at other equally promising sites which have been 
 'offered me, but am limiting myself to giving examples of 
 criticisms which have been repeatedly passed upon my theory 
 during the last six years, and which I do not doubt will be 
 repeatedly passed upon it in the future. 
 
 On the other hand I may comfort myself by reflecting that 
 however much I may deserve stoning there is no one who can 
 stone me with a clear conscience. Those who hold, as most 
 people now do, that the Iliad and Odyssey belong to ages 
 separated from one another by some generations, must be 
 haunted by the reflection that though the diversity of author¬ 
 ship was prominently insisted on by many people more than 
 two thousand years ago, not a single Homeric student from 
 those days to the end of the last century could be brought to 
 acknowledge what we now deem self-evident. Professor Jebb, 
 writing of Bentley,* says 
 
 He had not felt what is now so generally admitted, that the 
 Odyssey bears the marks of a later time than the Iliad. 
 
 How came so great a man as Bentley not to see what is 
 so obvious ? Truly, as has been said by Mr. Gladstone, if 
 
 * Bmtleij, Macmillan, 18S2, p. 148. 
 
6 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY, 
 
 Homer is old, the systematic and comprehensive study of him 
 is still young.* 
 
 I shall not argue the question whether the Iliad and 
 Odyssey are by the same person, inasmuch as if I convince 
 the reader that the Odyssey was written by a woman and in 
 Sicily, it will go without saying that it was not written by 
 Homer; for there can be no doubt about the sex of the writer 
 of the Iliad. The same canons which will compel us to 
 ascribe the Odyssey to a woman forbid any other conclusion 
 than that the Iliad was written by a man. I shall therefore 
 proceed at once to the question whether the Odyssey was 
 written by a man or by a woman. 
 
 It is an old saying that no man can do better for another 
 than he can for himself, I may perhaps therefore best succeed 
 in convincing the reader if 1 retrace the steps by which I 
 arrived at the conclusions I ask him to adopt. 
 
 I was led to take up the Odyssey by having written the 
 libretto and much of the music for a secular oratorio, Ulysses, 
 on which my friend Mr. H. Festing Jones and I had been for 
 some time engaged. Having reached this point it occurred to 
 me that I had better after all see what the Odyssey said, and 
 finding no readable prose translation, was driven to the 
 original, to which I had not given so much as a thought for 
 some five and thirty years. 
 
 The Greek being easy, I had little difficulty in under¬ 
 standing what I read, and I had the great advantage of 
 coming to the poem with fresh eyes. Also, I read it all 
 through from end to end, as I have since many times done. 
 
 Fascinated, however, as I at once was by its amazing 
 interest and beauty, I had an ever-present sense of a some¬ 
 thing wrong, of a something that was eluding me, and of a 
 riddle which I could not read. The more I reflected upon the 
 words, so luminous and so transparent, the more I felt a 
 darkness behind them, that I must pierce before I could see 
 the heart of the writer—and this was what I wanted ; for art 
 is only interesting in so far as it reveals an artist. 
 
 * Ilomer, Macmillan, 1878, p. 2, 
 
HOW I WAS LED TO MY OPINION. 
 
 7 
 
 lu the hope of getting to understand the poem better 1 set 
 about translating it into plain prose, with the same benevolent 
 leaning, say, towards Tottenham Court Road, that Messrs. 
 Batcher and Lang have shewn towards Wardour Street. I 
 admit, however, that Wardour Street English has something 
 to say for itself. The “ Ancient Mariner,” for example, would 
 have lost a good deal if it had been called “ The Old Sailor,” 
 but on the whole I take it that a tale so absolutely without 
 any taint of atfectation as the Odyssey will speed best being 
 unaffectedly told. 
 
 When I came to the Phaeacian episode I felt sure that 
 here at any rate the writer was drawing from life, and that 
 Nausicaa, Queen Arete, and Aleinous were real people more or 
 less travestied, and on turning to Colonel Mure’s work* I saw 
 that he was of the same opinion, Nevertheless I found myself 
 continually aghast at the manner in which men were made to 
 speak and act—especially, for example, during the games in 
 honour of Ulysses described in Book vih. Colonel Mure says 
 (p. 407) that “the women engross the chief part of the small 
 stock of common sense allotted to the community.” So they 
 do, but it never occurred to me to ask myself whether men 
 commonly write brilliant books in which the women are made 
 more sensible than the men. Still dominated by the idea that 
 the writer was a man, I conjectured that he might be some 
 bard, perhaps blind, who lived among the servants much as 
 the chaplain in a great house a couple of hundred years ago 
 among ourselves. Such a bard, even though not blind, would 
 only see great people from a distance, and would not mix with 
 them intimately enough to know how they would speak and 
 act among themselves. It never even crossed my mind that it 
 might have been the commentators who were blind, and that 
 they might have thus come to think that the poet must have 
 been blind too. 
 
 The view that the writer might have lived more in the 
 steward’s room than with the great people of the house served 
 (I say it with shame) to quiet me for a time, but by and by it 
 
 * Language and Literature of Ancient Greece, Longman, 1850, Vol. I., p. 404, 
 
8 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSET. 
 
 struck me that though the men often both said and did things 
 that no man would say or do, the women were always ladies 
 when the writer chose to make them so. How could it be that 
 a servant’s hall bard should so often go hopelessly wrong with 
 his men, and yet be so exquisitively right with every single 
 one of his women ? But still I did not catch it. It was not 
 till I got to Circe that it flashed upon me that I was reading 
 the work, not of an old man, but of a young woman—and of 
 one who knew not much more about what men can and cannot 
 do than I had found her know about the milking of ewes in 
 the cave of Polyphemus. 
 
 The more I think of it the more I wonder at my own 
 stupidity, for I remember that when I was a boy at school I 
 used to say the Odyssey was the Iliad's wife, and that it 
 was written by a clergyman. But however this may be, as 
 soon as the idea that the writer was a woman —and a young 
 one—presented itself to me, I felt that here was the reading of 
 the riddle that had so long baffled me. I tried to divest 
 myself of it, but it would not go; as long as I kept to it, 
 everything cohered and was in its right place, and when I set 
 it aside all was wrong again; I did not seek my conclusion; 
 I did not even know it by sight so as to look for it; it accosted 
 me, introduced itself as my conclusion, and vowed that it 
 would never leave me; whereon, being struck with its appear¬ 
 ance, I let it stay with me on probation for a week or two 
 during which I was charmed with the propriety of all it said 
 or did, and then bade it take rank with the convictions to 
 which I was most firmly wedded; but I need hardly say that 
 it was a long time before I came to see that the poem was all 
 of it written at Trapani, and that the writer had introduced 
 herself into her work under the name of Nausicaa. 
 
 I will deal with these points later, but would point out that 
 the moment we refuse to attribute the Odyssey to the writer 
 of the Iliad (whom we should alone call Homer) it becomes 
 an anonymous work; and the first thing that a critic will set 
 himself to do when he considers an anonymous work is to 
 determine the sex of the writer. This, even when women are 
 posing as men, is seldom difficult—indeed it is done almost 
 
9 
 
 A woman’s natural mistakes. 
 
 invariably with success as often as an anonymous work is 
 published—and when any one writes with the frankness and 
 spontaneity which are such an irresistible charm in the Odyssey^ 
 it is not only not difficult but exceed]ngdy easy ; difficulty will 
 only arise, if the critic is, as we have all been in this case, 
 dominated by a deeply-rooted jjreeonceived opinion, and if also 
 there is some strong d priori improbability in the supposition 
 that the writer was a woman. 
 
 It may be urged that it is extremely improbable that any 
 woman in any age should write such a masterpiece as the 
 Odyssey. But so it also is that any man should do so. In 
 all the many hundreds of years since the Odyssey was written, 
 no man has been able to write another that will compare with 
 it. It was extremely improbable that the son of a Stratford 
 wool-stapler should write Hamlet^ or that a Bedfordshire 
 tinker should produce such a masterpiece as Pilgrim’s 
 Progress. Phenomenal works imply a phenomenal workman, 
 but there are phenomenal women as well as phenomenal men, 
 and though there is much in the Iliad which no woman, how¬ 
 ever phenomenal, can be supposed at all likely to have written, 
 there is not a line in the Odyssey which a woman might not 
 perfectly well write, and there is much beauty which a man 
 would be almost certain to neglect. Moreover there are many^ 
 mistakes in the Odyssey which a young woman might easily 
 make, but which a man could hardly fall into—for example, 
 making the wind whistle over waves at the end of Book ii., 
 thinking that a lamb could live on two pulls a day at a 
 ewe that was already milked (ix. 244, 245, and 308, 309), 
 believing a ship to have a rudder at both ends (ix. 483, 540), 
 thinking that dry and well-seasoned timber can be cut from a 
 growing tree (v. 240), making a hawk while still on the win^ 
 tear its prey—a thing that no hawk can do (xv. 527). 
 
 I see that Messrs. Butcher and Lang omit ix. 483 in which 
 the rudder is placed in the bows of a ship, but it is found in 
 the text, and is the last kind of statement a copyist would be 
 inclined to intercalate. Yet I could have found it in my heart 
 to conceive the text in fault, had I not also found the writer 
 explaining in Book v. 255 that Ulysses gave his raft a rudder 
 
10 
 
 THE AUTHOEESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 “ in order that he might be able to steer it.^’ People whose 
 ideas about rudders have become well defined will let the fact 
 that a ship is steered by means of its rudder go without saying. 
 Furthermore, not only does she explain that Ulysses would 
 want a rudder to steer with, but later on (line 270) she tells us 
 that he actually did use the rudder when he had made it, and, 
 moreover, that he used it or skilfully. 
 
 Young women know that a horse goes before a cart, and 
 being told that the rudder guides the ship, are apt—and I 
 have more than once found them do so—to believe that it goes 
 in front of the ship. Probably the writer of the Odyssey 
 forgot for the moment at which end the rudder should be. 
 She thought it all over yesterday, and was not going to think 
 it all over again to-day, so she put the rudder at both ends, 
 intending to remove it from the one that should prove to be 
 the wrong one ; later on she forgot, or did not think it worth 
 while to trouble about so small a detail. 
 
 So with Calypso’s axe (v. 234-36). No one who was used 
 to handling an axe would describe it so fully and tell us that 
 it “ suited Ulysses’ hands,” and was furnished with a handle. 
 I have heard say that a celebrated female authoress was dis¬ 
 covered to be a woman by her having spoken of a two-foot 
 ruler instead of a two-foot rule^ but over minuteness of 
 description is deeper and stronger evidence of unfamiliarity 
 than mistaken nomenclature is. 
 
 Sueh mistakes and self-betrayals as those above pointed 
 out enhance rather than imj)air the charm of the Odyssey. 
 Granted that the Odyssey is inferior to the Iliad in strength, 
 robustness, and wealth of poetic imagery, I cannot think that 
 it is inferior in its power of fascinating the reader. Indeed, if 
 I had to sacrifice one or the other, I can hardly doubt that 1 
 should let the Iliad go rather than the Odyssey —-just as if I 
 had to sacrifice either Mont Blanc or Mont Rosa, I should 
 sacrifice Mont Blanc, though I know it to be in many 
 respects the grander mountain of the two.* 
 
 ♦ Shakespeare, of course, is the whole chain of the Alps, comprising both Mont 
 Blanc and Mont Rosa. 
 
man’s work and woman’s. 
 
 11 
 
 It slionld go, however, without saying that much which is 
 charming in a woman’s work would be ridiculous in a man’s, 
 and this is eminently exemplified in the Odyssey. If a woman 
 wrote it, it is as lovely as the frontispiece of this volume, and 
 becomes, if less vigorous, yet assuredly more wonderful than 
 the Iliad; if, on the other hand, it is by a man, the half 
 Bayeux tapestry, half Botticelli’s Venus rising from the sea, 
 or Primavera, feeling with which it impresses us gives place to 
 astonishment how any man could have written it. What is a 
 right manner for a woman is a wrong one for a man, and vice 
 versa. Jane Austen’s young men, for example, are seldom 
 very interesting, but it is only those who are blind to the 
 exquisite truth and delicacy of Jane Austen’s work who will 
 feel any wish to complain of her for not understanding young 
 men as well as she did young women. 
 
 The writer of a Times leading article (Feb, 4th, 1897) says : 
 
 The sex difference is the profoundest and most far-reaching that 
 
 exists among human beings.Women may or may not be 
 
 the equals of men in intelligence.but women in the mass 
 will act after the manner of women, which is not and never can 
 be the manner of men. 
 
 And as they will act, so will they write. This, however, does 
 not make their work any the less charming when it is good of 
 its kind ; on the contrary, it makes it more so. 
 
 Dismissing, therefore, the difficulty of supposing that any 
 woman could write so wonderful a poem as the Odyssey^ is 
 there any a />r 2 hn‘"'obstacle to our thinking that such a woman 
 may have existed, say, b.c, 1000 ? I know of none. Greek 
 literature does not begin to dawn upon us till about 600 b.c. 
 Earlier than this date we have hardly anything except the 
 Iliad^ Odyssey^ and that charming writer Hesiod. When, 
 however, we come to the earliest historic literature we find 
 that famous poetesses abounded. 
 
 Those who turn to the article “ Sappho ” in Smith’s Die-’ 
 tionary of Classical Biography will find Gorgo and Andromeda 
 mentioned as her rivals. Among her fellows were Anactoria 
 of Miletus, Gongyle of Colophon, Eunica of Salamis, Gyrinna, 
 Atthis, and Mnasidica. “ Those,” says the writer, “ who 
 
12 
 
 THE AUTHORESS GF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 attained tlie liigliest celebrity for their works were Damo- 
 ' 2:)hylia the Pam^jhylian, and Erinna of Telos.” This last- 
 named poetess wrote a long poem upon the distatf, which was 
 considered equal to Homer himself—the Odyssey being pro¬ 
 bably intended. 
 
 Again, there was Baucis, who wrote Erinna’s Epitaph. 
 Turning to Muller’s work upon the Dorians, I find reference 
 made to the amatory poetesses of Lesbos. He tells us also of 
 Corinna, who is said to have competed successfully with 
 Pindar, and Myrto, who certainly com 2 )eted with him, but 
 with what success we know not. Again, there was Diotima 
 the Arcadian ; and looking through Bergk’s Poetoe Lyrici 
 Orceci I find other names of women, fragments of whose 
 works have reached us through quotation by extant writers. 
 Among the Hebrews there were Miriam, Deborah, and Hannah, 
 all of them believed to be centuries older than the Odyssey. 
 
 If, then, poetesses were as abundant as we know them to 
 have been in the earliest known ages of Greek literature over 
 a wide area in Greece, Asia Minor, and the islands of the 
 iEgeean, there is no ground for refusing to admit the j)ossibility 
 that a Greek 2 )oetess lived in Sicily b.c. 1000, especially when 
 we know from Thucydides that the particular part of Sicily 
 where I suj)pose her to have lived was colonised from the 
 North West corner of Asia Minor centuries before the close of 
 the Homeric age. The civilisation depicted in the Odyssey is 
 as advanced as any that is likely to have existed in Mitylene 
 or Melos 600—500 b.o., while in both the Iliad and the 
 Odyssey the status of women is represented as being much 
 what it is at the present, and as incomjDarably higher than it 
 was in the Athenian civilisation with which we are best 
 acquainted. To imagine a great Greek poetess' at Athens 
 in the age of Pericles would be to violate probability, but I 
 might almost say in an age when women were as free as they 
 are represented to us in the Odyssey it is a violation of pro¬ 
 bability to suppose that there were no poetesses. 
 
 We have no reason to think that men found the use of their 
 tongue sooner than women did; why then should we suppose 
 that women lagged behind men when the use of the pen had 
 
POETESSES IN EAELY GREEK LITERATURE. 
 
 13 
 
 become familiar ? If a woman could work pictures with her 
 needle as Helen did,* and as tlie wife of William the Conqueror 
 did in a very similiar civilisation, she could write stories with 
 her pen if she had a mind to do so. 
 
 The fact that the recognised heads of literature in the 
 Homeric ag*e were the nine Muses—for it is always these or 
 “ The Muse ” that is involved, and never Apollo or Minerva— 
 throws back the suggestion of female authorship to a very 
 remote period, when, to bo an author at all, was to be a poet, 
 for prose writing is a comparatively late development. Both 
 Iliad and Odyssey begin with an invocation addressed to a 
 woman, who, as the head of literature, must be supposed to 
 have been an authoress, though none of her works have come 
 down to us. In an age, moreover, v/hen men were chiefly 
 occupied either with fighting or hunting, the arts of peace, and 
 among them all kinds of literary accomplishment, would be 
 more naturally left to women. If the truth were known, we 
 might very likely find that it was man rather than woman 
 who has been the interloper in the domain of literature. 
 Nausicaa was more probably a survival than an interloper, but 
 most probably of all she was in the height of the fashion. 
 
 * lliad^ III. 126, 
 
( 14 ) 
 
 CHAPTER II, 
 
 THE STOKY OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 It will lielp the reader to follow the arguments by which 1 
 shall sustain the female authorship of the Odyssey^ the fact of 
 its being written at Trapani on the west coast of Sicily, and 
 its development in the hands of the writer, if I lay before him 
 an abridgement of the complete translation that I have made, 
 but not yet published. If space permitted I should print my 
 translation in full, but this is obviously impossible, for what I 
 give here is only about a fourth of the whole poem. I have, 
 therefore, selected those parts that throw most light upon the 
 subjects above referred to, with just so much connecting matter 
 as may serve to make the whole readable and intelligible. I 
 am aware that the beauty of the poem is thus fatally marred, 
 for it is often the loveliest passages that serve my purpose 
 least. The abridgement, therefore, that I here give is not to 
 be regarded otherwise than as the key-sketch which we so 
 often see under an engraving of a picture that contains many 
 portraits. It is intended not as a work of art, but as an 
 elucidatory diagram. 
 
 As regards its closeness to the text, the references to the 
 poem which will be found at the beginning of each paragraph 
 will show where the abridgement has been greatest, and will 
 also enable the reader to verify the fidelity of the rendering 
 either with the Greek or with Messrs. Butcher 'and Lang’s 
 translatioD. I affirm with confidence that if the reader is 
 good enough to thus verify any passages that may strike him as 
 impossibly modern, he will find that I have adhered as severely 
 to the intention of the original as it was possible for me to do 
 while telling the story in my own words and abridging it. 
 
 One of my critics, a very friendly one, has told me that I 
 have “ distorted the simplicity of the Odyssey in order to put 
 
MY'ABRIDGEMEKT—HOUSE OF ULYSSES. 
 
 15 
 
 it iu a ludicrous ligdit.” I do not think this. I have revealed, 
 but I have not distorted. I should be shocked to believe for 
 one moment that 1 had done so. True, I have nothing ex¬ 
 tenuated, but neither have I set down aught in malice. Where 
 the writer is trying to make us believe impossibilities, I have 
 shown that she is doing so, and have also shown why she 
 wanted us to believe them; but until a single passage is 
 pointed out to me in which I have altered the intention of the 
 original, I shall continue to hold that the conception of the 
 poem which I lay before the reader in the following pages is a 
 juster one than any that, so far as I know, has been made 
 public hitherto; and, moreover, that it makes both the work 
 and the writer a hundred times more interesting than any 
 other conception can do. 
 
 I preface my abridgement with a plan of Ulysses^ house, so 
 far as I have been able to make it out from the poem. The 
 reader will find that he understands the story much better 
 if he will study the plan of the house here given with some 
 attention. 
 
 I have read what Prof. Jebb has written on this subject,^ 
 as also Mr. Andrew Lang’s Note 18 at the end of Messrs. 
 Butcher and Lang’s translation of the Odyssey. I have also 
 read Mr. Arthur Platt’s article on the slaying of the suitors,! 
 and find myself in far closer agreement with Mr. Lang than 
 with either of the other writers whom I have named. The 
 only points on which I differ from Mr. Lang are in respect of 
 the inner court, which he sees as, a roofed hall, but which I 
 hold to have been open to the sky, except the covered cloister 
 or [xeyapa oKLoevia, an arrangement which is still very 
 common in Sicilian houses, especially at Trapani and Palermo. 
 I also difier from him in so far as I see no reason to think 
 that the “ stone pavement ” was raised, and as believing the 
 opaodvpa to have been at the top of Telemachus’s tower, and 
 called “ in the wall ” because the tower abutted on the wall. 
 
 * Journal of Hellenic Studies, Vol. vii. 170-88, and Introduction to Homer, 3rd 
 edit, 1888, pp, 57-62, and Appendix, Note 1. 
 f Journal of Philology, Vol. xxiv. p. 39, &c. 
 
16 
 
 THE AUTHOHESS of the ODYSSEt. 
 
 These are details ; substantially my view of the action and 
 . scene during the killing of the suitors agrees with Mr. Lang’s. 
 I will not give the reasons vfhich compel me to differ from 
 Prof. Jebb a.nd Mr. Platt, but will leave my plan of the house 
 and the abridged- translation to the judgement of the reader. 
 
 A was the body of the house, containing the women’s 
 apartments and other rooms. It had an upper story, in which 
 was Penelope’s room overlooking the court where the suitors 
 passed the greater part of their time. 
 
 It also contained the store-room, which seems to have been 
 placed at the far end of the house; perhaps in a basement. 
 The store-TOom could be reached by a passage from a doorway 
 A', and also by back-passages from a side-entrance A'\ which 
 I suppose to have been the back door of the house. The 
 women’s apartments opened on to the passage leading from A' 
 to the store-room. 
 
 J3 and were the Megaron or Megara, that is to say inner 
 court, of which i?'was a covered cloister with a roof supported 
 by bearing-posts with cross-beams and rafters. The open part 
 of the court had no flooring but the natural soil. Animals 
 seem to have been flayed and dressed here, for Medon, who was 
 certainly in the inner cnurt while the suitors were being killed, 
 concealed himself under a freshly-flayed ox (or heifer’s) hide 
 (xxii. 363). 
 
 i)' was called the fiiyapa aKioevra or “ shaded” part of the 
 court, to distingmsh it from that which was open ta the sun. 
 The end nearest the house was paved with stone, while that 
 nearest the outer court (and probably the other two sides) were 
 floored with ash. The part of the cloister that was paved with 
 stone does not appear to have been raised above the level of 
 the rest; at one end of the stone pavement there was a door a, 
 opening on to a narrow passage; this door, though mentioned 
 immediately after the opaoOvpa or trap door (xxii. 126), which 
 we shall come to presently, has no connection with it. About 
 the middle of the pavement, during the trial of the axes, there 
 was a seat b, from which Ulysses shot through the axes, and 
 from which he sprang when he began to shoot the suitors ; 
 
f »r f- 
 
 
 ( • 
 
 
 >\ . 
 
 I 
 
 
 
 t 
 
 I 
 
 u 
 
 (. 
 
 
 v 
 
 
 / 
 
 I 
 
 
 / 
 
 ••s 
 
 
 % 
 
 f > . ^ 
 
Narrow Passage or Xavpa 
 
 Store Room 
 
 A 
 
 Side Entrance from the narrow passage 
 or Xavpa, by means of which the pwyes 
 or bach passages, and also the Store-room, 
 could be reached. 
 
 THE HOUSE OF ULYSSES. 
 
 [To face p. 17.) 
 
 Street of the Town 
 
HOUSE OF ULYSSES. 
 
 17 
 
 against one of the bearing-posts that supported the roof of the 
 cloister, there was a spear-stand. 
 
 All the four sides of the cloisters were filled with small 
 tables at which the suitors dined.. A man could hold one of 
 these tables before him as a shield (xxii. 74, 75), 
 
 In the cloisters there were also 
 
 an open hearth or fire-place in the wall at right angles* 
 to the one which abutted on the house. So, at least, I read 
 Toiyov Tov irepov (xxiii.- 90).^ 
 
 e, the table at which the wine was mixed in the mixing- 
 bowl—as well, of course, as the other tables above mentioned. 
 
 jf, a door leading into pf, the tower in which Telemachus 
 used to sleep [translating 'irap’ opaoOvpjjv (xxii. 333) not 
 
 “near the opaoOvpa,^’ but “ near towards the 6pao6vpa^^~]. 
 
 At the top of this tower there was a trap-door gr' [6pao6vpd), 
 through which it was possible tO' get out on to the roof of the 
 tower and raise an alarm, but which afforded neither ingress 
 nor egress. 
 
 C was the outer court or approached? by the main 
 entrance, or Ti'pcorai Oupat, a covered gateway with a room 
 over it. This covered gateway was the aWovai] ipiBoufro^i, or 
 reverberating portico which we meet with in other Odyssean 
 houses, and are so familiar with in Italian and Sicilian houses 
 at the present day.- It was surrounded by C", covered sheds 
 or barns in which carts, farm implements, and probably some 
 farm produce would be stored. It contained 
 
 k, the prodomus, or vestibule in front of the inner* court, 
 into which the visitor would pass through 
 
 % the TTpoOvpov or inner gateway (the word, irpoOvpov, 
 however, is used also for the outer gateway), and 
 
 the tholus or vaulted room^ about the exact position of 
 which all we know is that it is described in xxii. 459, 460, as 
 close up against the wall of the outer court. I suspect, but 
 cannot prove it, that this was the room in which Ulysses built 
 his bed (xxiii. 181-204). 
 
 D was the tvktov SavreSov or level ground in front of 
 Ulysses’ house, on which the suitors amused themselves 
 playing at quoits and aiming a spear at a mark (iv. 625, 627). 
 
 0 
 
18 
 
 THE AUTHOKESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 The only part of the foregoing plan and explanatory notes 
 'that forces the text is in respect of the main gateway, which 
 I place too far from the month of the Xavpa for one man to he 
 able to keep out all who would bring hel23 to the suitors ; but 
 considering how much other impossibility we have to accept, I 
 think this may be allowed to go with the rest. A young 
 woman, such as I suppose the writer of the OdysseAj to have 
 been, would not stick at such a trifle as shifting the gates a 
 little nearer the Xavpa if it suited her purpose. 
 
 In passing, I may say that Agamemnon appears to have 
 been killed (Od. iv. 53.0, 531) in much such a cloistered court 
 as above supposed for the house of Ulysses. A banquet seems 
 to have been prepared in the cloister on one side the court, 
 while men were ambuscaded in the one on the opposite side. 
 
 Lastly, for what it may be worth. I would remind the 
 reader that there is not a hint of windows in the part of 
 Ulysses’ house frequented by the suitors. 
 
 The Story of the Odyssey. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 The council of the gods—-Telemackus and the suitors in the 
 
 house of Ulysses. 
 
 Tell me, oh Muse, of that ingenious hero who met with 
 many adventures while trying to bring his men home after the 
 Sack of Troy. He failed in this, for the men perished through 
 their own sheer folly in eating the cattle of the Sun, and he him¬ 
 self, though he was longing to get back to bis wife, was now 
 languishing in a lonely island, the abode of the nymph 
 Calypso. Calypso wanted him to marry her, and kept him 
 with her for many years, till at last all the gods took pity 
 upon him except Ueptune, whose son Polyphemus he had 
 blinded. 
 
 21 Now it so fell out that Neptune had gone to pay a visit to 
 the Ethiopians, who lie in two halves, one half looking on to 
 the Atlantic and the other on to the Indian Ocean. The other 
 gods, therefore, held a council, and Jove made them a speech 
 S5. about the folly of iEgisthus in wooing Clytemnestra and 
 
STORY OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 10 
 
 murdering Agamemnon; finally, yielding to Minerva, lie 
 consented that Ulysses should return to Ithaca. 
 
 “ In that case,” said Minerva, “ we should send Mercury to 80 
 Calypso to tell her what we have settled. I will also go to 
 Ithaca and embolden Ulysses’ son Telemachus to dismiss the 
 suitors of his mother Penelope, who are ruining him by their 
 extravagance. Furthermore, I will send him to Sparta and 
 Pylos to seek news of his father, for this will get him a good 
 name.” 
 
 The goddess then winged her way to the gates of Ulysses’ 96 
 house, disguised as an old family friend, and found the suitors 
 playing draughts in front of the house and lording it in great 
 style. Telemachus, seeing her standing at the gate, went up 
 to her, led her within, placed her spear in the spear-stand 
 against a strong bearing-post, brought her a seat, and set 
 -refreshments before her. 
 
 Meanwhile the suitors came trooping into the sheltered 144 
 cloisters that ran round the inner court; here, according to 
 their wont, they feasted; and when they had done eating they 
 compelled Phemius, a famous bard, to sing to them. On this 
 Telemachus began talking quietly to Minerva; he told her 
 how his father’s return seemed now quite hopeless, and con¬ 
 cluded by asking her name and country. 
 
 Minerva said sln^ was Mentes, chief of the Taphians, and 178 
 was on her way to Temesa* with a cargo of iron, which she 
 should exchange for copper. She told Telemachus that her 
 ship was lying outside the town, under Mt. Ueritum,! in the 186 
 harbour that was called Pheithron.t “ Go,” she added, “ and 
 ask old Laertes, who I hear is now living but poorly in the 189 
 country and never comes into the town ; he will tell you that 
 I am an old friend of your father’s.” 
 
 She then said, “ But who are all these people whom I see 224 
 
 * Temesa was on the West side of the toe of Italy and was once famous for its 
 copper mines, which, however, were worked out in Strabo’s time. See Smith's 
 Dictionary of Ancient Geography. 
 
 f Reading NupiTw instead of Njjtw, cf. Book xiii. 96, &c., and 351, where the 
 same harbour is obviously intended. 
 
 X i.e. “flowing,” or with a current in it. 
 
 C2 
 
20 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 beliaving so atrociously about your bouse ? What is it all 
 about ? Their conduct is enough to disgust any right-minded 
 person.” 
 
 230 “ They are my mother’s suitors,” answered Telemachus, 
 
 and come from the neighbouring islands of Dulichium, Same, 
 and Zacynthus, as well as from Ithaca itself. My mother does 
 not say she will not marry again and cannot bring her court¬ 
 ship to an end. So- they are ruining me.” 
 
 252 Minerva was very indignant, and advised him to fit out a 
 ship and go to Pylos and Sparta, seeking news of his father. 
 “ If,” she said, “ you hear of his being alive, you can put up with 
 all this extravagance for yet another twelve months. If on the 
 other hand you hear of his death, return at once, send your 
 
 276 mother to her father’s, and by fair means or foul kill the 
 suitors.” 
 
 306 Telemachus thanked her for her advice, promised to take 
 it, and pressed her to prolong her visit. She explained that 
 she could not possibly do so^ and then flew off into the air, like 
 an eagle., 
 
 325 Phemius was still singing: he had chosen for his subject 
 the disastrous return of the Achseans from Troy. Penelope 
 could hear him from her room upstairs, and came down into 
 the presence of the suitors holding a veil before her face, and 
 waited upon by two of her handmaids, one of whom stood 
 on either side of her.. She stood by one of the bearing- 
 posts that supported the roof of tlie cloisters, and bade 
 Phemius change his theme, which she found too painful as 
 reminding her of her lost husband. 
 
 345 Telemachus reasoned with her, and ended by desiring her 
 to go upstairs again. “ Go back,” he said, “ within the house 
 and see to your daily duties, your loom, your distaff, and the 
 ordering of your servants ; for speech is man’s matter, and 
 mine above all others, for it is I who am master here.” 
 
 360 On this Penelope went back, with her women, wondering 
 into -the house, and as soon as she was gone Telemachus 
 challenged the suitors to meet him next day in full assembly, 
 that he might formally and publicly warn them to leave his 
 house. 
 
STORY OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 21 
 
 Antinons and Eurymaclius, tlieir two leaders, both rejoined ; 333 
 but j)reseutly night fell, and the whole body of suitors left the 
 house for their own several abodes. When they were gone, 
 his old nurse Enryclea conducted Telemachns by torch light 
 to his bedroom, in a lofty tower, which overlooked the outer 
 courtyard and could be seen from far and near. 
 
 Enryclea had been bought by Laertes when she was quite 430 
 young; he had given the worth of twenty oxen for her, and 
 she was made as much of in the house as his own wife was, 
 but he did not take her to his bed, for he respected his wife’s 
 displeasure. The good old woman showed Telemachns to his 
 room, and waited while he undressed. She took liis shirt from 
 him, folded it carefully itp, and hung it on a peg by his bed 
 side. This done, she left him to dream all night of his 
 intended voyage. 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 Assembly of the people of Ithaca^Telemachus starts for 
 
 Pylos. 
 
 Next morning, as soon as he Was up and dressed. Tele- 
 machus sent the criers round the town to call the people in 
 assembly. When they came together he told them of his 
 misfortune in the death of his father, and of the still greater 
 one that the suitors were making havoc of his estate. “If 46 
 anybody,” he concluded, “ is to eat me out of house and home 
 I had rather you did it yourselves ; for you are men of sub¬ 
 stance, so that if I sued you household by household I should 
 recover from you; whereas there is nothing to be got by suing 
 a number of young men who have no means of their own.” 85 
 
 To this Antinons rejoined that it was Penelope’s own fault. 
 She had been encouraging the suitors all the time by sending 
 flattering messages to every single one of them. He explained 
 how for nearly four years she had tricked them about the web, 
 which she said was to be a pall for Laertes. “The answer, 
 therefore,” said he, “ that we make you is this: ‘ Send your 
 mother away, and let her marry the man of her own and of 
 her father’s choice; ’ for we shall not go till she has married 
 some one or other of us.” 
 
22 
 
 THE AUTHOBESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 129 Telemachiis answered that he could not force his mother to 
 leave against her will. If he did so he should have to refund 
 to his grandfather Icarius the dowry that Ulysses had received 
 on marrying Penelope, and this would hear hardly on him. 
 Besides it would not be a creditable thing to do. 
 
 146 On this Jove sent two eagles from the top of a mountain,* 
 who flew and flew in their own lordly flight till they reached 
 the assembly, over which they screamed and fought, glaring 
 death into the faces of those who were below. The people 
 wondered what it might all mean, till the old Soothsayer 
 Halitlierses told them that it foreshadowed the immediate 
 return of Ulysses to take his revenge upon the suitors. 
 
 3 77 Eurymachus made him an angry answer. “As long,” he 
 concluded, “ as Penelope delays her choice, we can marry no 
 one else, and shall continue to waste Telemachus’s estate.” 
 
 208 Telernachus replied that there was nothing more to be said, 
 and asked the suitors to let him have a ship with a crew of 
 twenty men, that he might follow the advice given him by 
 Minerva. 
 
 224 Mentor now upbraided his countrymen for standing idly by 
 when they could easily coerce the suitors into good behaviour, 
 and after a few insolent words from Leocritus the meeting 
 dispersed. The suitors then returned to the house of Ulysses. 
 
 260 But Telernachus went away all alone by the sea side to 
 pray. He washed his hands in the grey waves, and implored 
 Minerva to assist him ; whereon the goddess came up to him 
 in the form of Mentor. She discoursed to him about his 
 conduct generally, and wound up by saying that she would not 
 only And him a ship, but would come with him herself. He 
 was therefore to go home and get the necessary provisions 
 ready. 
 
 296 He did as she directed him and went home, where, after an 
 angry scene with the suitors, in which he again published his 
 intention of going on his voyage, he went down into the store 
 
 * The moiintain is singular, as though it were an isolated mountain rather than a 
 range that was in the mind of the writer. It is also singular, not plural, in the parallel 
 ^;a^es of xv. 175 and xix. 538, 
 
STORY OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 23 
 
 room and told Euryclea to get the provisions ready ; at the 
 same time he made her take a solemn oath of secrecy for ten 
 or twelve days, so as not to alarm Penelope. Meanwhile 
 Minerva, still disguised as Mentor, borrowed a ship from a 
 neighbour, ISToemon, and at nightfall, after the suitors had left 
 as usual, she and Telemachus with his crew of twenty volunteers 
 got the provisions on board and set sail, with a fair wind that 
 whistled over the waters. 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 Telemachus at the house of Nestor, 
 
 They reached Pylos on the following morning, and found 
 Nestor, his sons, and all the Pylians celebrating the feast of 
 Neptune. They were cordially received, especially by Nestor’s 
 son Pisistratus, and were at once invited to join the festivities. 
 After dinner Nestor asked them who they were, and Tele¬ 
 machus, emboldened by Minerva, explained that they came 
 from Ithaca under Neritum,* and that he was seeking news of 
 the death of his father Ulysses. 
 
 When he heard this, Nestor told him all about his own 102 
 adventures on his way home from Troy, but could give him no 
 news of Ulysses. He touched, however, on the murder of 
 Agamemnon by ^gisthus, and the revenge taken by Orestes.t 
 
 Telemachus said he wished he might be able to take a like 201 
 revenge on the suitors of his mother, who were ruining him ; 
 
 “ but this,” he exclaimed, “ could not happen, not even if the 
 gods wished it. It is too much even to think of.” 
 
 Minerva reproved him sharply. “ The hand of heaven,” 229 
 she said, “ can reach far when it has a mind to save a man.” 
 Telemachus then changed the conversation, and asked Nestor 
 how A^gisthus managed to kill Agamemnon, who was so much 
 the better man of the two. What was Menelaus doing ? 
 
 * Reading viroui^piTov for uVoi^ijtou, cf.i. 18& and also xiii. 351. 
 t The reader will note that the fact of Orestes having also killed his mother is not 
 expressly stated here, nor in any of the three other passages in which the revenge 
 taken by Orestes is referred to—doubtless as being too horrible. The other passages 
 are Od. i. 40 and 299 (not given in this summary), and xi. 408, &c, 
 
24 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 253 Menelaus,” answered Nestor, “ had not yet returned from 
 
 266 his long wanderings. As for Clytemnestra, she was naturally 
 of a good disposition, hut was beguiled by iEgisthns, who 
 reigned seven years in Mycene after he had killed Agamemnon. 
 In the eighth year, however, Orestes came from Athens and 
 
 311 killed him, and on the very day when Orestes was celebrating 
 the funeral feast of ^gisthns and Clytemnestra, Menelaus 
 returned. Go then to Sparta, and see if he can tell you any¬ 
 thing,” 
 
 329 By this time the sun had set, and Minerva proposed that 
 she and Telemachus should return to their ship, but Nestor 
 would not hear of their doing so. Minerva therefore con¬ 
 sented that Telemachus should stay on shore, and explained 
 that she could not remain with him inasmuch as she must 
 start on the following morning for the Cauconians, to recover a 
 large debt that had been long owing to her. 
 
 371 Having said this, to the astonishment of all present she 
 dew away in the form of an eagle. Whereon Nestor grasped 
 Telemachus’s hand and said he could see that he must be a 
 very important person. He also at once vowed to gild the 
 horns of a heifer and sacrifice her to the goddess. He then 
 took Telemachus home with him and lodged him in his own 
 house. 
 
 404 Next day Nestor fulfilled his vow ; the heifer was brought 
 in from the plains, her horns were gilded, and Nestor’s wife 
 Eurydice and her daughters shouted with delight at seeing her 
 killed. 
 
 477 After the banquet that ensued Nestor sent Telemachus and 
 his son Pisistratus olf in a chariot and pair for Lacedeemon, 
 which they reached on the following morning, after passing a 
 night in the house of Diodes at Pherm. 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 Telemachus at the house of Menelaus—The suitors resolve to 
 lie in wait for him as he returns^ and murder him. 
 
 When the two young men reached Lacedaemon they drove 
 draight to Menelaus’s house [and found him celebrating 
 
STORY OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 25 
 
 tile double marriage of his daughter Hermione and his son 
 Megapenthes.]* 
 
 Meu elans (after a little demur on the part of his major 22 
 domo Eteoneus, for which he was severely reprimanded by his 
 master) entertained his guests very hospitably, and overhearing 
 Telemachus call his friend’s attention to the splendour of the 
 house, he explained to them how much toil and sorrow he had 
 endured, especially through the murder of his brother Aga¬ 
 memnon, the plundering of his house by Paris when he carried 
 off Helen, and the death of so many of his brave comrades at 
 Troy. “ There is one man, however,” he add^d, “ of whom I 
 cannot even think without loathing both food and sleep. I 
 mean Ulysses.” 
 
 When Telemachus heard his father thus mentioned he could 112 
 not restrain his tears, and while Menelaus was in doubt what 
 to say or not say, Helen came down (dinner being now half 
 through) with her three attendant maidens, Adraste, Alcippe, 
 and Phylo, who set a seat for her and brought her her famous 
 work box which ran on wheels, that she might begin to spin. 
 
 “And who pray,” said she to her husband, “may these two 138 
 gentlemen be who are honouring us with their presence ? 
 Shall 1 guess right or wrong, but I really must say what I 
 think. I never saw such a likeness—neither in man nor 
 woman. This young man can only be Telemachus, whom 
 Ulysses left behind him a baby in arms when he set out for 
 Troy.” 
 
 “ I too,” answered Menelaus, “ have observed the likeness. 147 
 It is unmistakeable.” 
 
 On this Pisistratus explained that they were quite right, 155 
 whereon Menelaus told him all he had meant doing for 
 Ulysses, and this was so affecting that all the four who 
 were at table burst into tears. After a little while Pisistratus 
 complimented Menelaus on his great sagacity (of which indeed 
 his father Nestor had often told him), and said that he did not 
 like weeping when he was getting his dinner ; he therefore 
 
 * For fuller translation and explanation why I have bracketed the passage, see 
 Chapter vi. 
 
26 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 proposed that the remainder of their lamentation should be 
 deferred until next morning. Menelans assented to this, and 
 220 dinner was allowed to proceed. Helen mixed some Nepenthe 
 with the wine, and cheerfulness was thus restored. 
 
 235 Helen then told how she had met Ulysses when he entered 
 Troy as a spy, and explained that by that time she was 
 already anxious to return home, and was lamenting the cruel 
 261 calamity which Venus had inflicted on her in separating her 
 from her little girl and from her husband, who was really not 
 deficient either in jierson or understanding. 
 
 265 Menelans capped her story with an account of the adven¬ 
 tures of the Achmans inside the wooden horse. “ Do you not 
 remember,” said he, “ how you walked all round it when we 
 were inside, and patted it ? You had Deiphobus with you, and 
 279 you kept on calling out our names and mimicking our wives, 
 till Minerva came and took you away. It was Ulysses’ 
 presence of mind that then saved us.” 
 
 290 When he had told this, Telemachus said it was time to go 
 to rest, so he and Pisistratus were shown to their room in the 
 vestibule, while Menelans and Helen retired to the interior of 
 the house.^ 
 
 306 When morning came Telemachus told Menelans about the 
 suitors, and asked for any information he could give him con¬ 
 cerning the death of his father. Menelans was greatly shocked, 
 but could only tell him what he had heard from Proteus. He 
 said that as he was coming from Egypt he had been detained 
 some weeks through, the displeasure of the gods, in the island 
 of Pharos, where he and his men would have been starved but 
 for the assistance given him. by a goddess Idothea, daughter to 
 Proteus, who taught him how to ensnare her father, and 
 compel him to say why heaven was detaining him. 
 
 440 “Idothea,” said Menelans, “disguised me and my three 
 chosen comrades as seals; to this end she had brought four 
 
 * It is curious that the sleeping arrangements made by Helen for Telemachus and 
 Pisistratus, as also those made for Ulysses by Queen Arete (vii. 336, &c.), though 
 taken almost verbatim from those made by Achilles for Priam and Idgeus (11. xxiv. 
 643-47 and C73-76), should do so well for a building of such a different character aa 
 the house of Menelaus must have been from the quarters of Achilles before Troy. 
 
STORY OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 27 
 
 fresli-flayed seal-sldns, under wliicli slie liid us. The strong 
 smell of these skins was most distressing to us—Who would 
 go to bed with a sea monster if he could help it ? but Idothea 443 
 put some ambrosia under each man’s nostrils, and this afforded 
 us great relief. Other seals (Halsoydne’s chickens as they call 
 them) now kept coming up by hundreds, and lay down to bask 
 uj)on the beach. 
 
 “ Towards noon Proteus himself came up. First he counted 45o 
 all his seals to see that he had the right number, and he 
 counted us in with the others; when he had so done he lay 
 down in the midst of them, as a shepherd with his sheep, and 
 as soon as he was asleep we pounced upon him and gripped 
 him tight; at one moment he became a lion, the next he was 
 running water, and then again he was a tree; but we never 
 loosed hold, and in the end he grew weary, and told us what 
 we would know. 
 
 “ He told me also of the fate of Ajax, son of Oileus, and of 499 
 my brother Agamemnon. Lastly he told me about Ulysses, 
 who he said was in the island of the nymph Calypso, unable to 
 get away inasmuch as he had neither ship nor crew. 
 
 “ Then he disappeared under the sea, and I, after appeasing 570 
 heaven’s anger as he had instructed me, returned quickly and 
 safely to my own country.” 
 
 Having finished his story Menelaus pressed Telemachus to 587 
 remain with him some ten or twelve days longer, and promised 
 to give him a chariot and a pair of horses as a keepsake, but 
 Telemachus said that he could, not stay. “ I could listen to 
 you,” said he, “ for a whole twelve months, and never once 
 think about my home and my parents ; but my men, whom I 
 have left at Pylos, are already impatient for me to return. As 
 for any present you may make me, let it be a piece of plate. 
 
 I cannot take horses to Ithaca; it contains no plains nor 
 meadow lands, and is more fit for breeding goats than horses. 
 None of our islands are suited for chariot races, and Ithaca 
 least among them all.” 
 
 Menelaus smiled, and said he could see that Telemachus 609 
 came of good family. He had a piece of plate, of very great 
 value, which was just the thing, and Telemachus should have it. 
 
28 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 621 [Guests now kept coming to the king’s house, bringing both 
 wine and sheep, and their wives had put them up a provision 
 of bread. Thus, then, did they set about cooking their dinner 
 in the courts.]* 
 
 625 Meanwhile, the suitors in Ithaca were playing at quoits, 
 earning spears at a mark, and behaving with all their old 
 insolence on the level ground in front of Ulysses’ house. 
 While they were thus engaged Noemon came up and asked 
 Antinous if he could say when Telemachus was likely to be 
 back from Pylos, for he wanted his ship. On this everything 
 came out, and the suitors, who had no idea that Telemachus 
 had really gone (for they thought he was only away on one of 
 his farms in Ithaca), were very angry. They therefore deter¬ 
 mined to lie in wait for him on his return, and made ready to 
 start. 
 
 675 Medon, a servant, overhead their plot, and told all to 
 Penelope, who, like the suitors, learned for the first time that 
 her son had left home and gone to Pylos. She bitterly up¬ 
 braided her women for not having given her a call out of her 
 bed when Telemachus was leaving, for she said she was sure 
 they knew all about it. Presently, however, on being calmed 
 by Euryclea, she went upstairs and offered sacrifice to Minerva. 
 After a time she fell into a deep slumber, during which she 
 was comforted by a vision of her sister Ipthime, which Minerva 
 had sent to her bedside. 
 
 842 When night fell the suitors set sail, intending to way-lay 
 Telemachus in the Strait between Same and Ithaca. 
 
 BOOK T. 
 
 Ulysses in the island of Calypso^He leaves the island on a 
 raft, and after great suffei'ing reaches the 
 land of the Phceacians. 
 
 The gods now held a second council, at which Minerva and 
 Jove both spoke. 
 
 28 When Jove had done speaking he sent Mercury to Calypso 
 
 * For explanation why I bracket this passage see Chapter vi. 
 
STORY OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 29 
 
 to tell her that Ulysses was to return home, reaching the land 
 of the Ph^3eacians in twenty days. The Phmacians would load 
 him with presents and send him on to Ithaca. 
 
 Mercury, therefore, flew over the sea like a cormorant that 43 
 fishes every hole and corner of the deep. In the course of time 
 he reached Calypso’s cave and told his storyCalypso was 
 very angry, but seeing there was no help for it promised 
 obedience. As soon as Mercury was gone she went to look for 
 Ulysses, whom she found weeping as usual and looking out 
 ever sadly upon the sea; she told him to build himself a raft 
 and sail home upon it, but Ulysses was deeply suspicious and 
 would not be reassured till she had sworn a very solemn oath 
 that she meant him no harm, and was advising him in all good 
 faith. 
 
 The pair then returned to Calypso’‘S cave. “ I cannot 192 
 understand,” she said, “ why you will not stay quietly here with 
 me, instead of all the time thinking about this wife of yours. 
 
 I cannot believe that I am any worse looking than she is. If 
 you only knew how much hardship you will have to undergo 206 
 before you get back, you would stay where you are and let me 
 make you immortal.” 
 
 “Do not be angry with me,” answered Ulysses^ “you are 2i5 
 infinitely better looking than Penelope. You are a goddess, 
 and she is but a mortal woman. There can be no comparison. 
 Nevertheless, come wliat may, I have a craving to get back ta 
 my own homo.” 
 
 The next four days were spent in making the raft. Calypso 228 
 lent him her axe and auger and shewed him where the trees 
 grew which would be driest and whose timber would be the 240 
 best seasoned, and Ulysses cut them down.. He made the raft 
 about as broad in the beam as people generally make a good 
 big ship, and he gave it a rudder—-that he might be able to 255 
 steer it. 
 
 Calypso then washed him,, gave him clean clothes, and 264 
 he set out, steering his ship skilfully by means of the rudder. 270 
 He steered towards the Great Bear, which is also called the 
 Wain, keeping it on his left hand, for so Calypso had advised 
 him. 
 
30 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 278 All went well with him for seventeen days, and on the 
 eighteenth he caught sight of the faint outlines of the 
 Pliasacian coast lying long and low upon the horizon. 
 
 282 Here, however, Neptune, who was on his way home from 
 the Ethiopians, caught sight of him and saw the march that 
 the other gods had stolen upon him during his absence. He 
 therefore stirred the sea round with his trident, and raised a 
 frightful hurricane, so that Ulysses could see nothing more, 
 
 294 everything being dark as night; presently he was washed 
 overboard, but managed to regain his raft. 
 
 333 He was giving himself up for lost when Ino, also named 
 Leucothea, took pity on him- and flew on to his raft like a sea 
 gull; she reassured him and gave him her veil, at the same 
 time telling him to throw it back into the sea as soon as he 
 reached land, and to turn his face away from the sea as 
 he did so. 
 
 351 The storm still raged, and the raft went to pieces under its 
 fury, whereon Ulysses bound Ino’s veil under his arms and 
 began to swim. Neptune on seeing this was satisfled and 
 went away. 
 
 369 As soon as he was gone Minerva calmed all the winds 
 except the North, which blew strong for two days and two 
 nights, so that Ulysses was carried to the South again. On 
 the morning of the third day he saw land quite close, but was 
 nearly dashed to pieces against the rocks on trying to leave the 
 
 451 water. At last he found the mouth of a river, who, in answer 
 to Ulysses’s prayer, stayed his flow, so that Ulysses was able 
 to swim inland and get on shore. 
 
 456 Nearly dead with exhaustion and in great doubt what to 
 do, he first threw Ino’s veil into the salt waters of ,the river? 
 and then took shelter on the rising ground, inland. Here he 
 covered himself with a thick bed of leaves and fell fast asleep. 
 
 BOOK YI. 
 
 The meeting between Ulysses and Nausicaa. 
 
 While Ulysses was thus slumberiug, Minerva went to the 
 land of the Phaaacians, on which Ulysses had been cast. 
 
STORY or THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 31 
 
 Now the Phc^aciaus used to live in Hypereia near the law- 4 
 less Cyclopes, who were stronger than they were and plundered 
 them ; so their king Nansithons removed them to Scheria,* 
 where they were secure. Nausithons was now dead, and his 
 son Alcinons was reigning. 
 
 Alcinons had an o-nly daughter, Nansicaa, who was in her 
 bedroom fast asleep. Minerra went to her bedside and 
 appeared to her in a dream, having assumed the form of one 
 Captain Dymas’s daughter, who was a bosom friend of Nan- 
 sicaa’s. She reminded her of her approaching' marriage (for 
 which, however, the bridegroom had not yet been decided 
 upon), and upbraided her for not making due preparation by 
 the washing' of her own and of the family linen. She pro¬ 
 posed, therefore, that on the following morning Naiisicaa 
 should take all the unwashed clothes to the washing cisterns, 
 and said that she would come and help her : the cisterns being' 
 some distance from the town, she advised Nausicaa to ask her 
 father to let her have a waggon and mules. 
 
 Nausicaa, on waking, told her father and mother about her 50 
 dream, “ Papa, dear,”t said she, could you manage to let me 
 have a good big waggon ? 1 want to take all our dirty clothes 
 to the river and wash them. Yon are the chief man here, so 
 it is only proper that you should have a clean shirt when yon 60 
 attend meetings of the council. Moreover yon have five sons, 
 two of them married, while the other three are good looking 
 young bachelors ; yon know they always like to have clean 
 linen when they go out to a dance.’’ 
 
 Her father promised her all she wanted. The waggon was 71 
 made ready, her mother put her up a basket of provisions, and 
 Nansicaa drove her maids to the banlv of the river, where were 
 the cisterns, through which there flowed enough clear water to 
 wash clothes however dirty they might be. They washed their 
 clothes in the pits by treading upon them, laid them out to dry 
 upon the sea-beach, had their dinner as the clothes were drying, 
 and then began to play at ball while Naiisicaa sang to them. 
 
 In the coarse of time, when they were thinking about lio 
 
 * Scheria means “Jutland”—a piece of land jutting out into the sea, 
 t Gr. TraTTTra line 57. 
 
32 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 starting home, Minerva woke Ulysses, who was in the wood 
 jilst above them. He sat np, heard the voices and laughter of 
 the women, and wondered where he was. 
 
 127 He resolved on going to see, hut remembering that he had 
 no clothes on, he held a hough of olive before him, and then, 
 all grim, naked, and unkempt as he was, he came out and 
 drew near to the women, who all of them ran away along the 
 beach and the points that jutted into the sea. Hausicaa, how¬ 
 ever, stood firm, and Ulysses set himself to consider whether 
 he should go boldly up to her and embrace her knees, or speak 
 to her from a respectful distance. 
 
 115 On the whole he concluded that this would be the most 
 prudent course ; and having adopted it, he began by asking 
 Hausicaa to inform him whether she was a goddess or no. If 
 she was a goddess,, it was obvious from her beauty that she 
 could only be Diana. If on the other hand she was a mortal, 
 how happy would he be whose proposals in the way of settle¬ 
 ments had seemed most advantageous, and who' should take 
 her to his own home. Finally he asked her to be kind enough 
 to give him any old wrapper which she might have brought 
 with her to wrap the clothes in, and to show him the way to 
 the town. 
 
 186 Hausicaa replied that he seemed really ta-be a very sensible 
 person, but that people must put up with their luck whatever 
 it might happen to be. She then explained that he had come 
 to the land of the Phseacians, and promised to conduct him to 
 their city. 
 
 198 Having so said, she told her maids not to he such cowards. 
 “The man,” she said, “is quite harmless ; we live away from 
 all neighbours on a land’s end, with the sea roaring on either 
 side of us, and no one can hurt us. See to this poor fellow, 
 therefore, and give him something to eat.” 
 
 211 When they heard this the maids came back and gave 
 Ulysses a shirt and cloak ; they also gave him a bottle of oil 
 and told him to go and wash in the river, but he said, “ I will 
 not wash myself while you keep standing there. I cannot 
 bring myself to strip before a number of good-looking young 
 women.” So tliey went and told their mistress. 
 
S'rORY OF THE ODYSSEY.- 
 
 33 
 
 When Ulysses had done washing, Minerva made him look 224 
 much grander and more imposing, and gave him a thick head 
 of hair which flowed down in hyacinthine cnrls about his 
 shoulders, Uansicaa Was very mnch struck with the change 
 in his appearance. “ At first,” she said, “ I thought him quite 
 plain, but now he is of godlike beauty. I wish I might have 
 such a man as that for my husband, if he would only stay 
 here. But never mind this ; girls, give him something to eat 
 and drink/’ 
 
 The maids then set meat and drink before Ulysses, who 247 
 was ravenously hungry. While he was eating, f^ausicaa got 
 the clothes folded up and put on to the cart; after which she 
 gave him his instructions. “Follow after the cart,” she said, 
 
 “ along with the maids, till you get near the houses. As for 
 the town, you will find it lying between two good harbours, 263 
 and approached by a narrow neck of land, on either side of 
 which you will see the ships drawn up—for every man has a 
 place where he can let his boat lie. You will also see the 
 walls, and the temple of Neptune standing in the middle of 
 the paved market-place, with the ship-brokers’ shops all 
 round it- 
 
 “ When you get near the town drop behind, for the people 273 
 here are very ill-natured, and they would talk about me. 
 They would say, ‘ Who is this fine looking stranger that is 
 going about with Nausicaa ? Where did she find him ? I 
 suppose she is going to marry him. Is he a sailor whom she 
 has picked up from some foreign vessel, or has a god come 
 down from heaven in answer to her prayers and he is going to 
 marry her ? It would be a good thing if she would go and 
 find a husband somewhere else, for she will have nothing to 
 say to any of the many excellent Pha3acians who are in love 
 with her.’ This is what people would say, and I could not 
 blame them, for I should be scandalised myself if I saw any 
 girl going about with a stranger, while her father and mother 
 were yet alive, without being married to him in the face of all 
 the world. 
 
 “ Do then as I say. When you come to the grove of 289 
 Minerva a little outside the town, wait till you think I and the 
 
34 
 
 THE AUTHOKESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 maids must have got home. Then come after ns, ask which is 
 Alcinous’s house, and when yon reach it go straight through 
 the outer and inner courts till you come to my mother. You 
 will see her sitting with her back to a hearing-post, and 
 spinning her purple yarn by the fire. My father will be sitting 
 close by her; never mind about him, but go and embrace my 
 mother’s knees for if she looks favourably on your suit, you 
 will probably get what you want.” 
 
 316 Nausicaa then drove on, and as the sun was about setting 
 they came to the grove of Minerva, where Ulysses sat down 
 and waited. He prayed Minerva to assist him, and she heard 
 his prayer, but she would not manifest herself to him, for she 
 did not want to offend her uncle Neptune. 
 
 BOOK VII. 
 
 The splendours of the house of King Alcinous—Queen Arete 
 wants to know where Ulysses got his shirt and cloak^for 
 she knows them as her own work—Ulysses explains. 
 
 When Nausicaa reached home her brothers attended to the 
 waggon and mules, and her waiting-woman Eurymedusa lit 
 the fire and brought her supper for her into her own room. 
 
 14 Presently Ulysses considered it safe to come on, and entered 
 the town enveloped in a thick mist which Minerva shed round 
 him for his protection from any rudeness that the Phasacians 
 might offer him. She also met him outside the town disguised 
 as a little girl carrying a pitcher. 
 
 21 Ulysses saw her in spite of the mist, and asked her,to show 
 him the way to the house of Alcinous ; this, she said, she could 
 easily do, and when they reached the house she told Ulysses 
 all about the king’s family history, and advised him how he 
 should behave himself. 
 
 50 “ Be bold,” she said; “ boldness always tells, no matter 
 
 where, a man comes from. First find the mistress of the 
 house. She is of the same family as her husband, and her 
 descent is in this wise. Eurymedon was king of the giants, 
 but he and his people were overthrown, and he lost his own 
 
STORY OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 35 
 
 life. His youngest daughter was Periboea, a woman of sur¬ 
 passing beauty, who gave birth by Neptune to Nausithous, 
 king of the Phseacians. He had two sons, Phexenor and 62 
 Alcinous; Phexenor died young, leaving an only daughter. 
 Arete, whom her uncle Alcinous married, and whom he 
 honours as no other woman in the whole world is honoured by 
 her husband. All her family and all her neighbours adore her 
 as a friend and peacemaker, for she is a thoroughly good 
 woman. If you can gain her good offices all will go well with 
 you.” 
 
 Minerva then left him and went to Marathon and Athens, 78 
 where she visited the house of Erechtheus, but Ulysses went 
 on to the house of Alcinous, and he pondered much as he paused 
 awhile before he reached the threshold of bronze, for the 
 splendour of the palace was like that of the sun and moon. 
 
 The walls on either side were of bronze from end to end, and 
 the cornice was of blue enamel. The doors were of gold and 
 hung on pillars of silver that rose from a floor of bronze, while 
 the lintel was of silver and the hook of the door was of gold. 
 
 On either side there were gold and silver mastiffs which 9i 
 Vulcan with his consummate skill had fashioned expressly to 
 keep watch over the palace of King Alcinous, so they were 
 immortal and could never grow old.- Seats were ranged here 
 and there all along the wall, from one end to the other, with 
 coverings of fine woven work, which the Women of the house 
 had made. Here the chief persons of the Phteacians used to 
 sit and eat and drink, for there was abundance at all seasons ; 
 and there were golden figures of young men with lighted 
 torches in their hands, raised on pedestals to give light to them 
 that sat at meat. 
 
 There are fifty women servants in the house, some of whom los 
 are always grinding rich yellow grain at the mill, while others 
 work at the loom and sit and spin, and their shuttles go back¬ 
 wards and forwards like the fluttering of aspen leaves, 
 while the linen is so closely woven that it will turn oil. As 
 the Ph^eacians are the best sailors in the world, so their 
 women excel all others in weaving, for Minerva has taught 
 them all manner of useful arts, and they are very intelligent. 
 
 d2 
 
36 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 Outside the gate of the outer court there is a large garden* 
 of about four acres, with a wall all round it. It is full of 
 beautiful trees—pears, pomegranates, and the most delicious 
 apples. There are luscious figs also, and olives in full growth. 
 The fruits never rot nor fail all the year round, neither winter 
 nor summer, for the air is so soft that a new crop ripens before 
 the old has dropped. Pear grows on pear, apple on apple, and 
 fig on fig, and so also with the grapes, for there is an excellent 
 vineyard; on the level ground of a part of this, the grapes are 
 being made into raisins; on another part they are being 
 gathered; some are being trodden in the wine-tubs ; others, 
 further on, have shed their blossom and are beginning to show 
 fruit; others, again, are just changing colour. In the furthest 
 part of the ground there are beautifully arranged beds of 
 fiowers that are in bloom all the year round. Two streams go 
 through it, the one turned in ducts throughout the whole 
 garden, while the other is carried under the ground of the 
 outer court to the house itself, and the townspeople drew 
 water from it. Such, then, were the splendours with which 
 heaven had endowed the house of King Alcinous. 
 
 3 33 So here Ulysses stood for a while and looked about 
 him, but when he had looked long enough he crossed the 
 threshold and went within the precincts of the house. He 
 passed through the crowd of guests who were nightly visitors 
 at the table of King Alcinous, and who were then making 
 
 137 their usual drink offering to Mercury before going for the 
 night. He was still shrouded in the mist of invisibility with 
 which Minerva had invested him, and going up to Arete he 
 embraced her knees, whereon he suddenly became Visible. 
 Every one was greatly surprised at seeing a man there, but 
 Ulysses paid no attention to this, and at once implored the 
 queen’s assistance ; he then sat down among the ashes on the 
 hearth. 
 
 154 Alcinous did not know what to do or say, nor yet did any 
 one else till one of the guests Echenelis told him it was not 
 
 * Penelope and Calypso also had gardens : so had Laertes (xxiv. 247). I remembe? 
 no allusion to them in the Iliad. 
 
STORY OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 37 
 
 creditable to liim that a suppliant should be left thus grovelling 
 among the ashes. Alcinons ought to give him a seat and set 
 food before him. This was accordingly done, and after Ulysses 
 had finished eating Alcinons made a speech, in which he pro¬ 
 posed that they should have a great banquet next day in their 
 guest’s honour, and then provide him an escort to take him to 
 his own home. This was agreed to, and after a while the 
 other guests went home to bed. 
 
 When they were gone Ulysses was left alone with Alcinons 230 
 and Arete sitting over the fire, while the servants were taking 
 the things away after supper. Then Arete said, “ Stranger, 
 before we. go any further there is a question I should like to 
 put to you. Who are you ? and who gave you those clothes ? ” 
 for- she recognised the shirt and cloak Ulysses was wearing as 
 her own work, and that of her maids. 
 
 Ulysses did not give his name, but told her how he had 240 
 come from Calypso’s island, and been wrecked on the Phaea- 
 cian coast. “Next day,” he said, “I fell in with your 
 daughter, who treated me with much greater kindness than 
 one could have expected from so young a person—for young 
 people are apt to be thoughtless. It was she who gave me the 
 clothes.” 
 
 Alcinous then said he wishedUhe stranger would stay with 308 
 them for good and all and marry Nausicaa. They would not, 
 however, press this, and if he insisted on going they would 
 send him, no matter where. “Even though.it he further than 
 Euboea, which they say is further off than any other place, we 
 will send you, and you shall be taken, so, easily that you may 
 sleep the whole way if you like.” 318 
 
 To this Ulysses only replied by praying that the king 329 
 might be as good as his word. A bed was then made for him 
 in the gate-house and they all retired for the night. 
 
 BOOK VIII. 
 
 The Phceacian games and banquet in honour of Ulysses. 
 
 When morning came Alcinons called an assembly of the 
 Phoeacians, and Minerva went about urging every one to come 
 
38 
 
 THE AUTHORESS QE THE QPySSEY, 
 
 and see the wonderful stranger. She also gave Ulysses a 
 more imposing presence that he might impress the people 
 favourably. When the Phicacians were assembled Alcinous 
 said 
 
 28 “ I do not know who this stranger is, nor where he comes 
 
 from ; but he wants us to send him to his own home, and no 
 guest of mine was ever yet able to complain that I did not 
 send him home quickly enough. Let us therefore fit out a new 
 ship with a crew of fifty-two men, and send him. The crew 
 shall come to my house and I will find them in food which 
 they can cook for themselves. The aldermen and councillors 
 shall be feasted inside the house. I can take no deuial, and 
 we will have Dernodocus to sing to us,’* 
 
 46 The ship and crew were inamediately found, and the sailors 
 with all the male part of the population swarmed to the house 
 of Alcinous till the yards and barns and buildings were crowded. 
 The king provided them with twelve sheep, eight pigs and two 
 bullocks, which they killed and cooked, 
 
 62 The leading men of the town went inside the inner court¬ 
 yard ; Pontonous, the major domo^ conducted the blind bard 
 Dernodocus to a seat which he set near one of the bearing-posts 
 that supported the roof of the cloisters, hung his lyre on a peg 
 over his head, and shewed him how to feel for it with his 
 hands. He also set a table close by him with refreshments on 
 it, to which he could help himself whenever he liked. 
 
 72 As soon as the guests had done eating Dernodocus began to 
 sing the quarrel between Ulysses and Achilles before Troy, a 
 lay which at the time was famous. This so afiected Ulysses 
 that he kept on weeping as long as the bard sang, and though 
 he was able to conceal Ins tears from the company generally, 
 Alcinous perceived his distress, and proposed that they should 
 all now adjourn to the athletic sports-^which were to consist 
 mainly of boxing, wrestling, jumping, and foot racing, 
 
 105 Dernodocus, therefore, hung the lyre on its peg and was led 
 out to the place where the sports were to be held. The whole 
 town flocked to see them. Olytonetis won the foot race, 
 Euryalus took the prize for wrestling, Amphialus was the 
 best jumper, and Alcinous’ son Laodamas the best boxer, 
 
STORY OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 39 
 
 Laodamas and Euryalns then proposed that Ulysses should 131 
 enter himself for one of the prizes. Ulysses replied that he 
 was a stranger and a siijopliant; moreover, he had lately gone 
 through great hardships, and would rather be excused. 
 
 Euryalns on this insulted Ulysses, and said that he sup- 158 
 posed he was some grasping merchant who thought of nothing 
 but his freights. “You have none of the look,” said he, “of 
 an athlete about you,” 
 
 Ulysses was furious, and told Euryalns that he was a good- 164 
 looking young fool. He then took up a disc far heavier than 
 those which the Phseacians were in the habit of throwing.* 
 The disc made a hurtling sound as it passed through the air, 
 and easily surpassed any throw that had been made yet. Thus 
 encouraged he made another long and very angry speech, in 
 which he said he would compete with any Pheeaoian in any 
 contest they chose to name, except in running, for he was still 
 so much pulled down that he thought they might beat him 
 here. “ Also,” he said, “ I will not compete in anything with 
 Laodamas. He is my host’s son, and it is a most unwise thing 
 for a guest to, challenge any member of his host’s family. A 
 iriau must be an idiot tO: think of such a thing.” 
 
 “ Sir,” said Alcinous, “ I understand that you are displeased 236 
 at some remarks that have fallen from one of our athletes, who 
 has thrown doubt upon your prowess in a way that no gentle¬ 
 man would do. I hear that you have also given us a general 
 challenge., I should explain that we are not famous for our 
 skill in boxing or wrestling, but are singularly deet runners 
 and bold mariners. We are also much given to song and 
 dance, and we like warm baths and frequent changes of linen. 
 
 So now come forward some of you who are the nimblest 
 dancers, and show the stranger how much we surpass other 
 nations in all graceful accomplishments. Let some one 
 also bring Pemodocus’s lyre from my house where he has 
 left it.”' 
 
 * It is a little odd that this disc should have been brought, considering- that none 
 such were used by the Phseacians. We must suppose that Minerva put it in along 
 with the others, and then shed a thick darkness over it, which prevented the attendants 
 a’om noticing it. 
 
40 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 256 The lyre was immediately brought, the dancers began to 
 dance, and Ulysses admired the merry twinkling of their feet. 
 
 266 While they were dancing Demodocus sang the intrigue 
 between Mars and Venus in the house of Vulcan, and told how 
 Vulcan took the pair prisoners. All the gods came to see 
 
 324 them ; but the goddesses were modest and would not come. 
 
 370 Alcinous then made Halius and Laodamas have a game at 
 ball, after which Ulysses expressed the utmost admiration of 
 their skill. Charmed with the compliment Ulysses had paid 
 his sons, the king said that the twelve aldermen (with him¬ 
 self, which would make tliirteen) must at once give Ulysses a 
 shirt and cloak and a talent of gold, so that he might eat his 
 supper with a light heart. As for Euryalus, he must not only 
 make a present, but apologise as well, for he had been rude. 
 
 398 Euryalus admitted his fault, and gave Ulysses his sword 
 with its scabbard, which was of new ivory. He said Ulysses 
 would find it worth a great deal of money to him. 
 
 412 Ulysses thanked him, wished him all manner of good 
 fortune, and said he hoped Euryalus would not feel the want 
 of the sword which he had just given him along with his 
 apology. 
 
 417 Night was now falling, they therefore adjourned to the 
 house of Alcinous. Here the presents began to arrive, whereon 
 the king desirediArete to find Ulysses a chest in which to stow 
 them, and to put a shirt and clean cloak in it as his own con¬ 
 tribution ; he also declared his intention of giving him a gold 
 cup.* Meanwhile, he said that Ulysses had better have a 
 warm bath. . 
 
 433 The bath was made ready. Arete packed all the gold and 
 23resents which the Phseacian aldermen had sent, as also the 
 shirt and tunic from Alcinous. Arete told Ulysses to see to 
 the fastening, lest some one should rob him while he was 
 
 445 asleep on the ship ; Ulysses therefore fastened the lid on to 
 
 * Alcinous never seems to have got beyond saying that he was going to give the 
 cup ; he never gives it, nor yet the talent—the familiar ws eIttiov sv 'tlOel k.'t.X. 
 
 is noticeably absent. He found the chest, and he took a great deal of pains about 
 stowing the presents in the ship that was to take Ulysses to Ithaca (see xiii. 18, &c.), 
 but here his contributions seem to have ended. 
 
STOKY OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 41 
 
 tlie cliest with a knot wliicli Circe had taught him. He then 
 went into the hath room—-very gladly, for he had not had a 
 bath since he left Calypso, who as long as he was with her had 
 taken as good care of him as though he had been a god. 
 
 As he came from the bath room Hansicaa was standing by 457 
 one of the bearing-posts that supported the roof of the cloisters 
 and bade him farewell, reminding him at the same time that 
 it was she who had been the saving of him—a fact which 
 Ulysses in a few words gracefully acknowledged. 
 
 He then took his seat at table, and after dinner, at his 469 
 request, Demodocus sang the Sack of Troy and the Sally of 
 the Achseans from the Wooden Horse. This again so affected 
 him that he could not restrain his tears, which, however, 
 Alcinous again alone perceived. 
 
 The king, therefore, made a speech in which he said that 536 
 the stranger ought to tell them his name. He must have one, 
 for people always gave their children names as soon as they 
 were born. He need not be uneasy about his escort. All he 
 had to do was to say where he wanted to go, and the Phseacian 
 ships were so clever that they would take him there of their own 
 accord. Nevertheless he remembered hearing his father Nan- 
 sithous say, that one day Neptune would be angry with the 
 Phseacians for giving people escorts so readily, and had said 
 he would wreck one of their ships as it was returning, and 
 would also bury their city under a high mountain. 
 
 BOOK IX. 
 
 The voyayes of Ulysses—The Cicons, Lotus eaters^ and the 
 
 Cyclops Polyphemus. 
 
 Then Ulysses rose. “ King Alcinous,” said he, “ you ask 
 my name and I will tell you. I am Ulysses, and dwell in 
 Ithaca, an island which contains a high mountain called 
 Neritum. In its neighbourhood there are other islands near 
 to one another, Dulichium, Same, and Zacynthus. It lies on 
 the horizon all highest up in the sea towards the West, while 25 
 the other islands lie away from it to the East. This is the 
 island which I would reach, for however fine a house a man 
 
42 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 may have in a land where his parents are not, there will still 
 
 , be nothing sweeter to him than his home and his own father 
 and mother. 
 
 37 1 will now tell yon of my adventures. On leaving Troy 
 
 we first made a descent on the land of the Cicons, and sacked 
 their city but were eventually beaten off, though we took our 
 booty with us. 
 
 62 “ Thence we sailed South with a strong North wind behind 
 
 us, till we reached the island of Cythera, where we were driven 
 off our course by a continuance of North wind which prevented 
 my doubling Cape Malea._ 
 
 82 “ Nine days was I driven by foul winds, and on the tenth 
 
 we reached the land of the Lotus eaters, where the people were 
 good to my men but gave them to eat of the lotus, which made 
 them lose all desire to return home, so that I had a great work 
 to get those who had tasted it on board again. 
 
 105 “ Thence we were carried further, till we came to the land 
 
 of the savage Cyclopes. Off their coast, but not very far, 
 there is a wooded island abounding with wild goats. It is 
 untrodden by the foot of man; even the huntsmen, who as a 
 120 general rule will suffer any hardship in forest or on mountain 
 top, never go there; it is neither tilled nor fed down, but remains 
 year after year uninhabited savn by goats only. For the 
 Cyclopes have no ships, and cannot therefore go from place to 
 place as those who have ships can do.. If they had ships they 
 would have colonised the island, for it is not at all a bad one 
 and would bring forth all things in their season. There is 
 meadow land, well watered and of good quality, that stretches 
 down to the water’s edge. Crapes would do wonderfully well 
 there; it contains good arable land, which would yield heavy 
 crops, for the soil is rich; moreover it has a convenient port— 
 into which some god must have taken us, for the night was so 
 dark that we could see nothing. There was a thick darkness, 
 all round the ships, neither was there any moon, for the sky 
 was covered with clouds. No one could see the island, nou 
 yet waves breaking upon the shore till we found ourselv-es in 
 the harbour. Here, then, we moored our ships and camped 
 doAvn upon the beach. 
 
THE CAVE OF POLYPHEMUS. 
 
 SIG. SUGAMELI AND THE AUTHOKj IN THE CAVE OF POLYPHEMUS. 
 
 {Tu fart p. 43.) 
 
STOKY OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 43 
 
 “ When morning came we hunted the wild goats, of which 152 
 we killed over a hundred, and all day long to the going down 
 of the sun we feasted on them and the store of wine we had 
 taken from the Cicons. We kept looking also on the land of 
 the Cyclopes over against us, which was so near that we could 
 see the smoke of their stubble fires, and almost fancy we heard 
 the bleating of their sheep and goats, 
 
 “We camped a second night upon the beach, and at day 169 
 break, having called a council, I said I would take my own 
 ship and reconnoitre the country, but would leave the other 
 ships at the island. Thereon I started, but when we got near 
 the main land we saw a great cave in the clilF, not far from 
 the sea, and there were large sheep yards in front of it. On 
 landing I chose twelve men and went inland, taking with me 
 a goat skin full of a very wondrous wine that Maron, priest of 
 Apollo, had given me when 1 spared his life and that of his 
 family at the time that we were sacking the city of the Cicons. 
 The rest of my crew were to wait my return by the sea side. 
 
 “We soon reached the cave, and finding that the owner 216 
 was not at home we examined all that it contained; we saw 
 vessels brimful of whey, and racks loaded with cheeses; the 
 yards also were full of lambs and kids. My men implored me 
 to let them steal some cheeses, drive off some of the lambs and 
 kids, and sail away, but I would not, for I hoped the owner 
 might give me something, 
 
 “We lit a fire in the cave, sacrificed some of the cheeses to 231 
 the gods, and ate others ourselves, waiting till the owner 
 should return. When he came we found him to be a huge 
 monster, more like a peak standing out against the sky on 
 
 * Dwellers on the East coast of Sicily believe the island here referred to to be 
 Acitrezza, between Acireale and Catania. 1 have been all over it and do not believe 
 that it contains more than two acres of land on which any goat could ever have fed. 
 The idea that the writer of the Odyssey would make Ulysses and his large body of 
 men spend half a day in killing over a hundred goats on such a site need not be 
 discussed seriously, I shall therefore pass it over without notice when I come to discuss 
 the voyage of Ulysses. That it should be so confidently believed to be the island ofiE 
 the land of the Cyclopes serves as a warning to myself, inasmuch as it shows how 
 easily people can bring themselves to accept any site for any scene if they make up 
 their minds to do so. 
 
44 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 some high mountain than a human being. He brought in with 
 
 233 iiim a great bundle of firewood, which he flung down upon the 
 floor with such a noise that we were scared and hid ourselves. 
 He drove all his female goats and ewes into the cave, but left 
 the males outside; and then he closed the door with a huge 
 stone which not even two and twenty waggons could carry. 
 
 245 He milked his goats and ewes all orderly, and gave each one 
 her own young [for these had been left in the yards all day] ; 
 then he drank some of the milk, and put part by for his 
 supper. Presently he lit his fire and caught sight o-f us, 
 whereon he asked us who we were. 
 
 256 “I told him we were on our way home from Troy, and 
 begged him in heaven’s name to do us no hurt; but as soon as 
 I had answered his question he gripped up two of my men, 
 dashed them on the ground, and ate them raw, blood, bones, 
 and bowels, like a savage lion of the wilderness. Then he lay 
 down on the ground of the cave and went to. sleep ; on which 
 I should have crept up to him and plunged my sword into his 
 heart while he was sleeping had I not known that if I did we 
 should never be able to shift the stone. So we waited till 
 dawn should come. 
 
 307 “ When day broke the monster again lit his fire, milked his 
 
 ewes all orderly, and gave each one her own young. Then 
 he gripped up two more of my men, and as soon as he 
 had eaten them he rolled the stone from the mouth of the 
 cave, drove out his sheep, and put the stone back again. He 
 had, however, left a large and long piece of olive wood in the 
 cave, and when he had gone I and my men sharpened this at 
 one end, and hid it in the sheep dung of which there was much 
 in the cave. In the evening he returned, milked his ewes, and 
 ate two more men ; whereon I went up to him with the skin of 
 wondrous wine that Maron had given me and gave him a bowl 
 full of it. He asked for another, and then another, so I gave 
 them to him, and he was so much delighted that he enquired 
 my name and I said it was Noman. 
 
 371 “ The wine now began to take effect, and in a short time he 
 
 fell dead drunk upon the ground. Then my men and I put 
 the sharp end of the piece of olive wood in the fire till it was 
 
STORY OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 45 
 
 well burning, and drove it into tbe wretch’s eye, turning it 
 round and round as though it were an auger. After a while 
 he plucked it out, flung it from him, and began crying to his 
 neighbours for help. When they came, they said, ‘ What ails 
 you ? Who is harming you ? ’ and he answered, ‘ No man is 
 harming me.’ They then said that he must be ill, and had 
 better pray to his father Neptune; so they went away, and I 
 laughed at the success of my stratagem. 
 
 “ Then I hid my men by binding them under the sheep’s 424 
 bellies. The Cyclops, whose name was Polyphemus, groped 
 his way to the stone, rolled it away, and sat at the mouth of 
 the cave feeling the sheep’s backs as they went out; but the 
 men were under their bellies so he did not find one of them. 
 
 Nor yet did he discover me, for I was ensconced in the thick 
 belly-fleece of a ram which by some chance he had brought in 
 with the ewes. But he was near finding me, for the ram went 
 last, and he kept it for a while and talked to it. 
 
 “ When we were outside, I dropped from under the ram and 
 unbound my companions. We drove the ewes down to my 462 
 ship, got them on board, and rowed out to sea. When we 
 were a little way out I jeered at the Cyclops, whereon he tore 
 U23 a great rock and hurled it after us ; it fell in front of the 
 ship and all but hit the rudder ; the wash, moreover, that it 483 
 made nearly carried us back to the land, but I kept the ship 
 off it with a pole. 
 
 “When we had got about twice as far off as we were 491 
 before, I was for speaking to the Cyclops again, and though 
 my men tried to stay me, I shouted out to him ‘ Cyclops, if 
 you would know who it is that has blinded you, learn that it is 
 I, Ulysses, son of Laertes, who live in Ithaca.’ 
 
 “ ‘ Alas,’ he cried in answer, ‘ then the old prophecy about 506 
 me is coming true. I knew that I was to lose my sight by the 
 hand of Ulysses, but I was looking for some man of great 
 stature and noble mien, whereas he has proved to be a mere 
 whippersnapper. Come here, then, Ulysses that I may offer 
 you gifts of hospitality and pray my father Neptune, who shall 
 heal my eye, to escort you safely home. 
 
 “ ‘ I wish,’ said I, ‘ that I could be as sure of killing you 52i 
 
46 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 body and soul as I am that not even Neptune will be able to 
 cure your eye.’ 
 
 526 “ Then he prayed to Neptune saying ‘ Hear me Neptune, if 
 I am indeed your son, and vouchsafe me that Ulysses son of 
 Laertes may never reach his home. Still, if he must do so, 
 and get back to his friends, let him lose all his men, and 
 though he get home after all, let it be late, on another man’s 
 ship, and let him find trouble in his house.’ 
 
 527 “So saying he tore up a still larger rock and flung it this 
 time a little behind the ship, but so close that it all but hit the 
 rudder; the wash, however, that it made carried us forward to 
 the island from which we had set out. 
 
 556 “ There we feasted on the sheep that we had taken, and 
 
 mourned the loss of our comrades whom Polyphemus had 
 eaten. 
 
 BOOK X. 
 
 yEolus—the Lcestrygonians — Circe* 
 
 “ So we sailed on and reached the island where dwells 
 ^olus with his wife and family of six sons and six daughters, 
 who live together amid great and continuous plenty. I staid 
 with him a whole month, and when I would go, he tied all the 
 winds up (for he was their keeper) in a leather sack, which he 
 gave me; but he left the West wind free, for this was the one 
 I wanted. 
 
 28 “ Nine days did we sail, and on the tenth We could see our 
 
 native land with the stubble fires burning thereon. I had 
 never let the rudder out of my hands till then, but being now close 
 in shore I fell asleep. My men, thinking I had treasure in the 
 sack, opened it to see, on which the winds came howling out 
 and took us straight back to the iEolian island. So I went to 
 the house of J5olus and prayed him to help me, but he said, 
 ‘ Get you gone, abhorred of heaven: him whom heaven hates 
 will I.in no wise help.’ So I went full sadly away. 
 
 77 “ Six days thence did we sail onward, worn out in body and 
 
 mind, and on the seventh we reached the stronghold of king 
 Lamus, the L^strygonian city Telepylus, where the shepherd 
 
STORY OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 47 
 
 who drives his flock into the town salutes another who is 
 driving them out, and the other returns his salute. A man in 
 that country could earn double wages if he could do without 
 sleep, for they work much the same by night as they do by 
 day. Here we landed, and I climbed a high rock to look 
 round, but could see no signs of men or beast, save only smoke 
 rising from the ground. 
 
 “ Then I sent two of my crew with an attendant, to see what loo 
 manner of men the people might be, and they met a young 
 woman who was coming down to fetch water from the spring 
 Artacia, whence the people drew their water. This young 
 woman took my men to the house of her father Antiphates, 
 whereon they discovered the people to be giants and ogres like 
 Polyphemus. One of my men was gripped up and eaten, but 
 the other two escaped and reached the ships. The Ltestrygo- 
 nians raised a hue and cry after them, and rushing to the 
 harbour, within which all my ships were moored except my 
 own, they dashed my whole fleet in pieces with the rocks that 
 they threw. I and my own ship alone escaped them, for we 
 were outside, and I bade the men row for their lives. 
 
 “ On and on did we sail, till we reached the island of Circe, 133 
 where heaven guided us into a harbour. Here I again climbed 
 a rock and could see the smoke from Circe’s house rising out 
 of a thick wood; I then went back to the ship, and while on 
 my way had the good fortune to kill a noble stag, which gave 
 us a supply of meat on which we feasted all the rest of the 
 day. Next morning I held a council and told my men of the 
 smoke that I had seen. 
 
 “ Eurylochus and twenty-two men then went inland to 210 
 reconnoitre, and found Circe’s house made of squared stones 
 and standing on high ground in the middle of the forest. This 
 forest was full of wild beasts, poor dazed creatures whom Circe 
 had bewitched, but they fawned upon my men and did not . 
 harm them. When the men got to the door of her house they 
 could hear her singing inside most beautifully, so they called 
 her down, and when she came she asked them in, gave them a 
 drugged drink, and then turned them into pigs—all exce]3t 
 Eurylochus who had remained outside. 
 
48 
 
 THE AUTHOKESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 244 “Eorylochus made all liaste back to tell me, and I started 
 for Circe’s bouse. When I was in the wood where the wild 
 
 277 beasts were, Mercury met me and gave me an herb called 
 
 305 Moly, which would protect me from Circe’s spells ; he also told 
 me how I should treat her. Then I went to her house, and 
 called her to come down. 
 
 312 She asked me in, and tried to bewitch me as she had the 
 others, but the herb which Mercury had given me protected 
 me ; so I rushed at her with my drawn sword. When she 
 saw this, she said she knew I must be Ulysses, and that I 
 must marry her at once. But I said, ‘ Circe, you have just 
 turned my men into pigs, and have done your best to bewitch 
 me into the bargain; how can you expect me to be friendly 
 with you ? Still, if you will swear to take no unfair advantage 
 of me, I will consent.’ So she swore, and I consented at once. 
 
 348 “ Then she set the four maid servants of her house to wash 
 
 me and feast me, but I was still moody and would not eat till 
 Circe removed her spells from off my men, and brought them 
 back safe and sound in human form. When she had done this 
 she bade me go back to my ship and bring the rest of my 
 men—which I presently did, and we staid with her for a whole 
 twelve months, feasting continually and drinking an untold 
 quantity of wine. At last, however, my men said that if I 
 meant going home at all it was time 1 began to think of 
 starting. 
 
 480 “That night, therefore, when I was in bed with-Circe, I 
 told her how my men were murmuring, and asked her to let 
 me go. This she said she would do ; but I must first go down 
 into the house of Hades, and consult the blind Theban prophet 
 Tiresias. And she directed me what I should do. 
 
 551 “ On the following morning I told my men, and we began 
 
 to get ready; but we had an accident before we started, for 
 there was a foolish and not very valiant young man in my ship 
 named Elpenor, who had got drunk and had gone on to the 
 roof of Circe’s house to sleep off his liquor in the cool. The 
 bustle my men made woke him, and in his fiurry he forgot all 
 about coming down by the staircase, and fell right off the 
 roof; whereby he broke his neck and was killed. We started. 
 
STORY OR THE ODYSSEY^ 
 
 49 
 
 however, all the same, and Circe brought us a lamb and a 
 black sheep to offer to the Shades below. She passed in and 
 out among ns, but we could not see her; who, indeed, can see 
 the gods, when they are in no mind to be seen ? 
 
 BOOK xl. 
 
 Ulysses in the house of Hades. 
 
 “ When we were at the water side we got the lamb and the 
 ewe on board and put out to sea, running all that day before a 
 fair wind which Circe had sent ns, and at nightfall entering 
 the deep waters of the river Oceanns. Here is the land of the 
 Cimmerians, w1k> dwell in darkness which the sun’s rays never 
 pierce; we therefore made our ships fast to the shore and came 
 out of her, going along the beach till we reached the place 
 of which Circe had told us. 
 
 “ Perimedes and Eurylochus then held the victims, while I 23 
 followed the instructions of Circe and slaughtered them, letting 
 their blood flow into a trench which I had dug for it. On this, 
 the ghosts came up in crowds from Erebus, brides, young 
 bachelors,, old men, maids who had been crossed in love, and 
 warriors with their armour still smirched with blood. They 
 cried with a strange screaming sound that made me turn pale 
 with fear,, but I would let none of them taste of the blood till 
 Tiresias should have come and answered my questions. 
 
 “ The first ghost I saw was that of Elpenor whose body was 51 
 still lying unburied at Circe’s house. Then I said, ‘ How now, 
 Elpenor ? you have got here sooner by land than I have done 
 by water.’ The poor fellow told me how he had forgotten 
 about the stairs, and begged me to give him all due rites when 
 I returned to Circe’s island—which I promised faithfully that 
 1 would do. 
 
 “Then I saw the ghost of my mother Anticlea, but in all 8i 
 sadness I would not let her taste of the blood till Tiresias 
 should have come and answered my questions. 
 
 “ Presently Tiresias came with his golden sceptre in his 90 
 hand, bade me let him taste of the blood, and asked me why I 
 had come. 
 
 E 
 
50 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 97 “I told him I would learn how T was to get home to Ithaca, 
 and he said I should have much difficulty; ‘ Still,’ he continued, 
 
 ‘ you will reach your home if you can restrain your men when 
 you come to the Thrinacian island, where you will find the 
 cattle of the Sun. If you leave these unharmed, after much 
 trouble you will yet reach Ithaca; but if you harm them, you 
 will lose your men, and though you may get home after all, it 
 115 will be late, [on another man’s ship,* and you will find your 
 house full of riotous men who are wasting your substance and 
 wooing your wife. 
 
 118 “ ‘ When you have got back you will indeed kill these men 
 
 either by treachery or in fair fight, and you must then take an 
 oar, which you must carry till you have reached a people who 
 know nothing about the sea and do not mix salt with their 
 bread. These people have never heard of ships, nor of oars 
 that are the wings with which ships fly; I will tell you how you 
 may know them; you will meet a man by the way who will 
 ask you whether it is a winnowing shovel that you have got 
 upon your shoulder; when you hear this you must fix your oar 
 in the ground, and offer sacrifice to Neptune, a ram, a bull and 
 a boar; then go home again, and offer hecatombs to the gods 
 that dwell in. heaven.f As for your own end, death shall come 
 to you very gently from the sea, and shall take you when you are 
 137 full of years and jDeace of mind, and your people shall bless yuu.’] 
 150 “ Having thus said he went back within the house of Hades. 
 
 Then I let my mother’s ghost draw near and taste of tile blood, 
 whereon she knew me, and asked me what it was that had 
 brought me though still alive into the abode of death. So I 
 told her, and asked her how she had come by her end. ‘Tell 
 me, also,’ I continued, ‘ about my father, and the son whom I 
 left behind me. Is my property still safe in their hands, or 
 does another hold it who thinks that I shall not return ? Of 
 177 what mind, again, is my wife ? Does she still live with her 
 son and keep watch over his estate, or is she already married 
 to the best man among the Achseans ? ’ 
 
 * See Chapter xv. for reasons why I have bracketed lines 115—137. 
 t Ulysses was to appease Neptune’s anger by going^as a missionary to preach his 
 jaame among a people that did not know him. 
 
STORY OF THE ODYSSEY. 51 
 
 “‘Your wife,’ answered my mother, ‘is still at home, but 180 
 she spends her life in tears both night and day. Telemachns 
 holds your estate, and sees much company, for he is a magis¬ 
 trate and all men invite him. Your father lives a poor hard 
 life in the country and never goes near the town. As for me^ 
 
 I died of nothing but sheer grief on your account. And now, 
 return to the upper world as fast as you can, that you may tell 
 all that you have seen to your wife.’ 
 
 “ Then Proserpine sent up the ghosts of the wives and 225 
 daughters of great kings and heroes of old time, and I made 
 each of them tell me about herself; There were Tyro, Antiope, 
 Alcmena, Epicaste the mother of CEdipus, Chloris, Leda, 
 Iphimedea, Phasdra, Procris, Ariadne, and hateful Eriphyle ; 
 with all these did I discourse, nor can I tell you with how 
 many more noble women, for it is now late, and time to go to 
 rest.” 
 
 Here Ulvsses ceased, and froim one end of the covered 333 
 cloisters to the other his listeners sat entranced with the 
 charm of his story. 
 
 Then Arete said, “ What think you of this man now, 336 
 Phmacians, both as regards his personal appearance and his 
 abilities ? True he is my guest, but his presence is an honour 
 to you all. Be not niggardly, therefore, in the presents that 
 you will make him, for heaven has endowed you all with great 
 abundance.” Alcinous also spoke urging Ulysses to tell still 
 more of his adventures, and to say whether he met any of the 
 heroes who had fought together with him at Troy. Thus 
 pressed Ulysses resumed his story. 
 
 “ When Proserpine,” said he, “ had dismissed the female 385 
 ghosts, the ghost of Agamemnon drew near, surrounded by 
 those of the men who had fallen with him in the house of 
 ^gisthus. He was weeping bitterly, and I asked him how he 
 met his end; whereon he detailed to me the treachery of 
 Clytemnestra, which he said threw disgrace upon all women 
 even on the good ones. ‘ Be sure,’ he continued, ‘ that you 433 
 never be too open with your wife; tell her a part only, and 
 keep the rest to yourself. Not that you need have any fear 
 about Penelope for she is an admirable woman. You will 
 
 E 2 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 
 LIBRARY 
 
52 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 449 meet your son, too, who by this time must be a grown man. 
 Nevertheless, do not let people know when you are coming 
 home, but steal a march upon them. And now give me what 
 news you can about my son Orestes.’ To which I answered 
 that I could tell him nothing. 
 
 465 “ While we were thus holding sad talk with one another, 
 
 the ghost of Achilles came up and asked me for news of his 
 father Peleus, and of his son. I said I could tell him Dothing 
 about Peleus, but his son Neoptolemus was with me in the 
 wooden horse, and though all the others were trembling in 
 every limb and wiping the tears from their cheeks, Neoptole¬ 
 mus did not even turn pale, nor shed a single tear. Whereon 
 Achilles strode away over a meadow full of asphodel, exulting 
 in the prowess of his son. 
 
 641 “ Other ghosts then came up and spoke with me but that 
 
 of Ajax alone held aloof, for he was still brooding over the 
 armour of Achilles which had been awarded to me and not to 
 him. I spoke to him but he would not answer ; nevertheless 
 I should have gone on talking to him till he did, had I not 
 been anxious to see yet other ghosts. 
 
 568 “ I saw Minos with his golden sceptre passing sentence on 
 
 the dead; Orion also, driving before him over a meadow full 
 of asphodel the ghosts of the wild beasts whom he had slain 
 upon the mountains. I saw Tityus with the vulture ever 
 digging its beak into his liver, Tantalus also, in a lake whose 
 waters reached his neck but fled him when he would drink, 
 and Sisyphus rolling his mighty stone uphill till the sweat ran 
 off him and the steam rose from him. 
 
 601 “ Then I saw mighty Hercules. The ghosts were screaming 
 
 round him like scared birds, flying all whithers. He looked 
 black as night with his bare bow in his hand and his arrow on 
 the string, glaring round as though ever on the point of taking 
 aim. About his breast there was a wondrous golden belt 
 marvellously enriched with bears, wild boars, and lions with 
 gleaming eyes ; there were also war, battle, and death. 
 
 030 “ And I should have seen yet others of the great dead had 
 
 not the ghosts come about me in so many thousands that I 
 feared Proserpine might send up the Gorgon’s head. I there- 
 
STORY OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 53 
 
 fore bade my men make all speed back to their ship; so they 
 hastened on board and we rowed out on to the waters of 
 Oceanus, where before long we fell in with a fair wind. 
 
 BOOK XII. 
 
 The, Sirens—Scylla and Charybdis—the cattle of the Sun, 
 
 “ As soon as we were clear of the river Oceanus, we got out 
 into the open and reached the jEaean island, where there is 
 dawn and sunrise. There we landed, camped down upon the 
 beach, and waited till morning came. At daybreak I sent my 
 men to fetch the body of Elpenor, which we burned and buried. 
 We built a barrow over him, and in it we fixed the oar with 
 which he had been used to row. 
 
 “ When Circe heard that we had returned, she came down 16 
 with her maids, bringing bread and wine. ‘ To-day,’ she said, 
 
 ‘ eat and drink, and to-morrow go on your way.’ 
 
 “We agreed to this, and feasted the live-long day to the 28 
 going down of the sun, but at nightfall Circe took me aside, 
 and told me of the voyage that was before us. ‘You will first,’ 
 said she, ‘ come to the island of the two Sirens, who sit in a 
 field of fiowers, and warble all who draw near them to death 
 with the sweetness of their song. Dead men’s bones are lying 
 strewn all round them; still, if you would hear them, you can 
 stop your men’s ears with wax and bid them bind you to a 
 cross-plank on the mast. 
 
 “ ‘As regards the next point that you will reach 1 can give 55 
 you no definite instructions as to which of two courses you must 
 take. You must do the best you can. I can only put the 
 alternatives before you. I refer to the clilfs which the gods 
 call “ the wanderers,” and which close in on anything that 
 would pass through them—even upon the doves that are 
 bringing ambrosia to Father Jove. The sea moreover is 
 strewn with wreckage from ships which the waves and 
 hurricanes of fire have destroyed. 
 
54 THE authohess oe the odyssey, 
 
 73 “ ‘Of the two rocks,* the one rises in a peak to heaven, and 
 
 is overhung at all times with a dark cloud that„never leaves it. 
 It looks towards the West, and there is a cave in it, higher 
 than an arrow can reach. In this sits Scylla yelping with a 
 squeaky voice like that of a young hound, hut she is an awful 
 monster with six long necks and six heads with three rows of 
 teeth in each; whenever a ship passes, she springs out and 
 snatches up a man in each mouth. 
 
 101 “‘The other rock is lower, hut they are so close that you 
 can shoot an arrow from the one to the other, [On it there is 
 103 a fig-tree in full leafj.f Underneath it is the terrible whirl¬ 
 pool of Charyhdis, which sucks the water down and vomits it 
 out again three times a day. If you are there when she is 
 sucking, not even Neptune can save you; so hug the Scylla 
 side, for you had better lose six men than your whole crew. 
 
 127 ‘You will then arrive at the Thrinacian island, where you 
 will see the cattle of the Sun (and also his sheep) in charge of^^ 
 132 the two nymphs Lampetie and Phaethusa. If you leave these 
 flocks unharmed, after much trouble yqu will yet reach Ithaca; 
 but if you harm them, you will lose your men, and though you 
 may get home after all, it will be late,’ 
 
 142 “Here she ended, and at break of day we set out, with a 
 fair wind which Circe sent us. I then told rny men about the 
 two Sirens, but had hardly done so before we were at the island 
 itself, whereon it fell a dead calm. I kneaded wax and 
 stopped the men’s ears; they bound me to a cross-plank on 
 the mast; I heard the Sirens sing, and when I struggled to 
 free myself they bound me still tighter. So we passed the 
 island by. 
 
 201 “ Shortly after this I saw smoke and a great wave ahead, 
 
 and heard a dull thumping sound. The sea was in an uproar, 
 and my men were so frightened that they loosed hold of their 
 
 * The want of coherence here is obvions, but as it is repeated when Ulysses ought 
 to come to the wandering cliffs (which he never does) it must be referred to a lacuna 
 not in the text, but in the writer’s sources of information—of which she seems fully 
 aware. 
 
 t I suppose this line to have been added when lines 426—446 of this book were 
 added. 
 
STORY OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 55 
 
 oars, till I put heart into them, bade them row their hardest, 
 and told the steersman to hug the Scylla side. But I said 
 nothing about Scylla, though I kept straining my eyes all over 
 her rock to see if Leonid espy her. 
 
 “ So there we were, with Scylla on the one hand and dread 234 
 Charybdis on the other. We could see the sea seething as in 
 a cauldron, and the black ooze at the bottom with a wall of 
 whirling waters careering round it. While my men were pale 
 with fear at this awful sight, Scylla shot out her long necks 
 and swooped down on six of them.. I could see their poor 
 hands and feet struggling in the air as she bore them aloft, 
 and hear them call out my name in one last despairing cry. 
 This was the most horrid sight that I saw in all my voyages. 
 
 “ Having passed the cliffs,* and Scylla and Charybdis, we 260 
 came to the Thrinacian island, and from my ship I could hear 
 the cattle lowing, and the sheep bleating. Then, remembering 
 the warning that Tiresias and Circe had given me, I bade my 
 men give the island a wide berth.. But Eurylochus was 
 insolent, and sowed disaffection among them, so that I was 
 forced to yield and let them land for the night, after making 
 them swear most solemnly that they would do the cattle no 
 harm. We camped, therefore, on the beach near a stream. 
 
 “ But in the third watch of the night there came up a great 312 
 gale, and in the morning we drew our ship ashore and left her 
 in a large cave wherein the sea nymphs meet and hold their 
 dances. I then called my men together, and again warned them. 
 
 “ It blew a gale from the South for a whole month, except 325 
 when the wind shifted to the East, and there was no other 
 wind save only South and East. As long as the corn and wine 
 which Circe had given us held out, my men kept their word, 
 but after a time they began to feel the pangs of hunger, and I 
 went apart to pray heaven to take compassion upon us. I 
 washed my hands and prayed, and when I, had done so, I fell 
 asleep. 
 
 * The wandering cliffs are certainly intended, for when Ulysses is recapitulat¬ 
 ing his adventures in Book xxiii. he expressly mentions having reached the -TrXotyKTtis 
 'iTBTpa^, just after the Sirens, and before Scylla and Charybdis (xsih- 327). The writer 
 determined to have them in her story however little she may know about them. 
 
5G 
 
 THE AlTTHORESg OF THE ODASSEY* 
 
 339 ^ “ Meanwhile Eurylochiis set my men on to disobey me, and 
 they drove in some of the cattle and killed them* When I 
 woke, and had got nearly back to the ship, I began to smell 
 roast moat and knew full well what had happened. 
 
 374 The nymph Lampetie went immediately and told the Sim 
 what my men had done. He was furious, and threatened Jove 
 that if he was not revenged he would never shine in heaven 
 again but would go down and give his light among the dead. 
 
 All day long,’ said he, ‘ whether I was going up heaven or 
 down, there was nothing I so dearly loved to look upon as 
 those cattle.’ 
 
 385 “ Jove told him he would wreck our ship as soon as it was 
 
 well away from land, and the Sun said no more. I know all 
 this because Calypso told me, and she had it from Mercury. 
 
 3^)7 My men feasted six days—alarmed by the most awful 
 prodigies ; for the skins of the cattle kept walking about, and 
 the joints of meat lowed while they were being roasted. On 
 the seventh day the wind drojiped and we got away from the 
 island, but as soon as we were out of sight of land a sudden 
 s(|uall sprang up, during which Jove struck our ship with his 
 thunderbolts and broke it up. All my men were drowned, and 
 so too should I have been, had I not made myself a raft by 
 lashing the mast (which I found floating about) and the ship’s 
 keel together. 
 
 426 [“The wind, which during the squall came from the West, 
 now changed to the South, and blew all night, so that by 
 morning I was back between Scylla and Charybdis again. My 
 raft got carried down the whirlpool, but I clung on to the 
 boughs of the fig tree, for a weary weary while, during which 
 I felt as imjjatient as a magistrate who is detained in court by 
 troublesome cases when he wants to get home to dinner. But 
 in the course of time my raft worked its way out again, and 
 when it was underneath me I dropped on to it and was carried 
 out of the pool. Happily for me Jove did not let Scylla see 
 me.]* ' 
 
 447 “ Thence I was born along for nine days in the sea, and was 
 
 * I incline to think that these lines are an after thought, added by the writer herself. 
 
STOEY OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 57 
 
 talven to tlie Ogygian island of Calypso. I told you about tliis 
 yesterday and will not repeat it, for I bate saying the same 
 thing twice over,” 
 
 BOOK XIII. 
 
 Ulysses is taken hack to Ithaca by the Phceacians. 
 
 Thus did Ulysses speak, and Alcinous immediately proposed 
 that they should make him still further presents. The expence, 
 however, of these, he said, should be borne by a levy or rate 
 upon the public at large. The guests assented, and then went 
 home to bed. 
 
 Next morning they brought their presents of hardware 18 
 down to the ship, and Alcinous saw them so stowed that they 
 should not incommode the rowers. There was then a second 
 banquet at Alcinous’s house, but Ulysses kept looking at the 
 sun all the time, longing for it to set that he might start on 
 his way. At last he rose and addressed the Phgeacians ; after 
 thanking them, he concluded by saying that he hoped he should 
 find his wife on his return living among her friends in peace 43 
 and quietness,^ and that the Phjuacians would continue to give 
 satisfaction to their wives and children. He also bade farewell 
 to Arete, and wished her all happiness with her children, her 
 people, and with King Alcinous. 
 
 When Ulysses reached the ship, a rug and sail were spread 73 
 for him, on which he lay down, and immediately fell into a 
 deep sleep—so deep as to resemble death itself. The ship sped 80 
 on her way faster than a falcon’s flight and with the break of 
 day they reached Ithaca, 
 
 Now in Ithaca there is a sheltered harbour in which a ship 96 
 can ride without being even moored. At the head of this there 
 is a large olive tree, near which there is a cave sacred to the 
 Naiads, where you may find their cups and amphorge of stone, 
 and the stone looms whereon they weave their robes of sea- 
 purple—very curious. The wild bees, too, build their nests in 
 it. There is water in it all the year round, and it has two 
 entrances, one looking North, by which mortals can go down 
 
 * avv dpTifjiiiarai (piXoLatv, 
 
58 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 into the cave, and the other towards the South, but men cannot 
 enter by it—it is the way taken by gods. 
 
 112 The sailors knew this harbour, and took the ship into it. 
 They were rowing so hard that they ran half her length on 
 to the shore, and when they had got out of her they took 
 Ulysses off, still fast asleep on his rug and sail, and laid him 
 down on the ground. Hard by him they also laid all the 
 presents the Phseacians had made him ; tliey left them by the 
 roots of the olive tree,_ a little out of the path, that no passer 
 by might steal them, and then went back to Scheria. 
 
 125 Neptune now saw what the Phaeacians had done, and went 
 to consult Jove how he should be revenged. It was arranged 
 that he should go to Scheria, turn the ship into stone just as it 
 163 was coming into port, and root it in the sea. So he did this, 
 and the Phaeacians said, “ Alack, who has rooted the ship in 
 the sea just as it was coming in ? We could see all of it a 
 minute ago.” 
 
 171 Then Alcinous told them how Neptune had long ago 
 threatened to do this to some Phseacian ship on its return 
 from giving an escort, and also to bury their city under a high 
 mountain as a punishment for giving escorts so freely. The 
 Ph^eacians, therefore, made ready great sacrifices to Neptune, 
 that he might have mercy upon them. 
 
 185 While they were thus standing round the altar of the god, 
 Ulysses woke in his own land, but he had been away so long 
 that he did not know it. Minerva, too, had shed a thick mist 
 round him so that he might remain unseen while she told him 
 bow things were going on ; for she did not want his wife or 
 anyone else to know of his return until he had taken his 
 revenge upon the suitors. Therefore she made everything look 
 strange to him—the long straight paths, the harbours with 
 their shipping, the steep precipices, and the trees., 
 
 197 Ulysses now stood up and wondered where he was. He did 
 not believe he was in Ithaca and complained bitterly of the 
 Phasacians for having brought him wrong. Then he counted 
 all the tripods, cauldrons, gold, and raiment, that they had 
 given him, to see if he had been robbed ; but everything was 
 there, and he was in dismay as to what he should do with theiHv 
 
59 
 
 STORY OF THE ODYSSEY, 
 
 As lie was tlius in doubt Minerva came up to him diguised as 
 a young shepherd, so he asked her what country he was in, 
 and she answered that he was in Ithaca. 
 
 Ulysses said he had heard that there was such a place ; he 256 
 told Minerva a long lying story as to how he had come to be 
 where she saw him, and on this the goddess assumed the form 
 of a woman, fair, stately, and wise, and laughed at him for not 
 knowing her. Ulysses answered that she was not an easy 
 person to recognise for she was continually changing her 
 appearance. Moreover, though she had been very good to him 
 at Troy, she had left him in the lurch ever since, until she had 
 taken him into the city of the Phteacians, “ Do not,” he said, 
 “deceive me any further, but tell me whether or no this is 
 really Ithaca.” 
 
 “ You are always cunning and suspicious,” replied the 329 
 goddess, “ and that is why I cannot find it in my heart to 
 leave you. Any one else on returning from a long voyage 
 would at once have gone up to his house to see his wife and 
 children, but you do not seem to care about knowing anything 
 about them, and only think of testing your wife’s fidelity. As 
 for my having left you in the lurch, I knew all the time that 339 
 you would get home safely in the end, and I did not want to 
 quarrel with my uncle Neptune. I will now prove to you that 
 you are in Ithaca—Here is the harbour of the old merman 345 
 Phorcys, with the large olive tree at the head of it; near it is 
 the cave which is sacred to the Naiads ; here, again, is the 347 
 overarching cavern in which you have sacrificed many a 349 
 hecatomb to the nymphs, and this is the wooded mountain of 
 Neritum.” 35 1 
 
 The goddess then dispersed the mist and let the prospect 352 
 be seen. Ulysses was thus convinced, and Minerva helped him 
 to hide the treasure which the Pheeacians had given him, by 
 concealing it in the cave. Having done this she bade Ulysses 
 consider how he should kill the wicked suitors. “ They have 
 been lording it,” she said, “ in your house this three years,^ 
 
 * Minerva, in her desire to minimise the time during which the suitors had been at 
 Ulysses’ house, seems to have forgotten that they had been there ever since Telema- 
 chus was quite a child {Od. ii. 312-14). 
 
60 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 paying court to your wife and making her gifts of wooing, 
 
 380 while she, poor woman, though she flatters them, and holds out 
 hopes to every man of them by sending him messages, is really 
 plunged in the deepest grief on your account, and does not 
 mean a word of what she says.” 
 
 382 “ Great heavens,” replied Ulysses, “ what a narrow escape 
 
 I have had from meeting the fate of Agamemnon. Stand by 
 me, goddess, and advise me how 1 shall be revenged.” 
 
 397 “ I will disguise you,” said Minerva, “ as a miserable old 
 
 beggar so that no one shall know you. When I have done so, 
 go to your swineherd, who has been always loyal to yon and 
 yours. You will find him with his pigs by the fountain 
 Arethusa near the rock that is called Raven. Meantime I will 
 go to Sparta and fetch Telemachus, who is gone thither to try 
 and get news of you.” 
 
 416 “But why,” Ulysses answered, “did you not tell him, for 
 you knew all about it ? ” 
 
 420 “ Do not be uneasy about him,” she answered, “he is in the 
 
 midst of great abundance. I sent him, that he might get 
 himself a good name by having gone.” 
 
 429 Minerva then disguised Ulysses beyond all possible recog¬ 
 nition, and the two separated—she going to *Sparta, and 
 Ulysses to the abode of his swineherd. 
 
 BOOK XIY. 
 
 Ulysses in the hut of Eumoeus. 
 
 Ulysses followed a steep path that led from the harbour 
 through the forest and over the top of the mountain, till he 
 reached the hut of Eum 83 Us, who was the most thrifty servant 
 he had, and had built a number of fine yards and pigstyes 
 during his master’s absence. 
 
 5 Ulysses found him sitting at the door of his hut, which had 
 been built high up in a place that could been seen from far ; 
 he had his four fierce dogs about him, and was cutting himself 
 out a pair of sandal shoes. 
 
 29 The dogs flew at Ulysses, and it was all Eumaeus could do 
 to check them ; “ They were like,” said he, “ to have made an 
 
STORY OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 61 
 
 end of yon, which would have got me into a scrape, and I am 
 in sorrow enough already through the loss, which I deplore 
 witliont ceasing, of the best of masters. But come in, have 
 something to eat, and then tell me yonr story.” 
 
 On this he brought him inside, threw some brushwood on 48 
 the floor, and spread a goat’s skin over it for Ulysses to lie on. 
 
 “ I cannot do much for you,” he said; “ servants go in fear 
 when they have young lords over them, as I now have, for my 
 good old master went to Troy with Agamemnon and I shall 
 never see him again.” 
 
 He then went out and killed two sucking pigs, singed them, 72 
 cut them up, put the pieces of meat on skewers to roast on the 
 embers, and brought them smoking hot, skewers and all, to 
 Ulysses, who floured them. “ Eat,” said the swineherd, “ a 
 dish of servant’s pork ; the fuller grown meat has to go down 
 to the suitors.” He then explained how rich Ulysses was.. 
 
 “And who, pray,” said Ulysses, “ was this noble master of 115 
 yours ? You say that he fell at Troy, and in that case I might 
 be able to give you news of him.” 
 
 “That,” answered Eumegus, “may not be: people are 121 
 always coming and flattering my poor mistress with false 
 hopes, but they are all liars. My master Ulysses is dead and 
 gone, and I shall never see another like him. 1 cannot bear 
 even to mention his name.” 
 
 “ My friend,” replied Ulysses, “ do not be too hard of belief. 148 
 I swear by this hearth to which I am now come, that Ulysses 
 will return before the present month is over. * If he comes you 
 shall give me a shirt and cloak, but I will take nothing till 
 then.” 
 
 “ My friend,” said Eumgeus, “ say not another word. You 165 
 will never get your shirt and cloak. Now, moreover, I am as 
 anxious about his son Telemachus as I have been about Ulysses 
 himself; for he is gone to Pylos, and the suitors are lying in 
 wait for him on his return. Let us, however, say no more 
 about him now; tell me, rather, about yourself who you are, 
 and how you came here.” 
 
 Then Ulysses told him a long lying story about his adven- i9i 
 tures in Crete ; how he was compelled to go to Troy in joint 
 
62 
 
 THE AUTHORESS GfF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 command with Idomeneus over the Cretan forces ; how he 
 made a descent on Egypt, got taken prisoner, acquired wealth, 
 and afterwards was inveigled into going to Libya ; how on the 
 voyage thither, after leaving Crete, the ship was wrecked and 
 he was cast on the coast of Thesprotia. “ Here it was,” he 
 continued, “ that I heard of Ulysses from King Pheidon, who 
 was expecting him back daily from Dodona, where he had 
 been to consult the oracle; he told me Ulysses was to return 
 to Ithaca immediately, but there was a ship bound for Dulichium, 
 and the king sent me on board it before Ulysses returned from 
 Dodona. The sailors on this ship resolved to sell me as a 
 slave, and bound me ; but they landed on the coast of Ithaca, 
 where I gave them the slip, and found my way to your hut.” 
 
 360 “ Poor man,” answered the swineherd, “ but you will never 
 
 get me to believe about Ulysses. Why should you tell me 
 such lies ? I have heard these stories too often, and will never 
 believe them again.” 
 
 390 Ulysses tried still further to convince him, but it was no 
 use, and presently the under swineherds came back with the 
 pigs that had been out feeding, and Eumaous told them to kill 
 the best pig they had, and get supper ready, which they 
 accordingly did. He was a good man and mindful of his 
 duties to the gods, so when the pig was killed he threw some 
 of its bristles into the fire and prayed heaven for the return of 
 Ulysses. Then they supped and went to bed. 
 
 457 Kow it was a wild rough night, and after they had lain 
 down, Ulysses, fearing that he might be cold, told another 
 lying story of an adventure he had had at Troy in company 
 with Ulysses, by means of which Eumjeus was induced to 
 cover him over with a spare cloak of his own. Then the 
 swineherd went out to pass the night with the pigs—and 
 Ulysses was pleased at seeing how well he looked after his 
 property, though he believed his master to be absent. First 
 he slung his sword over his shoulders, and put on a thick cloak 
 to keep out the wind ; he also took the skin of a well-fed goat, 
 and a javelin in case of attack from men or dogs. Thus equipped 
 he went to his rest where the pigs were camped under an over¬ 
 hanging rock that sheltered them from the North Wind. 
 
STORY OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 63 
 
 BOOK XY. 
 
 Telemachus returns from Fylos^ and on landing goes to the 
 
 hut of Eumoeus. 
 
 Minerva now went to Lacedgemon and found Telemaclins 
 and Pisistratus fast asleep. She appeared to Telemachus in a 
 dream, and told him that he was to return at once to Ithaca, 
 for his mother was about to marry Eurymachus, and would 17 
 probably go off with some of his property. She also told him 
 how the suitors were lying in wait for him in the straits 
 between Ithaca and Samos. She said that as soon as he 29 
 reached Ithaca he was to leave the ship before sending it on 
 to the town, and go to the swineherd’s hut. “ Sleep there,” 
 she said, “and in the morning send the swineherd to tell 
 Penelope that you have returned safely.” 
 
 Then she went away and Telemachus woke up. He kicked 43 
 Pisistratus to wake him, and said that they must start at 
 once. Pisistratus answered that this was impossible \ it was 
 still dark, and they must say good bye to Menelaus, who, if 
 Telemachus would only wait, would be sure to give them a 
 present. 
 
 At break of day, seeing Menelaus up and about, Telemachus 56 
 flung on his shirt and cloak, and told him that they must go. 
 
 Menelaus said he would not detain them, but on the score 67 
 alike of propriety and economy, they must have something to 
 eat before starting, and also receive the presents that were 
 waiting Telemachus’s acceptance. “ I will tell the servants,’^ 
 said he, “ to get something ready for you of what there may be 
 in the house, and if you would like to make a tour of the 
 principal cities of the Peloponese, I will conduct you. Ho one 
 will send us away empty handed. Every one will give us 
 something.” 
 
 But Telemachus said he must start at once, for he had left 86 
 property behind him that was insecurely guarded. 
 
 When Menelaus heard this he told his wife and servants to 92 
 get dinner ready at once. Eteoneus, who lived at no great 
 distance, now came up, and Menelaus told him to light the fire 
 and begin cooking ; and he did as he was told. 
 
64 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 99 Menelans then went down into his store room together with 
 'Megajoenthes, and brought up a double cup and a silver mixing 
 bowl, while Helen fetched a dress of wondrous beauty, the 
 work of her own hands. Menelans presented the cup and 
 125 mixing bowl, and then Helen said, “ Take this, my son, as a 
 keepsake from the hand of Helen, and let your bride wear it 
 on her wedding day. Till then let your dear mother keep it 
 for yon. Thus may you go on your way with a light heart.” 
 130 Telemachns thanked her; Pisistratns stowed the presents 
 in the chariot, and they all sat down to dinner. Eteonens 
 carved, and Megapenthes served round the wine. When they 
 had done eating the two young men prepared to set out. 
 
 As they were on the point of starting, an eagle flew upon 
 their right hand, with a goose in its talons which it had 
 carried off from the farm yard. This omen was so good that 
 every one was delighted to see it, and Pisistratns said, “ Say, 
 king Menelans, is the omen for us or for yourself ? ” 
 
 169 Menelans was in doubt how to answer, but Helen said that 
 as the eagle had come from a mountain and seized the goose, 
 so Ulysses should return and take vengeance on the suitors. 
 Telemachus said he only hoped it might prove so, and the pair 
 then drove on. They reached Pylos on the follo'wing day, and 
 199 Telemachus urged Pisistratns to drive him straight to his ship, 
 for fear Nestor should detain him if he went to his house. 
 
 211 “I know,” said Pisistratns, “how obstinate he is-. He 
 would come down to your ship, if he knew you were there, and 
 would never go back without you. But he will be very angry.” 
 He then drove to the ship, and Telemackus told the crew to 
 get her under way as fast as they could. 
 
 222 Now as he was attending to every thing and sacrificing to 
 Minerva, there came to him a man of the race of Melampus 
 who was flying from Argos because he had killed a man. His 
 name was Theoclymenus and he came of an old and highly 
 honourable family, his father and grandfather having been 
 celebrated prophets and divines. He besought Telemachus to 
 take him to Ithaca and thus save him from enemies who were 
 in pursuit. Telemachus consented, took Theoclymenus on 
 board, and laid his spear down on the deck. 
 
65 
 
 STORY OF THF ODYSSEY. 
 
 Then they sailed away, and next day they got among the 287 
 flying islands,* whereon Telemachns wondered whether ho 
 should be taken or should escape. 
 
 All this time Ulysses was in the hut with Enniseus, and soi 
 after supper Ulysses said he should like to go down to the 
 town next day, and see if the suitors would take him into their 
 service. Eumseus at once explained to him that any such idea 
 was out of the question. “ You do not know,” he said, “ what 
 men these suitors are; their insolence reaches heaven; the 
 young men who wait on them have good looking faces and 
 well kempt heads ; the tables are always clean and loaded 
 with abundance. The suitors would be the death of you; stay 
 here, then, where you are in nobody’s way, till Telemachns 
 returns from Pylos.” 
 
 Ulysses thanked Eumaeus for his information, and then 340 
 began to ask whether his father and mother were still living; 
 he was told that Anticlea was dead,t and that Laertes, though 
 still alive, would be glad to follow her. Eumgeus said he had 
 been brought up in their service, and was better off formerly, 
 for there was no getting a good word out of his mistress now, 
 inasmuch as the suitors had turned the house upside down. 
 
 “ Servants,” he said, “ like to have a talk with their mistress 
 and hear things from her own lips ; they like being told to eat 
 and drink, and being allowed to take something back with 
 them into the country. This is what will keep servants 
 cheerful and contented.” 
 
 On being further questioned by Ulysses, Eumseus told how 380 
 he had been kidnapped as a child by some Phoenician traders 
 who had seduced his nurse (also a Phoenician) and persuaded 
 her to go away with them, and bring him with her. 
 
 “ I was born,” he said, “ in the island of Syra over against 403 
 Ortygia, where the sun turns.f It is not populous, but con¬ 
 tains two cities which occupy the whole laud between them, 
 and my father was king over them both. A few days after my 
 
 * i.e. which seemed to fly past them. 
 
 t According to tradition, she had hanged herself on hearing a report of the death 
 of her son. 
 
 J See Chapter xn. near the beginning. 
 
6o 
 
 THE AUTHOEESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 ' nurse had kidnapped me, and while we were on our voyage, 
 Diana killed her, and she was flung overboard, but I was taken 
 to Ithaca where Laertes bought me/’ 
 
 493 Ulysses and Eummus spent the greater part of the night 
 talking with one another, and at dawn Telemachus’s crew drew 
 near to land, furled their sails and rowed into the harbour. 
 There they threw out their mooring stones, made their ship 
 fast, landed, and ate their dinner on the shore. When they had 
 done, Telemachus said, “ Now take the ship on to the city; I 
 will go to look after my farm, and will come down in the 
 evening-. Tomorrow morning I will give you all a hearty meal 
 to reward you for your trouble.” 
 
 508 “ But what,” said Theoclymenus, “ is to become of me ? To 
 
 whose house am I to go ? ” 
 
 512 “At any other time,” answered Telemachus, “I should take 
 you to my own house, but you would not find it convenient 
 now, for I shall not be there, and my mother will not see you. 
 1 shall therefore send you to the house of Eurymachus, who is 
 one of the first men we have, and is most eager in his suit for 
 my mother’s hand.” 
 
 525 As he spoke a hawk flew on Telemachus’s right hand, with 
 a dove whose feathers it was plucking while it flew. Theocly¬ 
 menus assured Telemachus that this was an omen which boded 
 most happily for the prosperity of his house. It was then 
 settled that Theoclymenus should go to the house of Pireeus 
 the son of Cl 3 dius. 
 
 547 The crew now loosed the ship from her moorings and went 
 on as they had been told to do, while Telemachus wended his 
 way in all haste to the pig farm where Euimnus lived. 
 
 BOOK xvi. 
 
 Ulysses and Telemachus hecoine known to one another. 
 
 Ulysses and Eumfeus prepared their meal at daybreak. 
 When Telemachus was reaching the hut, Ulysses observed 
 that the dogs did not bark, though he heard footsteps, and 
 90 enquired whether the visitor was some acquaintance of the 
 
STORY OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 67 
 
 swineherd’s. He had hardly done speaking when Telemaclms 
 entered, and was welcomed by Eumeens. 
 
 “ Is my mother still at the house,” said he, “ or has she 33 
 left it with another husband, and the bed of Ulysses is fes¬ 
 tooned with cobwebs ? ” 
 
 “ She is still there,” answered Eumteus, “ spending her 36 
 time in tears both night and day.” 
 
 Eumgeus set refreshments before him and when he had done 49 
 eating he asked who the stranger might be. 
 
 When Telemachus heard that Ulysses was a ship-wrecked 38 
 suppliant he was much displeased. “ I am as yet too young,” 
 he said, “ to be able to hold my own in the house; what 
 sufficient support, then, can I give this man ? Still, as he has 
 come to you I will send him clothes and all necessary food ; 
 and let him stay with you; 1 will not have him go near the 
 suitors, for harm would be sure to come of it.” 
 
 Ulysses expressed his surprise and indignation about the 
 suitors, whereon Telemachus explained still further, and wound 
 up by telling Eumgeus to go at once and inform Penelope of 
 his return. Eumseus asked if he should turn a little out of his 
 way and tell Laertes, but Telemachus said he was not to do so. 
 Penelope would send him word all in due course. 
 
 As soon as Eumgeus was gone Minerva came to the hut. 157 
 Ulysses knew her, and so did the dogs, for they went whining 
 away to the other end of the yards, but Telemachus did not see 
 her. She made a sign to Ulysses that he was to come outside, 
 and when he had done so she told him he was to reveal him¬ 
 self to his son—whereon she struck him with her wand, 
 endowed him with a noble presence, and clothed him in goodly 
 raiment. 
 
 Then he went back into the hut and told his son who HS 
 he was ; but for a long while Telemachus would not believe. 
 
 At last, however, Avhen he was convinced, the pair flung 
 their arms about each other’s necks, and wept like eagles 
 or vultures who had been robbed of their young. Indeed they 
 would have wept till sundown had it not occurred to Telemachus 
 to ask his father in what ship he had come to Ithaca, and 
 whose crew it was that had brought him. 
 
 ^2 
 
68 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 225 Ulysses told him about the Pha3acians, and how he had 
 hidden the presents they had given him. “ I am now come,” 
 he said, “ by Minerva’s advice, to consult with you as to how 
 we shall take vengeance on the suitors. I would therefore 
 learn how many there are of them, and consider whether we 
 two can kill them, or whether we must get help from outside.” 
 
 240 Telemachus said it was hopeless to think of attacking 
 the suitors without assistance. There were fifty-two from 
 Dulichium, with six followers, twenty-four from Same, twenty 
 from Zacynthus, and twelve from Ithaca. 
 
 258 Ulysses explained that he could rely on help from Jove and 
 from Minerva, and thought that this would he enough. “ They 
 will not he long in joining us,” said he, “ when the fight has 
 begun in good earnest. Go, then, tomorrow to the town, and 
 join the suitors; let the swineherd bring me later, disguised as 
 a poor miserable beggar. hTever mind how much violence you 
 may see the suitors do me. Look on and say nothing, beyond 
 asking them in a friendly way to leave me alone. Also, find 
 some pretext for removing the armour from the walls. Say it 
 is taking harm with the smoke, and that the sight of armour 
 sometimes sets men fighting, so that it is better away—but 
 
 295 leave two swords, shields and spears for you and me to snatch 
 up.” 
 
 321 As they were thus conversing, the ship that had brought 
 Telemachus from Pylos reached the harbour of Ithaca, and the 
 crew took the presents which Menelaus had given him to the 
 house of Clytius. They sent a man to tell Penelope that 
 Telemachus was at the farm, and had sent the ship on to allay 
 her anxiety. This man and the swineherd met at the house of 
 Ulysses, and the man said, in the presence of the maids, 
 “ Madam, your son is returned from Pylos;” but Eumseus stood 
 by her, and told her all that her son had bidden him. Then he 
 went back to his pig-farm. 
 
 342 The suitors were very angry, and were about sending a ship 
 to fetch those wdio had been lying in wait for Telemachus, 
 when Amphinomus, a suitor, happened to turn round and saw 
 their ship coming into harbour. So he laughed and said, “We 
 have no need to send, for the men are here.” On this they all 
 
STORY OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 69 
 
 went to meet the ship, and Antinons said that as Telemachns 
 had escaped them in spite of their great vigilance, they must 
 kill him, either at the farm or as he was coming thence. 
 Otherwise he would expose their plot, and they would have the 
 people rise against them. ‘‘ If,” he concluded, “ this does not 
 please you, and you would let him live, we cannot eat up his 
 estate any longer, but must go home, urge our suit each from 
 his own house, and let the one among us take Penelope who 
 will give most for her, or whose lot it may happen to be.” 
 
 Amphinomus, who came from the well-grassed and grain- 394 
 growing island of Dulichium, then spoke. He was a man of 
 good natural disposition, and his conversation was more 
 pleasing to Penelope than that of any of the other suitors; 
 
 1 will only consent to kill Telemachus,” said he, “ if the gods 
 give us their approval. It is a serious thing to kill a man who 
 is of royal race. If they sanction it, I will be with you; other¬ 
 wise I am for letting it alone.” 
 
 The rest assented, and they went back to the house. But 406 
 Medon told Penelope of this new plot, so she went attended by 
 her gentlewomen, stood by one of the bearing-posts that sup¬ 
 ported the roof of the cloisterand bitterly rebuked Antinous 
 for his ingratitude in forgetting how Ulysses in old days had 
 saved the life of his father Eupeithes. 
 
 Eurymachus then made a fair but false speech vowing 434 
 eternal friendship to Telemachus, and Penelope returned to 
 her own room to mourn her husband till Minerva closed her 
 eyes in slumber. 
 
 In the evening Eumseus got back to his hut just as the 452 
 others had killed a yearling pig and were getting supper ready. 
 Meanwhile Minerva had again disguised Ulysses as an old 
 beggar. 
 
 “ What news from the town, Euma 0 us ? ” said Telemachus. 400 
 “ Have the suitors got back with their ship ? ”’ 
 
 “ I did not ask,” answered Eumaeus, “ for when I had given 464 
 my message I turned straight home; but I met the messenger 
 from your own crew, who told your mother of your return 
 before I could do so. As I was coming here, and was on the 
 hill of Mercury above the town, I saw a ship with many men 
 
70 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 >and mncli armour coming into port ; so I suppose it was tlie 
 suitors, but I cannot be sure,” 
 
 476 Telemachus gave bis father a loot, but so that the swine¬ 
 herd could not see him. Then they all got their supper and 
 went to bed, 
 
 BOOK XVII. 
 
 Telemachus goes to the town, and is folloiced by Tumceus and 
 Ulysses, who is maltreated by the suitors. 
 
 When morning came Telemachus told Eummus that he 
 would now go to the town and show himself to his mother, 
 who would never be comforted till she saw him with her own 
 eyes. “ As for this miserable stranger,” he continued, “ take 
 him to the town, that he may beg there and get what he can; 
 if this does not please him, so much the worse for him, but 1 
 like to say what I mean.” 
 
 16 Ulysses said he should .be glad to go, for a beggar could do 
 much better in town than country; but he must warm himself 
 first, and wait till the sun had got some heat in it; his clothes 
 were very bad, and he should perish with cold, for the town 
 was some way off. 
 
 26 Telemachus then left, and when he reached the house he set 
 his spear against a strong bearing post, crossed the stone pave¬ 
 ment and went inside. He found Euryclea putting the sheep 
 skins on to the seats. She and all the other maids ran up to 
 him as soon as they saw him, and kissed him on the head and 
 shoulders. Then Penelope came weeping from her room, 
 embraced him, and told him to tell her all that he had seen. 
 
 45 Telemachus bade her go back to her room and pray to 
 Minerva that they might be revenged on the suitors. “ I must 
 go,” said he, “ to the place of assembly, to look after a guest 
 whom I have brought with me, and whom I have left with 
 Pirgeus.” 
 
 61 Penelope did as her son had said, while Telemachus went 
 to the place of assembly, and his two dogs with him. The 
 suitors, who had not yet gone to the house of Ulysses for the 
 day, gathered round him, and made him fair speeches, but 
 
STORY OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 71 
 
 lie knew their falsehood and went to sit with his old friends 
 Mentor, Antiphus and Halitherses. Presently Piraeus came 
 np, bringing Theoclymeniis with him, and said, “I wish you 
 would send some of your women to my house to take away the 
 presents that Menelaus gave you.” 
 
 Telemachus said he did not know what might happen; if 77 
 the suitors killed him, he had rather Piraeus kept the presents 
 than that the suitors should have them. If, on the other hand, 
 he killed the suitors he should be much obliged if Piraeus 
 would let him have the presents. 
 
 Then he took Theoclymeniis to his own house, where they 84 
 had a bath, and refreshments were set before them. Penelope 
 sat near them, spinning, while they were at table, and then 
 said she should go up stairs and lie down on that couch which 
 she had never ceased to water with her tears from the day her 
 husband left her, “ But you had not the patience,” she added, 
 
 “to tell me, before the suitors came, whether you had been 
 able to hear anything about your father,” 
 
 Telemachus told her how good Nestor had been to him, and 107 
 how he had sent him on to Menelaus, who had assured him 
 that Ulysses was still alive, but was detained by Calypso, from 
 whom he could not get away for want of a ship. Penelope was 
 very much agitated, but Theoclymenus reassured her by telling 
 her about the omen which had greeted Telemachus on his 
 return to Ithaca. 
 
 While they were thus conversing, the suitors were playing lee 
 at quoits and aiming javelins at a mark on the level ground in 
 front of Ulysses’ house. But when it was near dinner time 
 and the flocks were coming in from all the country round with 
 their shepherds as usual [to be milked], Medon, who was a 
 great favourite with the suitors, called them to come in and set 
 about getting their dinner ready. They therefore came in and 
 began to butcher some sheep, goats, pigs, and a heifer. 
 
 Meanwhile Eumasus told Ulvsses that it was time to make 182 
 
 tf 
 
 a start, for the day was well up and if he waited till afternoon 
 he would find the cold more severe. “At any rate,” said 
 Ulysses, “ let me have a staff if you have one, for the path is 
 rugged.” Eummus gave him one, and they set out along the 
 
72 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 steep path leading to the town. When they were nearly there 
 they came to the fountain which Ithacus, Neritiis, and Polyctor 
 had made, and from which the people drew their water ; here 
 they fell in with Melantheus* son of Dolius, who was bringing 
 goats for the suitors’ dinner, he and his two under shepherds. 
 
 215 Melanthius heaped all kinds of insult on Ulysses and 
 Eumaeus, and tried to kick Ulysses off the path, but could not 
 do so. Ulysses restrained himself, and prayed to the nymphs, 
 whereon Melanthius said he would put him on board ship and 
 sell him in some foreign country. He then hurried on, leaving 
 the swineherd and his master to follow at their own pace. 
 
 260 When they got near the house they could hear the sound of 
 Phemius’s lyre, and his voice as he sang to the suitors. They 
 could also smell the savour of roast meats.f Eumasus said 
 that he would go in first, but that Ulysses had better follow 
 him soon, for if he was seen standing about in the outer court 
 people might throw things at him. 
 
 290 As they were thus talking the old hound Argus who was 
 lying on the dunghill, very full of fleas, caught sight of 
 Ulysses, recognised him, wagged his tail, and tried to come to 
 him, but could not do so. Thereon Ulysses wiped a tear from 
 his eyes, and asked Eumaeus whether the dog was of any 
 use, or whether he was kept only for his good looks. Eummus 
 said what a noble hound Argus had been, but the dog, having 
 seen his master, died just as Eumaeus went inside the house. 
 
 328 Telemachus saw him enter and beckoned him to a seat at 
 his own table. Ulysses followed him shortly, and sat down on 
 the floor of ash wood inside the door way, leaning against a 
 bearing-post of well-squared Cyprus wood. Telemachus noted 
 him and said to Eumaeus, “ Take the stranger this handful of 
 bread and meat, tell him also to go round and beg from the 
 others, for a beggar must not be shamefaced.” Eummus gave 
 him both the message and the bread and meat. 
 
 360 Then Ulysses began to go round begging, for he wanted to 
 exploit the suitors. He went from, left to right, and some took 
 
 * In almost all other places he is called Melanthins. 
 
 t All this might very well be, if the scene is laid in an open court, but hardly if 4 
 Tras in a hall inside a house. 
 
BTOHY Of THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 . k 
 
 73 
 
 compassion on him while others began asking who he might 
 he; Melanthius then said that he had come with the swine¬ 
 herd. Antinous, therefore, asked Enmgens what he meant by 
 bringing such a man to plague them. 
 
 “ I did not ask him to come,” answered Eum^eus. “ Who 380 
 was likely to ask a man of that sort ? One would ask a divine, 
 a 23hysician, a carpenter, or a bard. You are always hardest 
 of all the suitors on Ulysses’ servants, and especially upon me, 
 but I do not care so long as I have Peneloj^e and Telemachus 
 on my side.” 
 
 “ Hush,” said Telemachus, “ Antinous has the bitterest 392 
 tongue of them all, and he makes the others worse.” Then he 
 turned towards Antinous and said, “ Give him something: I do 
 not grudge it. Never mind my mother or any of the servants 
 —not you—but you are fonder of eating than of giving.” 
 
 Antinous said, “ You are a swaggering U 2 )start; if all the 405 
 suitors will give him as much as I will, he will not come 
 near the house again this three months.” 
 
 As he s 2 )oke he menaced Ulysses with the footstool from 409 
 under his table. The other suitors all gave him something; 
 and he was about to leave, when he determined to again beg 
 from Antinous and trumped him up a story of the misfortunes 
 that had befallen him in Egypt. 
 
 “ Get out,” said Antinous, “ into the open 2 )art of the court,* 445 
 and away from my table, or I will give you Egyjot over again.” 
 
 Ulysses drew back, and said, “ Your looks are better than 453 
 your understanding. I can see that if you were in your own 
 house you would not spare a poor man so much as a pinch of salt.” 
 
 Antinous scowled at him. ‘‘ Take that,” he cried, “ and be 458 
 off out of the court.” As he spoke he threw a footstool at him 
 which hit him on the right shoulder, but Ulysses stood firm as 
 a rock, and prayed that if there was a god, or an avenger of 
 beggars, Antinous might be a corpse before he was a bride¬ 
 groom, 
 
 “ Have a care,” replied Antinous, ‘\and hold your peace, or 477 
 we will flay you alive.” 
 
 * £s fxiccov (line 447), 
 
74 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 481 The others reproved Antinons. “ You did ill,” they said? 
 “ to strike the man. Who knows but he may be one of the 
 gods who go about the world in disguise to redress wrong, and 
 chastise the insolence of mankind ? ” 
 
 492 Penelope from her room upstairs heard what had been 
 goiug on, and spoke with her women bitterly about the suitors. 
 The housekeeper Eurynome answered that if her prayers were 
 heard, not a single one of them would live till morning. 
 “Nurse,”.replied Penelope, “I hate them all, but Antinous is 
 the worst.” Then she sent for Eumseus and said, “ Tell the 
 stranger that 1 want to see him; he looks like a man who has 
 travelled, and he may have seen or heard something of Ulysses.” 
 
 515 “He has been three days and three nights at my hut. 
 Madam,” replied Eum^eus, “ and the most accomplished bard 
 could not have given me better entertainment. He told me 
 that Ulysses was among the Thesprotians and would return 
 shortly, bringing much treasure with him.” 
 
 528 “Then call him to me,” said Penelope, “and as for the 
 others, let them dine at their own expense for the future or 
 how they best may, so long as they leave off coming here.” 
 
 541 Telemachus, who was down below, gave a great sneeze as 
 she spoke, which echoed over the whole house. Penelope 
 explained to Eum^eus that this was a most favourable omen, 
 and added that if she was satisfied of the truth of what the 
 stranger told her she would give him a shirt and cloak. 
 
 551 Eumseus gave Penelope’s message to Ulysses, but he feared 
 the violence of the suitors, and told him to say that she must 
 wait till nightfall, when the suitors would be gone. “ Then,” 
 he said, “ let her set me down in a warm seat by the fire, and 
 I will tell her about her husband; for my clothes are in a very 
 bad state; you know they are, for your’s was the first house I 
 came to.” 
 
 574 Penelope was displeased at his delay, and asked Eumfeus 
 whether his fears were reasonable, or whether it was only that 
 he was shamefaced. Eumgeus explained that he was quite 
 reasonable, whereon Penelope was satisfied; he then went 
 back to where the suitors were, and told Telemachus that 
 he would return to his pigs. 
 
STORY OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 75 
 
 Telernaclins said that he had better get something to eat 598 
 first, and was to come back to the town on the following 
 morning, bringing the pigs that were to be killed for dinner. 
 
 It was now afternoon, and the suitors had turned to their 
 singing and dancing. 
 
 BOOK XYIII. 
 
 The fight between Ulysses and Inis—The suitors make ^presents 
 to Penelope- . and ill-treat Ulysses. 
 
 Now there came a common tramp to Ulysses’ house, 
 begging—a great hulking fellow with no stay in him—whose 
 name was Arnsens ; but people called him Irns, because he 
 would run errands for any one who would send him on them. 
 This man began to threaten Ulysses, and said the suitors had 
 urged him to turn him away from the house. 
 
 Ulysses said there was room enough for both of them, and 14 
 that it should be a case of live-and-let-live between them. 
 
 “ If, however,” he continued, “ it comes to blows, I wdl deluge 
 your mouth and chest with blood, and I shall have the place 
 to myself, for you will not come back again.” 
 
 Irns retorted angrily, and Antinons, hearing them wrangle, 34 
 told the other suitors that Irns and the stranger were about to 
 have a fight. “ It is the finest piece of sport,” he said, “ that 
 heaven ever sent into this house. We are to have goat’s 
 paunches stuffed with blood and fat for supper ; whichever of 
 the two beats in this fight shall have his pick of the lot of 
 them.” 
 
 The preliminaries being arranged, and fair play bargained 58 
 for by Ulysses, he began to strip. When Irns saw his muscles 
 his heart misgave him ; but Antinons kept him up to it, and 
 the fight began. Ulysses forthwith nearly killed Irns and 
 dragged him by the heels into the outer court, where he put 
 his staff in his hand and propped him up against the wall 
 more dead than alive. Antinons then gave Ulysses a great 
 goat’s paunch, and Amphinomus drank his health. 
 
 * They might very well fight io the middle of an open court, but hardly in a 
 covered hall. They would go outside. 
 
76 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 124 ' Ulysses made Amphinomus a very grave and impressive 
 speech, warning him to leave the house, inasmuch as Ulysses 
 would return shortly. “ You seem,” said he, “ to he a man of 
 good understanding, as indeed you may well he, seeing whose 
 son you are. I have heard your father well spoken of; he is 
 Nisus of Dulichium, a man both brave and wealthy. They 
 tell me you are his son and you seem to be a considerable 
 person; listen, therefore, and take heed to what I am saying. 
 Man is the vainest of all creatures that live and move upon the 
 earth: as long as heaven vouchsafes him health and strength 
 he thinks that he shall come to no harm hereafter, and even 
 when the blessed gods bring sorrow upon him, he bears it as 
 he needs must and makes the best of it, for God Almighty 
 gives men their daily minds day by day. I know all about it, 
 for I was a rich man once, and did much wrong in the 
 stubbornness of my pride and in the confidence that niy father 
 and my brothers would support me ; therefore let a man fear 
 God in all things always, and take the good that heaven may 
 see fit to send him without vainglory.” 'But Amphinomus, 
 though his heart boded ill, would not be persuaded. 
 
 158 Minerva then put it in Penelope^s mind to get some presents 
 out of the suitors. “ I hate them,” said she to Eurynome, 
 “ but still for once in a way I will see them ; I want to warn 
 my son against them.” 
 
 169 “ Certainly, my dear child,” answered Eurynome, but you 
 
 must wash your face first. You cannot be seen with the stain 
 of tears upon your cheeks.” 
 
 177 “ Eurynome,” replied her mistress, “do not try to persuade 
 
 me. Heaven robbed me of all my beauty on the day when my 
 husband sailed for Troy; but send Autonoe and Hippodamia 
 tq attend me, for I cannot think of seeing the suitors un¬ 
 attended.” The old woman then went through the house to 
 fetch the women; and as soon as she was gone, Minerva sent 
 Penelope into a deep sleep during which she endowed her with 
 the most dazzding beauty, washing her face with the ambrosial 
 loveliness which Venus wears when she goes out dancing with 
 the Graces, and giving her a statelier and more imposing 
 presence. When the two maids came, the noise of their 
 
STORY OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 77 
 
 coming woke lier. “ What a delicious sleep,” she exclaimed, 
 “has overshadowed me. Would that it had been the sleep of 
 death, which had thus ended all my sorrows.” 
 
 She then went down stairs, and the suitors were dazzled 206 
 with her beauty. She began by upbraiding Telemachus for 
 having allowed the fight to take place. Telemachus admitted 
 his fault, but pleaded the extreme difficulty of his situation and 
 the fact that after all Ulysses had thrashed Irus. 
 
 Eurymachus broke in upon their conversation by telling 243 
 Penelope how very beautiful she was; and Penelope answered 
 that heaven had robbed her of all her beauty on the day when 
 her husband sailed for Troy. “ Moreover,” she added, “ I have 
 another great sorrow^—you suitors are not wooing me in the 275 
 usual way. When men are suing for the hand of one who 
 they think will make them a good wife, they generally bring 
 oxen and sheep for her relations to feast upon, and make rich 
 presents to the lady herself, instead of sponging upon other 
 people’s property.” 
 
 When Ulysses heard her say this, he was delighted at 28i 
 seeing his wife trying to get presents out of the suitors, and 
 hoodwinking them. 
 
 Then Antinous said, “ Penelope, take all the presents you 284 
 can get, but we will not go till you have married the best man 
 among us.” On this they all made Penelope magnificent 
 presents, and she went back to her own room, followed by the 
 women, who carried the presents for her. 
 
 The suitors now turned to singing and dancing, lighted by 304 
 large braziers that were placed in the court,^ and also by 307 
 torches, which the maids held up by turns. Ulysses after a 
 while told them to go inside, saying that he would hold the 317 
 torches himself. The maids laughed at this, and Melantho, 
 who was one of them, began to gibe at him. She was 
 daughter to Dolius but Penelope had brought her up from 
 childhood, and used to give her toys ; she showed no considera¬ 
 tion, however, for Penelope’s sorrows, but misconducted herself 
 with Eurymachus. “Are you drunk?” she said to Ulysses, 
 
 “ or are you always like this ? ” 
 
 * iv [XEydpoiaiU, "but not ii> (XEyapoiari aKiosaai, 
 
78 
 
 THS AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 337' Ulysses scowled at her, and said he would tell Telemachus, 
 who would have her cut up into miucemeat. The women, 
 therefore, were frightened and went away, so Ulysses was left 
 holding lip the flaming torches—-looking upon all the suitors 
 and brooding over his revenge. 
 
 346 Presently Eurymachus began to jeer at him, and taunt him 
 by saying- he preferred begging to working. Ulysses answered, 
 “If you and I, Eurymachus, were matched one against the 
 other in early summer, when the days are at their longest— 
 give us each a good scythe, and see whether you or I will mow 
 the stronger or fast the longer, from dawn till dark when the 
 mowing grass is about. Or let us be in a four acre fleld with 
 a couple of tawny full fed oxen each, and see which of us can 
 drive the straighter furrow. Again, let war break out this 
 day—give me armour and you will And me flghting among the 
 foremost. You are insolent and cruel, and think yourself a 
 great man because you live in a little world, and that a bad 
 one.” 
 
 394 Eurymachus was furious, and seized a stool; but Ulysses 
 sat down by the knees of Amphinomus of Unlichium, for he 
 was afraid ; the stool hit the cupbearer and knocked him down, 
 whereon there was a general uproar, amid which Telemachus 
 said that he would compel no man, but he thought it would be 
 better if they would all go home to bed. To this they assented, 
 and shortly afterwards left the house. 
 
 BOOK XIX. 
 
 Ulysses converses with Penelope^ and is recognised by 
 
 Eury elect. 
 
 Ulysses and Telemachus were left alone in the cloister, and 
 Ulysses said, “We must take the armour down from the walls; 
 if the suitors are surprised, say what I told you when we were 
 in Euma3us’s hut.” 
 
 15 Telemachus called Euryclea, and bade her shut the women 
 up in their room, for he was going to take the armour down 
 into the store room. “ Who,” asked Euryclea, “will show you 
 
STORY OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 79 
 
 a light if the women are all shut up ? ” “ The stranger,” 
 
 answered Telemachus ; “ I will not have people doing nothing 
 about my premises.” 
 
 He and Ulysses then began removing the armour, and 31 
 Minerva went before them, shedding a strange lambent light 
 that played on walls and rafters. Telemachus was lost in 
 wonder, but Ulysses said, “ Hush, this is the manner of the 
 gods. Get yon to bed, and leave me to talk with yonr mother 
 and the maids.” So Telemachus crossed the court and went 
 to the room in which he always slept, leaving Ulysses in the 
 cloister. 
 
 Penelope now came down, and they set a seat for her by 53 
 the fire; the maids also were let out, and came to take away 
 the meats on which the suitors had been feasting, and to heap 
 fresh wood upon the braziers after they had emptied the ashes 
 on to the ground.* Melantho again began scolding at Ulysses 
 for stopping in the house to spy on the women. Penelope 
 heard her and said, “ Bold hnssey, I hear you, and you shall 
 smart for it; I have already told you that I wish to see the 
 stranger and enquire from him about my husband. Eurynome, 
 bring a seat for him, and spread a fieece on it.” 
 
 Eurynome did as she was told, and when Ulysses had sat loo 
 down Penelope wanted to know who he was. Ulysses implored 
 her not to ask this, for it would make him weep, and she or 
 the servants might then think he had been drinking. 
 
 “ Stranger,” answered Penelope, “ heaven robbed me of all 123 
 my beauty when the Argives set out for Troy and Ulysses with 
 them.” She then told about the suitors, and her web, and 
 said that she was now at the very end of her resources. Her 
 parents were urging her to marry again, and so also was her 
 son, who chafed under the heavy burden of expense which her 
 long courtship had caused him. “ In spite of all this, how¬ 
 ever,” she continued, “ I want to know who you are ; for you 
 cannot be the son of a rock or of an oak.” 
 
 Thus pressed, Ulysses said that his name was ^Ethon and 164 
 
 * There is no indication as though they went out to do this; they seem to have 
 emptied the ashes on to the open part of the court. 
 
80 
 
 THE AUTHOHESS OF THE ODtSSEY. 
 
 ' that he came from Crete, where he had entertained Ulysses 
 and his men for many days when they were on their way to 
 Troy. Penelope wept bitterly as she listened, and it was all 
 Ulysses could do to restrain his oWn tears—-but he succeeded. 
 “ I will now prove you,” said she ; “ tell me how my husband 
 was dressed. Tell me also what manner of man he was, and 
 about the men who were with him.” 
 
 220 “I will tell you,” replied Ulysses, “as nearly as I can 
 remember after so long a time. He wore a mantle of purple 
 wool, double lined, and it was fastened by a gold brooch with 
 two catches for the pin. On the face of this there was a 
 device that shewed a dog holding a spotted fawn between its 
 fore paws, and watching it as it lay panting on the ground. 
 Every one marvelled at the way in which these things had 
 been done in gold—the dog looking at the fawn and strangling 
 231 it, while the fawn was struggling convulsively to escape. As 
 for his shirt, it fitted him like the skin of an onion, and 
 glistened in the sunlight to the admiration of all the women 
 who beheld it. He had a servant with him, a little older than 
 246 himself, whose shoulders were hunched ; he was dark, and had 
 thick curly hair. His name was Eurybates.” 
 
 249 Penelope was deeply moved. “ You shall want for nothing,” 
 said she, “ It was I who gave him the clothes and the brooch 
 you speak of, but 1 shall never see him again.” 
 
 261 “ Be not too dejected. Madam,” answered Ulysses ; “ when I 
 
 was with the Thespotians I heard for certain that he was alive 
 and well. Indeed he would have been here ere now, had he not 
 deemed it better to amass great wealth before returning. Before 
 this month is out I swear most solemnly that he will be here.” 
 308 “ If you say truly,” replied Penelope, “ you shall indeed be 
 
 rewarded richly, but he will not come. Still, you women, take 
 the stranger and wash him; make him a comfortable bed, and 
 in the morning wash him again and anoint him,' that he may 
 sit at the same table with Telemachus ; if any of the suitors 
 322 molests him, he shall rue it, for fume as he may, he shall have 
 no more to do in this house. How indeed. Sir, can you know 
 how much I surj^ass all other women in goodness and discretion 
 unless I see that vou are well clothed and fed ? ” 
 
STOEY OF ODYSSEY. 
 
 81 
 
 “ Make me no bed, Madam, said Ulysses, “ I will lie on the 336 
 bare ground as I am wont to do. Nor do I like having my feet 
 washed. I will not allow any of your serving women to touch 
 my feet; but if you have any respectable old woman who has 
 gone through as much as I have, I will let her wash them.” 
 
 “ Stranger,” answered Penelope, “ your sense of propriety 349 
 exceeds that of any foreigner who has ever come here. I have 
 exactly the kind of person you describe; she was Ulysses’ 
 nurse from the day of his birth, and is now very old and feeble, 
 but she shall wash your feet. Euryclea, come and wash the 
 stranger’s feet. He is about the same age as- your master 
 would be.” 
 
 Euryclea spoke compassionately to Ulysses, and ended by 36 1 
 saying that he was very like her master. To which Ulysses- 
 replied that many other people had observed the likeness.- 
 
 Then the old woman got a large foot bath and put some 386 
 cold water into it, adding hot water until it was the right 
 heat. As soon, however, as she got Ulysses’ leg in her hands, 
 she recognised a scar on it as one which her master had got 
 from being ripped by a boar when he was hunting on 
 Mt. Parnassus with his mother’s father Autolycus, whom 394 
 Mercury had endowed with the gift of being the most accom¬ 
 plished thief and perjurer in the whole wmrld, for he was 
 ver}" fond of him. She immediately dropped the leg, which 4G8 
 made a loud noise against the side of the bath and upset all 
 the water. Her eyes filled with tears, and she caught Ulysses 
 by the beard and told him that she knew him. 
 
 She looked towards Penelope to tell her ; but Minerva 476 
 had directed Penelope’s attention elsewhere, so that she had 
 observed nothing of what had been going on. Ulysses gripped 
 Euryclea’s throat, and swore he would kill her, nurse to him 
 though she had been, unless she kept his return secret—which 
 she promised to do. She also said that if heaven delivered the 
 suitors into his hands, she would give him a list of all tlie 
 women in the house who had misconducted themselves. 
 
 “ You have no need,” said Ulysses, “ I shall find that out 499 
 for myself. See that you keep my counsel and leave the rest 
 to heaven.” 
 
 G 
 
82 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 503' Euryclea now went to fetch some more water, for the first 
 had been all spilt. When she had brought it, and had washed 
 Ulysses, he turned his seat round to the fire to dry himself, and 
 drew his rags over the scar that Penelojoe might not see it. 
 
 508 Then Penelope detailed her sorrows to Ulysses. Others, 
 she said, could sleep, but she could not do so, neither night nor 
 day. She could not rest for thinking what her duty might be. 
 Ought she to stay where she was and stand guard over her 
 son’s estate, or ought she to marry one of the suitors and 
 530 go elsewhere ? Her son, while he was a boy, would not hear 
 of her doing.this, but now that he was grown up and realised 
 the havoc that the suitors were making of his property, he was 
 continually urging her to go. Besides, she had had a strange 
 538 dream about an eagle that had come from a mountain and 
 swooped down on her favourite geese as they were eating mash 
 out of a tub,* and had killed them all. Then the eagle came 
 back and told her he was Ulysses, while the geese were the 
 suitors ; but when she woke the geese were still feeding at the 
 mash tub. How, what did all this mean ? 
 
 554 Ulysses said it could only mean the immediate return of 
 her husband, and his revenge upon the suitors. 
 
 559 But Penelope would not believe him. “ Dreams,” she said, 
 “ are very curious things. They come through two gates, one 
 of horn, and the other of ivory. Those that come through the 
 gate of ivory have no significance. It is the others that alone 
 are true, and my dream came through the gate of ivory. To¬ 
 morrow, therefore, I shall set Ulysses’ bow before the suitors, 
 and I will leave this house with him who can draw it most 
 easily and send an arrow through the twelve holes whereby 
 twelve axeheads are fitted into their handles.” 
 
 582 “You need not defer this competition,” said Ulysses, “for 
 your husband will be here before any one of them can draw 
 the bow and shoot through the axes.” 
 
 588 “ Stranger,” replied Penelope, “ I could stay talking with 
 
 you the whole night through, but there is a time for every- 
 
 * I have repeatedly seen geese so feeding at Trapani and in the neighbourhood. In 
 summer the grass is all burned up so that they cannot graze as in England. 
 
STOKY OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 83 
 
 thing, and I will now go to lie down upon that conch which I 
 have never ceased to water with my tears from the day my 
 husband set out for the city with an ill-omened name. You 
 can sleep within the house, either on the ground or on a 
 bedstead, whichever you may prefer.” 
 
 Then she went upstairs and mourned her dear husband till 600 
 Minerva shed sweet sleep over her eyes. 
 
 BOOK XX. 
 
 Ulysses converses with Eumceus, and with his herdsman 
 Philoetius—The suitors again maltreat him—Theoclymenus 
 foretells their doom and leaves the house. 
 
 Ulysses made himself a bed of an untanned ox-hide in the 
 vestibule and covered himself with sheep skins ; then Eurynome 
 threw a cloak over him. He saw the women who misbehaved 
 themselves with the suitors go giggling out of the house, and 6 
 was sorely tempted to kill them then and there, but he 
 restrained himself. He kept turning round and round, as 
 a man turns a paunch full of blood and fat before a hot fire 
 to cook it, and could get no rest till Minerva came to him and 
 comforted him, by reminding him that he was now in Ithaca. 
 
 “ That is all very well,” replied Ulysses, “ but suppose I do S6 
 kill these suitors, pray consider what is to become of me then ? 
 Where am I to fiy to from the revenge their friends will take 
 upon me ? ” 
 
 “One would think,” answered Minerva, “that you might 41 
 trust even a feebler aid than mine; go to sleep; your troubles 
 shall end shortly.” 
 
 Ulysses then slept, but Penelope was still wakeful, and 54 
 lamented her impending marriage, and her inability to sleep, in 
 such loud tones that Ulysses heard her, and thought she was 
 close by him. 
 
 It was now morning and Ulysses rose, praying the while to 9i 
 Jove. “ Grant me,” he cried, “a sign from one of the people 
 who are now waking in the house, and another sign from 
 outside it.” 
 
 G 2 
 
84 
 
 THE AUTHORESS GF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 102 Forfcliwith Jove tliundered from a clear sky. There came 
 also a miller woman from the mill-room, who, beiog weakly, 
 
 no had not finished her appointed task as soon as the others had 
 done ; as she passed Ulysses he heard her curse the suitors and 
 pray for their immediate death. Ulysses was thus assured 
 that he should kill them. 
 
 122 The other women of the house now lit the fire, and Tele- 
 machus came down from his room. 
 
 129 “ Nurse,” said he, “ I hope you have seen that the stranger 
 
 has been duly fed and lodged. My mother, in spite of her 
 many virtues, is apt to be too much impressed by inferior 
 people, and to neglect those who are more deserving.” 
 
 134 “ Do not find fault, child,” said Euryclea, “ when there is no 
 
 one to find fault with. The stranger sat and drank as much 
 wine as he liked. Your mother asked him if he would take any 
 more bread, but he said he did not want any. As for his bed, 
 he would not have one, but slept in the vestibule on an untanned 
 hide, and I threw a cloak over him myself.” 
 
 144 Telemachus then went out to the place of assembly, and his 
 two dogs with him. “Now, you women,” said Euryclea, “be 
 quick and clean the house down. Put the cloths on the seats, 
 sponge down the tables ; wash the cups and mixing bowls, and 
 go at once, some of you, to fetch water from the fountain. It 
 is a feast day, and the suitors will be here directly.” So 
 twenty of them went for water, and others busied themselves 
 setting things straight about the house. 
 
 160 The men servants then came and chopped wood. The 
 women came back from the fountain, and Eummus with them, 
 bringing three fine pigs, which he let feed about the yards. 
 When he saw Ulysses he asked him how he was getting on, 
 and Ulysses prayed that heaven might avenge him upon the 
 suitors. 
 
 172 Then Melanthius came with the best goats he had, and 
 made-them fast in the gate-house. When he had done this he 
 gibed at Ulysses, but Ulysses made him no answer. 
 
 185 Thirdly came Philoetins with a barren heifer and some 
 fat goats for the suitors. These had been brought over for 
 him by the boatmen who plied for all comers. When he saw 
 
STORY OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 85 
 
 Ulysses, he asked Eumseus who^he was, and said he was very 
 like his lost master. Then he told Ulysses how well his old 
 master had treated him, and how well also he had served his 
 old master. Alas 1 that he was no longer living. “We are 
 fallen,” said he, “ on evil times, and I often think that though it 
 would not be right of me to drive my cattle off, and put both 
 myself and them •under some other master while Telemachus 
 is still alive, yet even this would be better than leading the 
 life I have to lead at present. Indeed I should have gone off 
 with them long ago, if I did not cling to the hope that Ulysses 
 may still return.” 
 
 “ I can see,” said Ulysses, “ that you are a very honest and 226 
 sensible person. Therefore I will swear you a solemn oath that 
 Ulysses will be here immediately, and if you like you shall see 
 him with your own eyes kill the suitors,” 
 
 While they were thus conversing the suitors were again 240 
 plotting the murder of Telemachus, but there appeared an 
 unfavourable omen, so Amphinomus said they had better go to 
 the house and get dinner ready, which they accordingly did. 
 When they were at table, Bumseus gave them their cups, 
 Philoetius handed round the bread and Melantheus poured 
 them out their wine. Telemachus purposely set Ulysses at a 
 little table on the part of the cloister that was paved with 
 stone, and told the suitors that it should be worse for any of 
 them who molested him. “Thi'S,” he said, “is not a public 
 house, but it is mine, for- it has come to me from Ulysses.” 
 
 The suitors were very angry but Antinous checked them. 268 
 “ Let us put up with it,” said he “ if Jove had permitted, we 
 should have been the death af him ere now.” Meanwhile, it 
 being the festival of Apollo, the people of the town were 
 bearing his holy hecatomb about the streets.. 
 
 The servants gave Ulysses an equal portion with what they 279 
 gave the others, for Telemachus had so bidden them. Presently 
 one of the suitors named Ctesippus observed this and said, 
 
 “ I see the stranger has as good a portion as any one else. 
 
 I will give him a better, that he may have something to give 296 
 the bath-woman or some other of the servants in the house ”— 
 and with this he flung a cow’s heel at Ulysses’ head. 
 
86 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 302- Ulysses smiled witli a grim Sardinian* smile, and bowed 
 his head so that the heel passed over it and hit the wall. 
 Telemachus rebuked Ctesippus very fiercely, and all were 
 silent; till Agelans tried to calm them saying, “ What Tele- 
 machns has said is just: let ns not answer. Nevertheless I 
 would urge him to talk quietly with his mother and tell her 
 that as long as there was any chance of Ulysses coming back 
 there was nothing unreasonable in her deferring a second 
 marriage; but there is now no.hope of his return, and if you 
 would enjoy your own in peace, tell her to marry the best man 
 among us and the one who will make her the most advan¬ 
 tageous offer.” 
 
 338 “ ^ay,” answered Telemachus, “ it is not I that delay her 
 
 marriage. I urge her to it, but I cannot and will not force 
 her.” 
 
 345 Then Minerva made the suitors break out into a forced 
 hysterical laughter, and the meats which they were eating 
 became all smirched with blood. Their eyes were filled with 
 tears and their hearts were oppressed with terrible forebodings. 
 Theoclymenus saw that all was wrong, 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 yard 
 beyond them are full of ghosts trooping down into the night of 
 hell; the sun is blotted out from heaven, and a blighting 
 gloom is over all the land.” 
 
 358 The suitors laughed at him, and Eurymachus said, “ If you 
 find it so dark here, we had better send a man with you to take 
 you out into the open.” 
 
 363 “ I have eyes,” he answered, “ that can guide, and feet that 
 
 can take me from the doom that 1 see overhanging every 
 single one of you.” On this he left them and went back to the 
 house of Pirasus. 
 
 375 Then one of the suitors said, “Telemachus, you are very 
 unfortunate in your guests. You had better ship both the 
 
 * This is the only reference to Sardinia in either Il}ad or Odyssey. 
 
STORY OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 87 
 
 stranger and this man off to the Sicels and sell them.’’ 
 Telemachus made no answer, bnt kept his eye on his father 
 for any signal that he might make him. 
 
 Penelope had had a seat placed for her overlooking the 387 
 cloister, and heard all that had passed. The dinner had been 
 good and plentiful and there had been much laughter, for they 
 had slaughtered many victims, but little did they guess the 
 terrible supper which the goddess and a strong man were 
 preparing for them.. 
 
 BOOK XXI. 
 
 The trial of the how and of the axes. 
 
 Then Minerva put it in Penelope’s mind to let the suitors 
 compete for the bow and for a prize of iron. So she went 
 upstairs and got the key of the store room, where Ulysses 
 treasures of gold, copper, and iron were kept, as also the 
 mighty bow which Iphitns son of Enrytus had given him, and 
 which had been in common use by Eurytus as long as he was 
 alive. Hither she went attended by her women, and when she 
 had unlocked the door she took the bow down from its peg and 
 carried it, with its q^uiverfull of deadly arrows, to the suitors, 
 while her maids brought the chest in which were the many 
 prizes of iron that Ulysses had won. Then, still attended by 
 her two maidens, she stood by one of the bearing-posts that 
 supported the roof of the cloister, and told the suitors she 
 would marry the man among them who could string Ulysses’ 
 bow most easily, and send an arrow through the twelve holes 
 by which twelve axe-heads were fastened on to their handles. 
 
 So saying she gave the bow into the hands of Eumaeus and 80 
 bade him let the suitors compete as she had said. Eumeeus 
 wept as he took it, and so did Philoetius who was looking 
 on, whereon Antinous scolded them for a couple of country 
 bumpkins, 
 
 Telemachus said that he too should competCj and that if he 113 
 was successful he should certainly not allow his mother to 
 leave her home with a second husband, while he remained 
 alone. So saying he dug a long trench quite straight, set the 
 
88 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OU THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 axes in a line within it, and stamped the earth about them 
 to keep them steady; every one was surprised to see how 
 accurately he fixed them, considering that he had never seen 
 anything of the kind before.'^ Having set the axes duly, he 
 stood on the stone pavement, and tried to string the bow, but 
 failed three times. He would, however, have succeeded the 
 fourth time, if Ulysses had not made him a sign that he was 
 not to try any more. So he laid both bow and arrow down 
 and took his seat. 
 
 140 “ Then,” said Antinous, “ begin at the place where the cup¬ 
 
 bearer begins, and let each take his turn, going from left to 
 right.” On this Leiodes came forward. He was their sacri¬ 
 ficial priest, and sat in the angle of the wall hard by the 
 mixing bowl; but he had always set his face against the 
 wicked conduct of the suitors. When he had failed to string 
 the bow he said it was so hard to string that it would rob 
 many a man among them of life and heart—for which saying 
 Antinous rebuked him bitterly. 
 
 175 “Bring some fire, Melantheus, and a wheel of fat from 
 inside the house,” said he to Melanthius, [ 52 ^?] “ that we may 
 warm the bow and grease it.” So they did this, but though 
 many tried they could none of them string it. There remained 
 only Antinous and Eurymachus who were their ring leaders. 
 
 188 The swineherd and the stockman Philoetius then went out¬ 
 side the forecourt, and Ulysses followed them ; when they had 
 got beyond the outer yard Ulysses sounded them, and having 
 satisfied himself that they were loyal he revealed himself and 
 shewed them the scar on his leg. They were overjoyed, and 
 Ulysses said, “ Go back one by one after me, and follow these 
 instructions. The other suitors will not be for letting me have 
 the bow, but do you, Eumeeus, when you have got it in your 
 hands, bring it to me, and tell the women to shut themselves 
 
 * If Telemachus had never seen anything of the kind before, so probably, neither 
 had the writer of the Odyssey —at any rate no commentator has yet been able to under¬ 
 stand her description, and I doubt whether she understood it herself. It looks as though 
 the axe heads must have been wedged into the handles or so bound on to them as to 
 let the hole be visible through which the handle W’ould go when the axe was in use. 
 The trial is evidently a double one, of strength as regards the bending of the bow, and 
 accuracy of aim as regards shooting through a row of rings. 
 
STORY OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 89 
 
 into tlieir room. If the sound of groaning or uproar reaches 
 any of them when they are inside, tell them to stick to their 
 work and not come out. I leave it to you, Philoetius, to fasten 
 the gate of the outer court securely.’’ He then went inside, 
 and resumed the seat that he had left. 
 
 Eurymachus now tried to string the bow but failed. “ I do 245 
 not so much mind,” he said, “ about not marrying Penelope, 
 for there are plenty of other women in Ithaca and elsewhere. 
 What grieves me is the fact of our being such a feeble folk as 
 compared with our forefathers.” 
 
 Antinous reminded him that it was the festival of Apollo. 256 
 “ Who,” said he, “ can shoot on such a day as this ? Let us 
 leave the axes where they are—no one will take them ; let us 
 also sacrifice to Apollo the best goats Melanthius can bring 
 us, and resume the contest tomorrow.” 
 
 Ulysses then cunningly urged that he might be allowed to 274 
 try whether he was as strong a man as he used to be, and that 
 the bow should be placed in his hands for this purpose. The 
 suitors were very angry, but Penelope insisted that Ulysses 
 should have the bow ; if he succeeded in stringing it she said 
 it was absurd to suppose that she would marry him; but she 
 would give him a shirt and cloak, a javelin, sword, and a pair of 
 sandals, and she would send him wherever he might want 
 to go. 
 
 “ The bow, mother, is mine,” said Telemachus, “ and if I 343 
 choose to give it this man out and out I shall give it him. Go 
 within the house and mind your own proper duties.” 
 
 Penelope went back, with her women, wondering into the 354 
 house, and going upstairs into her room she wept for her dear 
 husband till Minerva shed sweet sleep over her eyes. 
 
 Eumaeus was about to take the bow to Ulysses, but the 359 
 suitors frightened him and he was for putting it down, till 
 Telemachus threatened to stone him back to his farm if he did 
 not bring it on at once ; he therefore gave the bow to Ulysses. 
 Then he called Euryclea aside and told her to shut the women 
 up, and not to let them out if they heard any groans or uproar. 
 She therefore shut them up. 
 
 At this point Philoetius slipped out and secured the main 388 
 
90 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 gate of the outer court with a ship’s cable of Byblus fibre 
 that happened to he lying beside it. This done, he returned 
 to his seat and kept his eye on Ulysses, who was examining 
 the bow with great care to see whether it was sound in all its 
 parts. 
 
 397 “ This man,” said the suitors, “ is some old bow-fancier ; 
 
 perhaps he has got one like it at home, or wants to make one, 
 so cunningly does the old rascal handle it.” 
 
 404 Ulysses, having finished his scrutiny, strung the how as 
 easily as a bard puts a new string on to his lyre. He tried tlm 
 string and it sang under his hand like the cry of a swallow. 
 He took an arrow that was lying out of its quiver by his table, 
 placed the notch on the string, and from his seat sent the 
 arrow through the handle-holes of all the axes and outside into 
 the yard. 
 
 424 “ Telemachus,” said he, “ your guest has not disgraced you. 
 
 It is now time for the suitors to have their supper, and to take 
 their pleasure afterwards with song and playing on the lyre.” 
 So saying he made a sign to Telemachus, who- girded on his 
 sword, grasped his spear, and stood armed beside his father’s 
 seat. 
 
 BOOK xxir. 
 
 The killing of the suitors, 
 
 Ulysses tore off his rags, and sprang on the broad pave¬ 
 ment,* with his bow and his quiver full of arrows. He shed 
 the arrows on to the ground at his feet and said, “ The contest 
 is at an end. I will now see whether Apollo will vouchsafe 
 me to hit another mark which no man has yet aimed at.” 
 
 8 He took aim at Antinous as he spoke. The arrow struck 
 him in the throat, so that he fell over and a thick stream of 
 blood gushed from his nostrils. He kicked his table from him 
 and upset the things on it, whereby the bread and meats were 
 
 * It is not expressly stated that the “stone pavement” is here intended. The 
 Greek has simply uXto S’ eVi fxiyav ovSou, but I do not doubt that the stone pave¬ 
 ment is intended. 
 
STORY OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 91 
 
 all soiled as they fell over on to the ground. The suitors were 
 instantly in an uproar, and looked towards the walls for 
 armour, hut there was none. ‘‘ Stranger,” they cried, “ yon 
 shall pay dearly for shooting people down in this way. Yon 
 are a doomed man.” But they did not yet understand that 
 Ulysses had killed Antinous on purpose. 
 
 Ulysses glared at them and said, “ Dogs, did yon think that 34 
 I should not return from Troy ? Yon have wasted my sub¬ 
 stance, you have violated the women of my house, you have 
 wooed my wife while I was still alive, you have feared neither 
 god nor man, and now yon shall die.” 
 
 Eurymachus alone answered. “ If you are Ulysses,” said 44 
 he, “we have done yon great wrong. It was all Antinons’s 
 doing. He never really wanted to marry Penelope: he wanted 
 to kill your son and to he chief man in Ithaca. He is no more; 
 then spare the lives of your people and we will pay you all.” 
 
 Ulysses again glared at him and said, “ I will not stay my eo 
 hand till I have slain one and all of you. You must fight, or 
 fly as you can, or die—and fly yon neither can nor shall.” 
 
 Eurymachus then said, “ My friends, this man will give us 68 
 no quarter. Let us show fight. Draw your swords and hold 
 the tables up in front of you as shields. Have at him with a 
 rush, and drive him from the pavement and from the door. 
 
 We could then get through into the town and call for help.” 
 
 While he spoke and was springing forward, Ulysses sent an 79 
 arrow into his heart and he fell doubled up over his table. 
 
 The cup and all the meats went over on to the ground as he 
 smote the earth with his forehead in the agonies of death. 
 
 Amphinomns then made for Ulysses to try and dislodge 89 
 him from the door, but Telemachus got behind him, and struck 
 him through. He left his spear in the body and flew back to 
 his father’s side ; “ Father,” said he, “ let me bring armour for 
 you and me, as well as for Eummus and Philoetius.” “Hun 
 and fetch it,” answered Ulysses, “ while my arrows hold out; 
 be quick, or they may get me away from the door when I am 
 single-handed.” 
 
 Telemachus went to the store-room and brought four 108 
 shields, eight spears, and four helmets. He armed himself, as 
 
92 
 
 THE AUTHOKESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 ' did also Eiimaeiis and Philoetius, who then placed themselves 
 beside Ulysses. As long as his arrows held ont Ulysses shot 
 the suitors down thick and threefold, but when they failed him 
 he stood the bow against the end wall of the house hard by the 
 door way, and armed himself. 
 
 126 Uow there was a trap-door (see plan, and f on p. 17) on the 
 wall, while at one end of the pavement there was an exit, 
 closed by a good strong door and leading out into a narrow 
 passage; Ulysses told Philoetius to stand by this door and 
 keep it, for only one person could attack it at a time. Then 
 Agelans shouted ont, “ Go up, somebody, to the trap-door and 
 tell the people what is going on ; they would come in and help 
 us.” 
 
 135 “ This may not be,” answered Melanthius, “ the mouth of 
 
 the narrow passage is dangerously near the entrance from the 
 street into the outer court. One brave man could prevent any 
 number from getting in, but I will bring you arms from the 
 store-room, for I am sure it is there that they have put them-.” 
 
 143 As he spoke he went by back passages to the store-room, and 
 brought the suitors twelve shields and the same number of 
 helmets ; when Ulysses saw the suitors arming his heart began 
 to fail him, and he said to Telemachus, “ Some of the women 
 inside are helping the suitors—or else it is Melanthius.” 
 
 153 Telemachus said that it was his fault, for he had left the 
 store-room door open. “Go, Eummus,” he added, “and close 
 it; see whether it is one of the women, or Melanthius, son of 
 Dolius.” 
 
 160 Melanthius was now going back for more armour when 
 Enm^us saw him and told Ulysses, who said, “ Follow him, 
 you and Philoetius ; bind his hands and feet behind him, and 
 throw him into the store-room; then string him up to a 
 bearing-post till he is close to the rafters, that he may linger 
 on in agony.” 
 
 178 The men went to the store-room and caught Melanthius. 
 They bound him in a painful bond and strung him up as 
 Ulysses had told them. Eumaeus wished him a good night 
 and the two men returned to the side of Ulysses. Minerva 
 
 205 also joined them, having assumed the form of Mentor; but 
 
STORY OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 93 
 
 Ulysses felt sure it was Minerva. The suitors were very angry 
 when they saw her ; “ Mentor,” they cried, “ yon shall pay for 
 this with your life, and we will confiscate all you have in the 
 world.” 
 
 This made Minerva furious, and she rated Ulysses roundly, 224 
 “ Your prowess,” said she, “ is no longer what it was at Troy. 
 How comes it that you are less valiant now that you are on 
 your own ground ? Come on, my good fellow, and see how 
 Mentor will fight for you and requite you for your many 
 kindnesses.” But she did not mean to give him the victory 
 just yet, so she flew up to one of the rafters and sat there in 
 the form of a swallow."^ 
 
 The struggle still continued. “ My friends,” said Agelaus, 24i 
 “ he will soon have to leave off. See how Mentor has left him 
 after doing nothing for him except brag. Do not aim at him 
 all at once, but six of you throw your spears first.” 
 
 They did so, but Minerva made all their spears take no 265 
 effect. Ulysses and the other three then threw, and each 
 killed his man. The suitors drew back in fear into a corner, 
 whereon the four sprang forward and regained their weapons. 
 The suitors again threw, and this time Amphimedon really did 
 take a piece of the top skin from Telemachus’s wrist, and 
 Ctesippus just grazed Eumgeus’s shoulder above his shield. It 
 was now the turn of Ulysses and his men, and each of their 
 spears killed a man. 
 
 Then Minerva from high on the roof held up her deadly 297 
 fegis, and struck the suitors with panic, whereon Ulysses and 
 his men fell upon them and smote them on every side. They 
 made a horrible groaning as their brains were being battered 
 in, and the ground seethed with their blood. Leiodes implored 
 Ulysses to spare his life, but Ulysses would give him no 
 quarter. 
 
 The minstrel Phemius now begged for mercy. He was 330 
 
 * This again suggests, though it does not prove, that we are in an open coui't 
 surrounded by a cloister, on the rafters of which swallows would often perch. 
 Line 297 suggests this even more strongly, “ the roof ” being, no doubt, the roof of 
 the cloister, on to which Minerva flew from the rafter, that her mgis might better 
 command the whole court. 
 
94 
 
 THE AUTHOKESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 standing near towards the trap-door, and resolving to embrace 
 Ulysses’ knees, he laid his lyre on the ground between the 
 mixing-bowl and the high silver-studded seat. “ Spare me,” 
 he cried, “ you will be sorry for it afterwards if you kill such a 
 bard as I am. I am an original composer, and heaven visits 
 me with every kind of inspiration. Do not be in such a 'hurry 
 to cut my head off. Telemachus will tell you that I only sang 
 to the suitors because they forced me.” 
 
 S51 “ Hold,” cried Telemachus to his father, “ do him no hurt, 
 
 he is guiltless ; and we will spare Medon, too, who was always 
 good to me when I was a boy, unless EumaDUS or Philoetius 
 has already killed him, or you happened to fall in with him 
 yourself.” 
 
 301 “ Here I am, my dear Sir,” said Medon, coming out from 
 
 under a freshly flayed heifer’s hide* which had concealed him ; 
 “tell your father, or he will kill me in*his rage against the 
 suitors for having wasted his substance and been so dis¬ 
 respectful to yourself.” Ulysses smiled, and told them to go 
 outside into the outer court till the killing should be over. So 
 they went, but they were still very much frightened. Ulysses 
 then went all over the court to see if there were any who had 
 concealed themselves, or were not yet killed, but there was no 
 one ; they were all as dead as fish lying in a hot sun upon the 
 beach. 
 
 390 Then he told Telemachus to call Euryclea, who came at 
 once, and found him all covered with blood. When she saw 
 the corpses she was beginning to raise a shout of triumph, but 
 
 411 Ulysses checked her: “Old woman,” said he, “rejoice in 
 silence; it is an unholy thing to vaunt over dead men. And 
 now tell me which of the women of the house are innocent and 
 which guilty.” 
 
 419 “There are fifty women in the house,” said Euryclea; 
 “ twelve of these have misbehaved, and have been wanting in 
 respect to me and to Penelope. They showed no disrespect to 
 Telemachus, for he has only lately grown up, and his mother 
 
 * Probably the hide of the heifer that Philoetius had brought in that morning 
 (xx. 186). 
 
STORY OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 95 
 
 never permitted him to give orders to the female servants. 
 And now let me go upstairs and tell your wife.” 
 
 “ Do not wake her yet,” answered Ulysses, “ but send the 430 
 guilty women to me.” 
 
 Then he called Telemachns, Eum^eus, and Philoetius. 435 
 “ Begin,” he said, “ to remove the dead bodies, and make the 
 women help you. Also get sponges and clean water to swill 
 down the tables and the seats. When you have thoroughly 
 cleansed the cloisters take the women outside and run them 
 through with your swords.” 
 
 The women came down weeping and wailing bitterly. 446 
 First they carried the dead bodies out, and propped them 
 against one another in the gatehouse of the outer court. 
 Ulysses ordered them about and saw that they lost no time. 
 When they had carried the bodies out they cleaned all the 
 tables and seats with sponges and water, while Telemachus and 
 the two others shovelled up the blood and dirt from the ground 
 and the women carried it all outside. When they had thus 
 thoroughly cleaned the whole court, they took the women out 
 and hemmed them up in the narrow space between the vaulted 
 room and the wall of the outer yard. Here Telemachus deter¬ 
 mined to hang them, as a more dishonourable death than 462 
 stabbing. He therefore made a ship’s rope fast to a strong 
 bearing-post supporting the roof of the vaulted room, and threw 
 it round, making the women put their heads in the nooses one 
 after another. He then drew the rope high up, so that none 
 of their feet might touch the ground. They kicked convulsively 
 for a while, but not for very long. 
 
 As for Melanthius they took him through the cloisters into 474 
 the outer court. There they cut off his nose and ears; they 
 drew out his vitals and gave them to the dogs, raw ; then they 
 cut off his hands and feet. When they had done this they 
 washed their hands and feet, and went back into the house. 
 
 “ Go,” said Ulysses, to Euryclea, “ and bring me sulphur that 
 I may burn it and purify the cloisters. Go, moreover, and bid 
 Penelope come here with her gentlewomen and the women of 
 the house.” 
 
 “ Let me first bring you a clean shirt and cloak,” said 485 
 
90 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE OHYSSEl". 
 
 ' Eiiryclea, “do not keep those rags on any longer, it is not 
 right.” 
 
 90 “ Light me a fire,” answered Ulysses, and she obeyed and 
 
 brought him sulphur, wherewith he thoroughly purified both 
 the inner and outer court, as well as the cloisters * Then 
 Euryclea brought the women from their apartment, and they 
 pressed round Ulysses, kissing his head and shoulders, and 
 taking hold of his hands. It made him feel as if he should 
 like to weep, for he remembered every one of them. 
 
 BOOK XXllt 
 
 Penelope comes down to see Ulysses^ and being at last con¬ 
 vinced that he is her husband^ retires with him to their own 
 old room^In the morning Ulysses, (Telemachus, Philoetius, 
 and Eumceus go to the house of Laertes, 
 
 Euryclea now went upstairs and told Penelope what had 
 happened. “Wake up, my dear child,” said she, “Ulysses is 
 come home at last and has killed the suitors who were giving 
 so much trouble in the house, eating up his estate and ill- 
 treating his son.” 
 
 10 “ My good nurse,” answered Penelope, “ you must be mad. 
 
 The gods sometimes send very sensible people out of their 
 minds, and make foolish people sensible. This is what they 
 must have been doing to you. Moreover, you have waked me 
 from the soundest sleep that I have enjoyed since my husband 
 left me. Go back into the women’s room ; if it had been any 
 one but you, I should have given her a severe scolding.” 
 
 25 Euryclea still maintained that what she had said was true, 
 and in answer to Penelope’s further questions told her as much 
 as she knew about the killing of the suitors. “ When 1 came 
 down,” she said, “ I found Ulysses standing over the corpses ; 
 you would have enjoyed it, if you had seen him all bespattered 
 with blood and filth, and looking just like a lion. But the 
 corpses are now piled up in the gatehouse, and he has sent me 
 to bring you to him.” 
 
StORY OF ME ODYSSEY. 
 
 97 
 
 Penelope said that it could not be Ulysses, bnt must be 58 
 some god wbo bad resolved to pnnisb tbe suitors for tbeir great 
 wickedness. Then Euryclea told ber about tbe scar. 
 
 “ My dear nurse,” answered Penelope, “ however wise you so 
 may be, yon can hardly fathom tbe counsels of tbe gods. Still 
 I will go and find my son that I may see tbe corpses of tbe 
 suitors, and tbe man who has killed them.” 
 
 On this she came down into tbe cloister and took her seat 85 
 opposite Ulysses, in tbe fire-light, by tbe wall at right angles 
 to that by which she bad entered, while ber husband sat by 
 one of the bearing-posts of tbe cloister, looking down and 
 waitiog to bear what she would say. For a long time she sat 
 as one lost in amazement and said nothing, till Teiemacbus 
 upbraided ber for her coldness. “ Your heart,” be said, “ was 
 always hard as a stone/’ 
 
 “My son,” said bis mother, “I am stupefied; nevertheless 104 
 if this man is really Ulysses, I shall find it out; for there are 
 tokens which we two alone know of.” 
 
 Ulysses smiled at this, and said to Teiemacbus, “Let your iii 
 mother prove me as she will, she will make up her mind about 
 it presently. Meanwhile let us think what we shall do, for we 
 have been killing all the picked youth of Ithaca.” 
 
 “We will do,” answered Teiemacbus, “whatever you may 123 
 think best/’ 
 
 “Then,” said Ulysses, “wash, and put your shirts on. Bid i29 
 the maids also go to their own room and dress. Phemins shall 
 strike up a dance tune, so that any who are passing in the 
 street may think there is a wedding in the house, and we can 
 get away into the woods before the death of the suitors is 
 noised abroad. Once there, we will do as heaven shall direct.” 
 
 They did as he had said. The house echoed with the sound of I4i 
 men and women dancing, and the people outside said, “ So the 
 queen has been getting married at last. She ought to be 
 ashamed of herself, for not staying to protect her husband’s 
 property.” 
 
 Eurynome washed and anointed Ulysses; Minerva also 152 
 beautified him, making the hair grow thick on the top of his 
 head and flow down in hyacinthine curls. He came from the 
 
 H 
 
98 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 'bath looking like an immortal god, and sat down opposite his 
 wife. Finding, however, that he conld not move her, he said 
 to Euryclea, “ Nurse, get a bed ready for me. I will sleep 
 alone, for this woman has a heart as hard as iron.’’ 
 jyg “My dear,” said Penelope, “I have no wish to set myself 
 up, nor to depreciate you, bat I am not struck by your appear¬ 
 ance, for I well remember what kind of a man you were when 
 you left Ithaca. Nevertheless, Euryclea, take his bed out of 
 the room he built for it, and make it ready for him.” 
 
 181 Ulysses knew that the bed could not be moved without 
 cutting down the stem of a growing olive tree on the stumj) of 
 which he had built it. He was very angry, and desired to 
 know who had ventured on doing this, at the same time 
 describing the bed fully to Penelope* 
 
 205 Then Penelope was convinced that he really was Ulysses, 
 and fairly broke down. She flung her, arms about his neck, 
 and said she had only held aloof so long because she had been 
 shuddering at the bare thought of any one deceiving her. 
 Ul 3 ^sses in his turn melted and embraced her, and they would 
 have gone on indulging their sorrow till morning came, had 
 not Minerva miraculously prolonged the night. 
 
 247 Ulysses then began to tell her of the voyages which 
 Tiresias had told him he must now undertake, but soon broke 
 off by saying that they had better go to bed. To which 
 Penelope rejoined that as she should certainly have to be told 
 about it sooner or later, she had perhaps better hear it at once. 
 263 Thus pressed Ulysses told her. “ In the end,” said he, 
 “ Tiresias told me that death should come to me from the sea. 
 He said my life should ebb away very gently when I was full 
 of, years and peace of mind, and that my people should bless 
 me.” 
 
 288 Meanwhile Eurynome and Euryclea made the room ready,* 
 
 * This room was apparently not within the body of the house. It was certainly on. 
 the ground floor, for the bed was fixed on to the stump of a tree; I strongly suspect it 
 to be the vaulted room, round the outside of which the bodies of the guilty maids were 
 still hanging, and I also suspect it was in older to thus festoon the room that Tele- 
 machus hanged the women instead of stabbing them, but this is treading on that 
 perilous kind of speculation which I so strongly deprecate in others. If it were not for 
 the gruesome horror of the dance, in lines 129—151, I should not have entertained it. 
 
STORY OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 99 
 
 and Euryclea went inside tile llouse, leaving Enrynonie to 
 light Penelope and Ulysses to their bed-room. Telemachiis, 
 Philoetins, and Enmanis now left off dancing, and made the 
 women leave off also. Then they laid themselves down to sleep 
 in the cloisters. 
 
 When they were in bed together, Penelope told Ulysses how 300 
 much she had had to bear in seeing the house filled with 
 wicked suitors who had killed so many oxen and sheep on her 
 account, and had drunk so many casks of wine. Ulysses in 
 his turn told her the whole story of his adventures, touching 3io 
 briefly upon every point, and detailing not only his own 
 sufferings but those he had inflicted upon other people. She 
 was delighted to listen, and never went to sleep till he ended 
 his story and dropped off into a profound slumber. 
 
 When Minerva thought that Ulysses had slept long enough 344 
 she permitted Dawn to rise from the waters of Oceanus, and 
 Ulysses got up.- “ Wife,” said he to Penelojoe, “ Uow that we 
 have at last come together again, take care of the property 
 that is in my house.- As for the sheep and goats that the 
 wicked suitors have eaten, I will take many by force from 
 other people, and will compel the men of the place to make 
 good the rest. I will now go out to my father’s house in the 
 country* At sunrise it will get noised about that I have been 
 killing the suitors. Go upstairs, therefore, and stay there with 
 your waiting women. See nobody, and ask no questions.” 
 
 As he spoke he girded on his armour; he roused the others 366 
 also and bade them arm. He then undid the gate, and they 
 all sallied forth. It was now daylight, but Minerva enshrouded 
 them in darkness, and led them quickly out of the town. 
 
 BOOK XXIV. 
 
 The Ghosts of the suitors in Hades—Ulysses sees his father — 
 is attacked hy the friends of the suitors—Laertes kills 
 Eupeithes—Peace is made between him. and the people of 
 Ithaca, 
 
 Then Mercury took the fair golden wand with which he 
 seals men’s eyes in sleep or wakes them just as he pleases, and 
 
100 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 'led the ghosts of the suitors to the house of Hades whining 
 and gibbering as they followed. As bats fly squealing about 
 the hollow of a great cave when one of them has fallen from 
 the cluster in which they hang—even so did they whine and 
 squeal as Mercury the healer of sorrow led them down into the 
 dark abode of death. When they had passed the waters of 
 Oceanus and the rock Leucas, they came to the gates of the 
 Sun and the land of dreams, whereon they reached the meadow 
 of asphodel where dwell the souls and shadows of men that can 
 labour no more. 
 
 15 Here they came upon the ghosts of Achilles, Patroclus, 
 Antilochus, and Ajax, and that of Agamemnon joined them. 
 As these were conversing. Mercury came up with the ghosts of 
 the suitors, and Agamemnon’s ghost recognised that of Amphi- 
 medon who had been his host when he was in Ithaca ; so he 
 asked him what this sudden arrival of fine young men—all of 
 an age too—might mean, and Amphimedon told him the whole 
 story from first to last. 
 
 203 Thus did they converse in the house of Hades deep within 
 the bowels of the earth. Meanwhile Ulysses and the others 
 passed out of the city and soon reached the farm of Laertes, 
 wliich he had reclaimed with infinite labour. Here was his 
 house with a lean-to running all round it, where the slaves 
 wdio worked for him ate and slept, while inside the house there 
 was an old Sicel woman, who looked after him in this his 
 couiitry farm. 
 
 214 “Go,” said Ulysses to the others, “to the house, and kill 
 
 the best pig you have for dinner ; I wish to make trial of my 
 father and see whether he will know me.” 
 
 219 So saying he gave his armour to Euma3us and Philoetius, 
 and turned otf into the vineyard, where he found his father 
 alone, hoeing a vine. He had on a dirty old shirt, patched 
 and very shabby ; his legs were bound round with thongs of 
 oxhide to keep out the brambles, and he wore sleeves of 
 leather against the thorns. He had a goatskin cap on his 
 his head and was looking very woebegone. 
 
 232 When Ulysses saw him so worn, so old and full of sorrow, 
 he stood still under a tall pear tree and began to weep. He 
 
STORY OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 101 
 
 doubted whether to embrace him, kiss him, and tell him all 
 about his having come home, or whether he should first 
 question him and see what he would say. On the whole he 
 decided that he would be crafty with him, so he went up to his 
 father who was bending down and digging about a plant. 
 
 “ I see, Sir,” said Ulysses, “ that you are an excellent 244 
 gardener—-what pains you take with it to be sure. There is 
 not a single plant, not a fig-tree, vine, olive, pear, nor flower¬ 
 bed, but bears the traces of your attention. I trust, however, 
 that you will not be offended if I say that you take better care 
 of your garden than of yourself. You are old, unsavoury, and 
 very meanly clad. It cannot be because you are idle tliat your 
 master takes such poor care of you; indeed, your face and 
 figure have nothing of the slave about them, but proclaim you 
 of noble birth. I should have said you were one of those who 
 should wash well, eat well, and lie soft at night as old men 
 have a right to do. But tell me, and tell me true, whose 
 bondsman are you, and in whose garden are you working ? 
 Tell me also about another matter—^is this place that I have 
 come to really Ithaca ? I met a man just now who said so, 
 but he was a dull fellow, and had not the patience to hear my 
 story out when I was asking whether an old friend of mine 
 who used to live here was still alive. My friend said he was 
 the son of Laertes son of Arceisius, and I made him large 
 presents on his leaving me.” 
 
 Laertes wept and answered that in this case be would never 280 
 see his presents back again, though he would have been amply 
 requited if Ulysses had been alive. “ But tell me,” he said, 
 
 “ who and whence are you ? Where is your ship ? or did you 
 come as passenger on some other man’s vessel ? ” 
 
 “ I will tell you every thing,” answered Ulysses, “quite 302 
 truly. I come from Alybas, and am son to king Apheides. 
 
 My name is Eperitus ; heaven drove me off my course as I was 
 leaving Sicania, and I have been carried here against my will. 307 
 As for my ship, it is lying over yonder off the open country 
 outside the town. It is five years since Ulysses left me— 308 
 Poor fellow ! we had every hope that we should meet again 
 and exchange presents,” 
 
103 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 315 - Laertes was overcome with grief, and Ulysses was so much 
 touched that he revealed himself. When his father asked for 
 proof, he shewed him the scar on his leg. “ Fnrthermore,” he 
 added, “ I will point out to yon the trees in the vineyard which 
 yon gave me, and I asked yon all about them as I followed you 
 round the garden. We went over them all, and you told me 
 their names and what they all were. You gave me thirteen 
 pear trees, ten apple trees, and forty fig trees, and you also 
 said you would give me fifty rows of vines; there was corn 
 planted between each row, and the vines yield grapes of every 
 kind when the heat of heaven has beaten upon them.” He 
 also told his father that he had killed the suitors, 
 
 845 Laertes was now convinced, but said he feared he should 
 have all the people of Ithaca coming to attack them, Ulysses 
 answered that he need not trouble about this, and that they 
 had better go and get their dinner, which would be ready by 
 the time they got to the house. 
 
 361 When they reached the house the old Sicel woman took 
 Laertes inside, washed him, and unointed him, Minerva 
 also gave him a more imposing presence and made him look 
 taller and stronger than before. When he came back, Ulysses 
 said, “ My dear father, some god has been making you much 
 taller and better looking.” To which Laertes answered that if 
 he was as young and hearty as when he took the stronghold 
 Nericum on the foreland, he should have been a great help to 
 him on the preceding day, and would have killed many suitors, 
 
 383 Dolius and his sons, who had been working hard by, now 
 came up, for the old Sicel woman, who was Holius’s wife, had 
 been to fetch them. When they were satisfied that Ulysses 
 was really there, they were overjoyed and embraced him one 
 after the other. “ But tell me,” said Dolius, “ does Penelope 
 know, or shall we send and tell her ? ” “ Old man,” answered 
 
 Ulysses, “ she knows already. What business is that of 
 yours ? ” Then they all took their seats at table. 
 
 4 ] 2 Meanwhile the news of the slaughter of the suitors had got 
 
 noised abroad, and the people gathered hooting and groaning 
 before the house of Ulysses. They took their dead, buried 
 every man his own, and put the bodies of those who oaniQ 
 
STORY OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 103 
 
 from elsewliere on board tbe fishing' vessels, for the fishermen 
 to take them every man to his own place. Then they met in 
 assembly and Eupeithes urged them to pursue Ulysses and the 
 others before they could escape over to the main land. 
 
 Medon, however, and Phemius had now woke up, and came 439 
 to the assembly* Medan dissuaded the people from doing as 
 Eupeithes advised, inasmuch as he had seen a god going about 
 killing the suitors, and it would be dangerous to oppose the 
 will of heaven* Halitherses also spoke in the same sense, and 
 half the people were pursuaded by him. The other half armed 
 themselves and followed Eupeithes in pursuit of Ulysses. 
 
 Minerva then consulted Jove as to the course events should 472 
 take. Jove told her that she had had everything her own way 
 so far, and might continue to. do as she pleased. He should, 
 however, advise that both sides should now be reconciled under 
 the continued rule .of Ulysses, Minerva approved of this and 
 darted down to Ithaca* 
 
 Laertes and his household had now- done dinner, and 489 
 Eupeithes with his band of men were seen to be near at hand. 
 Ulysses and the others put on their- armour, and Minerva 
 joined them* Telemachus,” said Ulysses, “ now that you are 
 about to fight in a decisive engagement, see that you do no 
 discredit to your ancestors, who were eminent all the world 
 over for their strength and valour.” 
 
 ‘‘ You shall see, my dear father,”' replied Telemachus, ‘‘ if 5io 
 you choose, that I am in no mind, as you say, to disgrace your 
 family.” 
 
 “Good heavens,” exclaimed Laertes, “what a day I am 513 
 enjoying. My son and grandson are vying with one another 
 in the matter of valour.” Minerva then came up to him, and 
 bade him pray to her. She infused fresh vigour into him, and 
 when he had prayed to her he aimed his spear at Eupeithes 
 and killed him. Ulysses and his men fell upon the others, 
 routed them, and would have killed one and all of them had 
 not Minerva raised her voice and made every one pause. 
 
 “ Men of Ithaca,” she cried, “ cease this dreadful war, and 
 settle the matter without further bloodshed.” 
 
 On this they turned pale with fear, dropped their armour, 533. 
 
104 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 and fled every man towards the city. Ulysses was swooping 
 * down upon them like an eagle, hut Jove sent a thunderbolt of 
 fire that fell just in front of Minerva. Whereon she said, 
 “ Ulysses, stay this strife, or Jove will be angry with you.” 
 
 545 Ulysses obeyed her gladly. Minerva then assumed the 
 voice and form of Mentor, and presently made a covenant of 
 peace between the two contending parties. 
 
( 105 ) 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE PHEPONDERANCB OF WOMAN IN THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 Having in my first chapter met the only a priori objections 
 to my views concerning the sex of the writer which have yet 
 been presented to me, I now turn to the evidence of female 
 authorship which is furnished by the story which I have just 
 laid before the reader. 
 
 What, let me ask, is the most unerring test of female 
 authorship ? Surely a preponderance of female interest, and a 
 fuller knowledge of those things which a woman generally has 
 to deal with, than of those that fall more commonly within the 
 province of man. People always write by preference of what 
 they know best, and they know best what they most are, and 
 have most to do with. This extends to ways of thought and 
 to character, even more than to action. If man thinks the 
 noblest study for mankind to be man, woman not less certainly 
 believes it to be woman. 
 
 Hence if in any work the women are found to be well and 
 sympathetically drawn, while the men are mechanical and by 
 comj)arison perfunctorily treated, it is, I imagine, safe to infer 
 that the writer is a woman ; and the converse holds good with 
 man. Man and woman never fully understand one another 
 save, perhaps, during courtship and honeymoon, and as a man 
 understands man more fully than a woman can do, so does a 
 woman, woman. Granted, it is the deliglit of either sex to 
 understand the other as fully as it can, and those who succeed 
 most in this respect are the best and happiest whether men or 
 women; but do what we may the barriers can never be broken 
 down completely, and each sex will dwell mainly, though not, 
 of course, exclusively, within its own separate world. When, 
 moreover, we come to think of it, it is not desirable that they 
 should be broken down, for it is on their existence that much 
 of the attraction of either sex to the other depends. 
 
106 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 Men seem unable to draw women at all witliont either 
 laughing at them or caricaturing them; and so, perhaps, a 
 woman never draws a man so felicitously as when she is 
 making him ridiculous. If she means to make him so she is 
 certain to succeed; if she does not mean it she will succeed more 
 surely still. Either sex, in fact, can caricature the other 
 delightfully, and certainly no writer has ever shown more 
 completely than the writer of the Odyssey^ has done that, next to 
 the glorification of woman, she considers man’s little ways and 
 weaknesses to be the fittest theme on which her genius can be 
 displayed. But I doubt whether any writer in the whole range 
 of literature (excepting, I suppose, Shakspeare) has succeeded 
 in drawing a full length, life-sized, serious portrait of a member 
 of the sex opposite to the writer’s own. 
 
 It is admitted on all hands that the preponderance of 
 interest in the Iliad is on the side of man, and in the Odyssey 
 on that of woman. Women in the Iliad are few in number 
 and rarely occupy the stage. True, the goddesses play 
 important parts, but they are never taken seriously.. 
 
 Shelley, again, speaking of the “ perpetually increasing 
 magnificence of the last seven books ” of the Iliad^ says, “ The 
 Odyssey is sweet, but there is nothing like this.”* The writer 
 of the Odyssey, is fierce as a tigress at times, but the feeling of 
 the poem is on the whole exactly what Shelley says it is. 
 Strength is felt everywhere even in the tenderest passages of 
 the Iliad, but it is sweetness rather than strength that 
 fascinates us throughout the Odyssey. It is the charm of a 
 woman not of a man. 
 
 So, again, to quote a more recent authority, Mr. Gladstone 
 in his work on Homer already referred to, says (p. 28) 
 
 It is rarely in the Iliad that grandeur or force give way to 
 allow the exhibition of domestic afiection. Conversely, in the 
 Odyssey the family life supplies the tissue into which is woven, the 
 thread of the poem. 
 
 Any one who is familiar with the two poems must know that 
 
 * Select Letters of Percy Bysshe Shelley, edited by Richard Garnett, Kegan Paui 
 Trench & Co., 1882, p. 149. 
 
GLADSTONE ON ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. 
 
 107 
 
 wliat Mr. Gladstone lias said is true; and he might have 
 added, not less truly, that when there is any exhibition of 
 domestic life and affection in the Iliad the men are dominant, 
 and the women are under their protection, whereas throughout 
 the Odyssey it is the women who are directing, counselling, 
 and protecting the men. 
 
 Who are the women in the Odyssey? There is Minerva, 
 omnipresent at the elbows of Ulysses and Telemachus to keep 
 them straight and alternately scold and flatter them. In the 
 Iliad she is a great warrior hut she is no woman: in the 
 Odyssey she is a great woman hut no warrior; we have, of 
 course, Penelope—-masterful nearly to the last and tossed off 
 to the wings almost from the moment that she has ceased to 
 he so; Euryclea, the old servant, is quite a match for Tele¬ 
 machus, “ do not find fault, child,” she says to him, “ when 
 there is no one to find fault with” (xx. 135). Who can doubt 
 that Helen is master in the house of Menelaus—of whom all 
 she can say in praise is that he is “not deficient either in 
 person or understanding” (iv. 264) ? Idothea in Book iv. 
 treats Menelaus de haul en has, all through the Proteus episode. 
 She is good to him and his men, hut they must do exactly what 
 she tells them, and she evidently enjoys “ running ” them,— 
 for I can think of no apter word. Calypso is the master mind, 
 not Ulysses ; and, he it noted, that neither she nor Circe seem 
 to have a manservant on their premises. I was at an inn once 
 and asked the stately landlady if I could see the landlord. 
 She bridled up and answered, “We have no landlord, sir, in 
 this house ; I cannot see what use a man is in a hotel except 
 to clean hoots and windows.” There spoke Circe and Calypso, 
 hut neither of them seem to have made even this much excep¬ 
 tion in man’s favour. 
 
 Let the reader ask any single ladies of his acquaintance, 
 who live in a house of their own, whether they prefer being 
 waited upon by men or by women, and 1 shall he much sur¬ 
 prised if he does not find that they generally avoid having a 
 man about the house at all—gardeners of course excepted. 
 But then the gardener generally has a wife, and a house of his 
 own. 
 
108 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 Take Nausicaa again, deliglatfnl as she is, it would not be 
 wise to contradict her; she knows what is good for Ulysses, 
 and all will go well with him so long as he obeys her, but she 
 must be master and he man. I see I have passed over Ino in 
 Book Y. She is Idothea over again, just as Circe is Calypso, 
 with very little variation. Who again is master—'Queen Arete 
 or King Alcinous ? Kansicaa knows well enough how to 
 answer this question. When giving her instructions to 
 Ulysses she says i 
 
 “Never mind my father, but go up to my mother and embrace her 
 knees ; if she is well disposed towards you there is some chance of 
 your getting home to see your friends again” (vi. 310-315). 
 
 Throughout the Phmacian episode Arete (whose name, by 
 the way, I take to be one of the writer’s tolerably transparent 
 disguises, and to be intended to suggest Arete, or “ Goodness”) 
 is a more important person than Alcinous. I do not believe in 
 her myself; I believe Penelope would have been made more 
 amiable if Arete had been as nice a person as the writer says 
 she was; leaving her, however, on one side, so much more 
 important are wives than husbands in the eyes of the author 
 of the Odyssey that when Ulysses makes his farewell speech 
 to the Phmacians, she makes him say that he hopes they may 
 continue to give satisfaction to their wives and children (xiii. 
 44, 46), instead of hoping that their wives and children will 
 continue to give satisfaction to them.. A little lower down he 
 wishes Queen Arete all happiness with her children, her 
 people, and lastly with King Alcinous. As for King Alcinous, 
 it does not matter whether he is happy or no, provided he gives 
 satisfaction to Queen Arete ; but he was bound to be happy as 
 the husband of such an admirable woman. 
 
 So when the Duke of York was being married I heard 
 women over and over again say they hoped the Princess May 
 would be very happy with him, but 1 never heard one say that 
 she hoped the Duke would be very happy with the Princess 
 May. Men said they hoped the pair would be very happy, 
 without naming one more than the other. 
 
 I have touched briefly on all the more prominent female 
 
MEN DO NOT HELP ULYSSES. 
 
 109 
 
 characters of the Odyssey. The moral in every case seems to 
 be that man knows very little, and cannot be trusted not to 
 make a fool of himself even about the little that he does 
 know, unless he has a woman at hand to tell him what he 
 ought to do. There is not a single case in which a man comes 
 to the rescue of female beauty in distress ; it is invariably the 
 other way about. 
 
 The only males who give Ulysses any help while he is on 
 his wanderings are ^olns, who does him no real service and 
 refuses to help him a second time, and Mercury, who gives 
 him the herb Moly (x. 305) to protect him against the spells of 
 Circe. In this last case, however, I do not doubt that the 
 W’riter was tempted by the lovely passage of 11. xxiv., where 
 Mercury meets Priam to conduct him to the Achgean camp; 
 one pretty line, indeed (and rather more), of the Iliadic passage 
 above referred to is taken bodily by the writer of the Odyssey 
 to describe the youth and beauty of the god.* With these 
 exceptions, throughout the poem Andromeda rescues Perseus, 
 not Perseus Andromeda—Christiana is guide and guardian to 
 Mr. Greatheart, not Mr. Greatheart to Christiana. 
 
 The case of Penelope may seem to be an exception. It may 
 be urged that Ulysses came to her rescue, and that the whole 
 poem turns on his doing so. But this is not true. Ulysses 
 kills the suitors, firstly, because they had wasted his substance 
 —this from the first to last is the main grievance; secondly, 
 because they had violated the female servants of his house; 
 and only, thirdly, because they had offered marriage to his wife 
 while he was still alive (xxii. 36-38). Never yet was woman 
 better able to hold her own when she chose, and I will show 
 at full length shortly that when she did not hold it it was 
 because she preferred not to do so. 
 
 I have dealt so far with the writer’s attitude towards 
 women when in the world of the living. Let us now see what 
 her instinct prompts her to consider most interesting in the 
 kingdom of the dead. When Ulysses has reached the abode 
 of Hades, the first ghost he meets is that of his comrade 
 
 * Od. X. 278, 279; cf. 11. XXIV. 347, 348. 
 
110 TllE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 Elpenor, avIio had got drunk and fallen off the roof of 
 Circe’s house just as Ulysses and his men were about to set 
 sail. We are ex]3ressly told that he was a person of no 
 importance, being remarkable neither for sense nor courage, 
 so that it does not matter about killing him, and it is trans- 
 joarent that the accident is only allowed to happen in order to 
 enable Ulysses to make his little joke when he greets the 
 ghost in Hades to the effect that Elpenor has got there more 
 quickly by land than Ulysses had done by water. Elpenor 
 therefore, does not count. 
 
 The order, however, in which the crowd of ghosts aj)proach 
 Ulysses, is noticeable. After the blood of the victims sacrificed 
 by Ulysses had flowed into the trench which he had dug to 
 receive it, the writer says :— 
 
 “The ghosts came trooping up from Erebus—brides, young 
 bachelors, old men worn out with toil, maids who had been crossed 
 in love, and brave men who had been killed in battle, with their 
 armour still smirched with blood ; they came from every quarter, 
 and flitted round the trench with a strange hind of screaming sound 
 that made me turn pale with fear” (xi. 36-43). 
 
 1 do not think a male writer would have put the brides 
 first, nor yet the young bachelors second. He would have 
 begun with kings or great warriors or poets, nor do I believe 
 he would make Ulysses turn pale with fear merely because the 
 ghosts screamed a little; they would have had to menace him 
 more seriously. 
 
 What does Bunyan do ? When Christian tells Pliable what 
 kind of company he will meet in Paradise, he says :— 
 
 “There we shall see elders with their golden crowns; there we 
 shall see holy virgins with their golden harps ; there we shall see 
 men that by the world were cut in pieces, burnt in flames, eaten of 
 beasts, drowned in the seas, for the love they bore to the Lord of 
 that place; all well and cloathed with immortality as with a 
 garment.” 
 
 Men present themselves to him instinctively in the first 
 instance, and though he quits them for a moment, he returns 
 to them immediately without even recognising the existence of 
 women among the martvrs. 
 
 O V 
 
WOMEN IN HADES* 
 
 111 
 
 Moreover, when Christian and Hopeful have passed through 
 the river of death and reached the eternal city, it is none hut 
 men who greet them. 
 
 True, after having taken Christian to the Eternal City, 
 Bnnyau conducts Christiana also, and her children, in his 
 Second Part; but surely if he had been an inspired woman and 
 not an inspired man, and if this woman had been writing as it 
 was borne in upon her by her own instinct, neither aping man 
 nor fearing him, she would have taken Christiana first, and 
 Christian, if she took him at all, in her appendix* 
 
 Next to Elpenor the first ghost that Ulysses sees is that of 
 his mother Anticlea, and he is sorely grieved that he may not, 
 by Circe’s instructions, speak to her till he has heard what the 
 Theban prophet Tiresias had got to tell him. As soon as he 
 has heard this, he enquires how he can make his mother 
 recognise him, and converse with him. This point being 
 answered there follows the incomparably beautiful scene 
 between him and Anticlea, which occupies some seventy or 
 eighty lines, and concludes by his mother’s telling him to get 
 home as fast as he can that he may tell of his adventures in 
 Hades—to whom ? To the world at large ? To his kinsmen 
 and countrymen ? No : it is to his wife that he is to recount 
 them and apparently to nobody else (xi. 223, 224). Very right 
 and proper ; but more characteristic of a female than of a male 
 writer. 
 
 Who follow immediately on the departure of Anticlea ? 
 Proserpine sends up “all the wives and daughters of great 
 princes ”—-Tyro, daughter of Salmoneus, Anti ope daughter of 
 Asopns, Alcmena, Epicaste (better known as Jocasta), Chloris 
 wife of Neleus, Leda, Iphimedeia, Phaedra, Procris, Ariadne, 
 M^era, Clymene, and Eriphyle. Ulysses says that there were 
 many more wives and daughters of heroes whom he conversed 
 with, but that time would not allow him to detail them further; 
 in deference, however, to the urgent request of King Alcinous, 
 he goes on to say how he met Agamemnon, Achilles, and Ajax 
 (who would not speak to him] ; he touched lightly also on 
 Minos, Orion, Tityus, Tantalus, Sisyphus, and Hercules. 
 
 1 have heard women say that nothing can be made out of the 
 
112 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 fact that the women in Hades are introduced hefoTe the men, 
 inasmuch as they would themselves have been more likely to 
 put the men before the women, and can understand that a male 
 writer would be attracted in the first instance by the female 
 shades. When women know what I am driving at, they 
 generally tell me this, but when I have got another woman to 
 sound them for me, or when I have stalked them warily, I 
 find that they would rather meet the Virgin Mary, Eve, Queen 
 Elizabeth, Cleopatra, Sappho, Jane Austen, St. Elizabeth of 
 Hungary, Helen of Troy, Zenobia, and other great women than 
 even Homer and Shakspeare. One comfortable homely woman 
 with whom I had taken great pains said she could not think 
 what I meant by asking such questions, but if I wanted to 
 kuow, she would as lief meet Mrs. Elizabeth Lazenby as Queen 
 Elizabeth or any one of them. For» my own part, had I to 
 choose a number of shades whom I would meet, I should include 
 Sappho, Jane Austen, and the authoress of the Odyssey in my 
 list, but I should probably ask first for Homer, Shakspeare, 
 Handel, Schubert, Arcangelo Corelli, Purcell, Giovanni Bellini, 
 Bembrandt, Holbein, He Hooghe, Donatello, Jean de Wespin 
 and many another man—yet the writer of the Odyssey 
 interests me so profoundly that I am not sure I should not 
 ask to see her before any of the others. 
 
 I know of no other women writers who have sent their 
 heroes down to Hades, but when men have done so they deal 
 with men first and women afterwards. Let us turn to Dante. 
 When Virgil tells him whom Christ first saved when he 
 descended into Hell, we find that he first rescued Adam. 
 Not a word is there about Eve. Then are rescued Abel, Noah, 
 Abraham, David, Jacob and his sons—and lastly, just before 
 the et ceteri —one woman, Bachel. When Virgil has finished, 
 Dante begins meeting people on his own account. First come 
 Homer, Horace, Ovid, and Lucan ; when these have been dis¬ 
 posed of we have Electra, Hector, ASneas, Ciusar, Camilla, 
 Peuthesilea, Latinus, Lavinia, Brutus, Cato’s wife Marcia, 
 Julia, Cornelia, Saladin, Socrates, Plato, Democritus, Diogenes, 
 Heraclitus, Empedocles, Anaxagoras, Thales, Zeno, Dioscorides, 
 Orpheus, Linus, Cicero, Seneca, Euclid, Ptolemy, Hqjpocrates, 
 
dAnTK—VIRGIL—F iELt)ING. 
 
 113 
 
 Galen, Avicen, and Averroes. Seven women to twenty-six 
 men. This list reminds me of Sir John Lubbock’s hundred 
 books, I shall therefore pursue Dante no further; I have 
 given it in full because I do not like him. So far as I can see 
 the Italians themselves are beginning to have their doubts 
 about him; “ Dante 6 un falso idolo,” has been said to me 
 more than once lately by highly competent critics. 
 
 Let us now look to the ^neid. When iEneas and the 
 Sibyl approacli the river Styx, we read 
 
 Hue omnis turba ad ripas effusa ruebat 
 Matres alque viri, defunctaque corpora vitd 
 Magnanimum heroum, pueri, innuptseque puelled, 
 Impositique rdgis juvenes ante ora parentum. 
 
 vi. 305-308. 
 
 The wdnien indeed come first, but the i in viri being short 
 Virgil could not help himself, and the first persons whom he 
 recognises as individuals are men—namely two of his captains, 
 who had been drowned, Lencaspis and Orontes—and Palinnrus. 
 Alter crossing the Styx he first passes through the region 
 inhabited by those who have died as infants; then that by 
 those who have been unjustly condemned to die •• then that by 
 suicides ; then that of those who have died for love, where he 
 sees several women, and among them Dido, who treats him as 
 Ajax treated Ulysses; The rest of those whom iEneas sees or 
 converses with in Hades are all men; 
 
 Lucian is still more nngallant, for in his dialogues of the 
 dead he does not introduce a single woman. 
 
 One other case alone occurs to me among the many that 
 ought to do so ; I refer to Fielding’s Journey to the next 
 World. The three first ghosts whom he speaks to in the 
 coach are men. When he gets to his journey’s end, after a 
 short but most touching scene with his own little daughter 
 who had died a mere child only a few months before Fielding 
 wrote, and who is therefore nothing to the point, he continues: 
 “ The first spirit with whom I entered into discourse, was the 
 famous Leonidas of Sparta.” Of course; soldier will greet 
 soldier first. In the next paragraph one line is given to 
 
 I 
 
114 
 
 THE AUTHOKESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 Sappho, who we are told was singing to the accompaniment 
 of Orpheus. Then we go on to Horner,^ Yirgil, Addison, 
 Shaksj)eare, Betterton, Booth, and Milton. 
 
 Defoe, again, being an elderly married man, and wanting to 
 comfort Bohinson Crusoe, can think of nothing better for him 
 than the companionship of another man, whereon he sends him 
 Friday. A woman would have sent him an amiable and good- 
 looking white girl whom the cannibals had taken prisoner 
 from some shipwrecked vessel. This she would have held as 
 likely to be far more useful to him. 
 
 So much to show that the mind of man, unless when he is 
 j^oung and lovesick, turns more instinctively to man than to 
 woman. And I am convinced, as indeed every one else is 
 whether he or she knows it or no, that with the above exception, 
 woman is more interested in woman. » This is how the Virgin 
 Mary has come to be Queen of Heaven, and practically of more 
 importance than’ the Trinity itself in the eyes of the common 
 people in Roman Catholic countries. For the women support 
 the theologians more than the men do. The male Jews, again, 
 so I am told, have a prayer in which the men thank God that 
 they were not born women, and the women, that they were not 
 born men. Each sex believes most firmly in itself, nor till we 
 have done away with individualism altogether can we find the 
 smallest reason to complain of this arrangement. A woman 
 if she attemj)ts an Epic is almost compelled to have a man for 
 her central figure, but she will minimise him, and will maxi¬ 
 mise his wife and daughters, drawing them with subtler hand. 
 That the writer of the Od'ijs&ey has done this is obvious : and 
 this fact alone should make us incline strongly towards think¬ 
 ing that we are in the hands not of a man but of a woman. 
 
 * Talking of Homer Fielding says, “I had the curiosity to ask him whether he 
 had really writ that poem [the Iliad] in detached pieces and flung it about all over 
 Greece, according to the report that went of him. He smiled at my question, and 
 asked me whether there appeared any connection in the poem ; for if there did he 
 thought I might answer for myself,” This was first published in 1743, and is no doubt 
 intended as a reply to Bentley. See Jebb’s Introduction to Homer, ed. 1888, note 1 on 
 p. 106. 
 
( 115 ) 
 
 CHAPTER IV, 
 
 JEALOUSY FOR THE HONOUR AND DIGNITY OF WOMAN—SEVERITY 
 AGAINST THOSE WHO HAVE DISGRACED THEIR SEX—LOVE OF 
 
 SMALL RELIGIOUS OBSERVANCES—OF PREACHING-OF WHITE 
 
 LIES AND SMALL PLAY-ACTING—OF HAVING THINGS BOTH 
 WAYS—AND OF MONEY. 
 
 Not Only does tlie writer shew a markedly greater both 
 interest and knowledge when dealing with women, but she 
 makes it plain that she is exceedingly jealous for the honour 
 of her sex, and by consequence inexorable in her severity 
 against those women who have disgraced it. Goddesses may 
 do what they like, they are not to be judged by mortal codes ; 
 but a mortal woman who has fallen must die. 
 
 No woman throughout the Odyssey is ever laughed at. 
 Women may be hanged but they must not be laughed at. Men 
 may be laughed at, indeed Alcinous is hardly mentioned at all 
 except to be made more or less ridiculous. One cannot say 
 that Menelaus in Books iv. and xv. is being deliberately made 
 ridiculous, but made ridiculous he certainly is, and he is treated 
 as a person of far less interest and importance than his wife is. 
 Indeed Ulysses, Alcinous, Menelaus, and Nestor are all so 
 like one another that I do not doubt they were drawn from 
 the same person, just as Ithaca and Scheria are from the same 
 place. Who that person was we shall never know; nevertheless 
 I would point out that unless a girl adores her father he is 
 generally, to her, a mysterious powerful being whose ways are 
 not as her ways He is feared as a dark room is feared by 
 children; and if his wife is at all given to laughing at him, 
 his daughter will not spare him, however much she may 
 cajole and in a way love him. 
 
 But, as I have said, though men may be laughed at, the 
 women are never taken other than quite seriously. Venus is, 
 indeed, made a little ridiculous in one passage, but she was a 
 
 i2 
 
116 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 goddess, SO it does not matter; besides, the brunt of tbe 
 ridicule was borne by Mars, and Venus was instantly re¬ 
 adorned and comforted by tbe Graces. I cannot remeruber a 
 single instance of a woman’s being made to do anything which 
 she could not do without loss of dignity^I except, of course, 
 slaves, and am speaking of the higher social classes» 
 
 It has often been observed that the Messenger of the Gods 
 in the Iliad is always Iris, while in the Odyssey he is no less 
 invariably Mercury. I incline to attribute this to the author’s 
 dislike of the idea that so noble a lady as Iris should be made 
 to fetch and carry for anybody. For it is evident Iris was still 
 generally held to have been the messenger of the gods. This 
 appears from the beginning of Book xviii., where we are told 
 that Irus’s real name was Arnseus, but that he was called Irus 
 (which is nothing but Iris with a inasculine termination) 
 “ because he used to carry messages when any one would send 
 him.” Writers do not fly in the face of current versions unless 
 for some special reasons of their own. 
 
 If, however, a woman has misconducted herself she is to be 
 shewn no mercy. There are only three cases in point, and one 
 of these hardly counts inasmuch as the punishment of the 
 guilty woman, Clytemnestra, was not meted out to her by the 
 authoress herself. The hold, however, which the story of 
 Clytemnestra’8 guilt has upon her, the manner in which she 
 repeatedly recurs to it, her horror at it, but at the same time 
 her desire to remove as much of the blame as possible from 
 Clytemnestra’s shoulders, convinces me that she acutely feels 
 the disgrace which Clytemnestra’s treachery has inflicted upon 
 all women “ even on the good ones.” Why should she be at 
 such pains to tell us that Clytemnestra was a person of good 
 natural disposition (iii. 266), and was irreproachable until 
 death had removed the bard under whose protection .Aga^ 
 memnon had placed her ?* When she was left alone—without 
 either husband or guardian, and with an insidious wretch like 
 A^gisthus beguiling her with his incessant flattery, she yielded^ 
 and there is no more to be said, except that it was very dread- 
 
 * The part about the bard is omitted in my abridgement. 
 
JE4-L0USY FOR THE HONOUR OF WOMA'N. 117 
 
 fill and she must be abandoned to her fate. I see Mr. Gladstone 
 has wondered what should have induced Homer (whom he 
 holds to have written the Odyssey as well as the Iliad) to tell 
 us that Clytemnestra was a good woman to start with,* but 
 with all my respect for his great services to Homeric literature, 
 I cannot think that he has hit upon the right explanation. It 
 should not be forgotten, moreover, that this extenuation of 
 Clytemnestra’s guilt belongs to a part of the Odyssey that 
 was engrafted on to the original design—ra part in which, as I 
 shall show later, there was another woman’s guilt, which was 
 only not extenuated because it was absolutely denied in the 
 face of overwhelming evidence—1 mean Penelope’s. 
 
 The second case in point is that of the woman who stole 
 Eumieus when he was a child. A few days after she has done 
 this, and has gone on board the ship with the Phoenician 
 traders, she is killed by Diana, and thrown overboard to the 
 seals and fishes (xv. 403-484)., 
 
 The third case is that of the women of Ulysses^ household 
 who had misconducted themselves with the suitors during his 
 absence. We are told that there were fifty women servants 
 in the house, of whom twelve alone were guilty. It is curious 
 that the number of servants should be exactly the same as 
 that of the maidservants in the house of king Alcinous, and it 
 should be also noted that twelve is a very small number for 
 the guilty servants, considering that there were over a hundred 
 suitors, and that the maids seem to have been able to leave 
 the house by night when they chose to do so (xx. 6-8)—true, 
 we are elsewhere told that the women had been violated and 
 only yielded under compulsion, but this makes it more wonder¬ 
 ful that they should be so few—and I may add, more terribly 
 severe to hang them. I think the laxity of prehistoric times 
 would have prompted a writer who was. not particularly 
 jealous for the honour of woman, to have said that there were 
 thirty-eight, or even more, guilty, and only twelve innocent, 
 We must bear in mind on the other hand that when Euryclea 
 brought out the thirty-eight innocent women to see Ulysses 
 
 ^ Cindies on Homer and the Homeric age ,—Oxford University Press 1858, p, 28. 
 
118 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 after lie had killed the suitors, Ulysses recognised them all 
 (xxii. 501). The youngest of them therefore can hardly have 
 been under forty, and some no doubt were older—for Ulysses 
 had been gone twenty years. 
 
 How how are the guilty ones treated ? A man who was 
 speaking of my theory that the Odyssey was written by a 
 woman as a mere mauvaise plaisanterie, once told me it was 
 absurd, for the first thing a woman would have thought of 
 after the suitors had been killed was the dining room carpet. 
 I said that mutatis mutandis this was the very thing she did 
 think of. 
 
 As soon as Ulysses has satisfied himself that not a single 
 suitor is left alive, he tells Euryclea to send him the guilty 
 maidservants, and on their arrival he says to Telemachus, 
 Enmasus and Philoetius (xxii. 437-443) 
 
 “ Begin to bear away the corpses, and make the women help 
 you. When you have done this, sponge down the seats and tables, 
 till you have set the whole house in order; then take the maids 
 outside .... and thrust them through with your swords.” 
 
 These orders are faithfully obeyed ; the maids help in the 
 work of removing the bodies and they sponge the chairs and 
 tables till they are clean—Ulysses standing over them and 
 seeing that they lose no time. This done, Telemachus (whose 
 mother, we are told (xxii. 426-427) had never yet permitted 
 him to give orders to the female servants) takes them outside 
 and hangs them (xxii. 462), as a more dishonourable death 
 than the one his father had prescribed for them—perhaps also 
 he may have thought he should have less blood to clean up than 
 if he stabbed them—but see note on p. 98. The writer tells us 
 in a line which she borrows in great part from the Iliad,^ that 
 their feet move convulsively for a short time though not for 
 very long, but her ideas of the way in which Telemachus 
 hanged them are of the vaguest. No commentator has ever yet 
 been able to understand it ; the only explanation seems to be 
 that the writer did not understand it herself, and did not care 
 to do so. Let it suffice that the women were obviously hanged. 
 
 * Od. xxii. 473, cf.Jl. xiii. 573. 
 
HAS NO MERCY ON THE FALLEN^ 119 
 
 ^^0 man writing in pre-Cliristian times would have con¬ 
 sidered the guilt of the women to require so horrible a 
 punishment. He might have ordered them to he killed, hot 
 he would not have carried his indignation to the point of 
 making them first clean up the blood of their paramours. 
 Fierce as the writer is against the suitors, she is far more so 
 against the women. When the suitors are all killed, Euryclea 
 begins to raise a cry of triumph over them, hut Ulysses checks 
 her. “ Hold your tongue, woman,” he says, “it is ill bragging 
 over the bodies of dead men” (xxii. 411), So also it is ill 
 getting, the most hideous service out of women up to the very 
 moment when they are to be executed ; but the writer seems 
 to have no sense of this ; where female honour has been 
 violated by those of woman’s own sex, no punishment .is too 
 bad for them. 
 
 The other chief characteristics of the Odyssey which in¬ 
 cline me to ascribe it to a woman are a kind of art for art’s 
 sake love of a small lie, and a determination to have things 
 both ways whenever it suits her purpose. This never seems to 
 trouble her. There the story is, and the reader may take it or 
 leave it. She loves flimsy disguises and mystifications that 
 stultify themselves, and mystify nobody. To go no further 
 than books i. and iii., Minerva in each of these tells plausible 
 stories full of circumstantial details, about her being on her 
 way to Temesa with a cargo of iron and how she meant to 
 bring back copper (i. 184), and again how she was going to the 
 Cauconians on the following morning to recover a large debt 
 that had been long owing to her (iii. 366), and then, before the 
 lies she had been at such pains to concoct are well out of her 
 mouth she reveals herself by flying into the air in the form of 
 an eagle. This, by the way, she could not well do in either 
 case if she was in a roofed hall, but might be conceived as 
 doing if, as I suppose her to have been in both cases, she was 
 in a roofed cloister that ran round an open court. 
 
 There is a flavour of consecutive fifths in these flights,^ if 
 
 * I should explain to the non-musical writer that it is fordidden in music to have 
 consecutive fifths or octaves between the same partSi 
 
12Q THE AUTHORESS OE THE OUYSSEY. 
 
 indeed they are not downright octaves, and I cannot but think 
 'that the writer would have found a smoother progression open 
 to her if she had cared to look for one; but letting this pass, 
 the way in which white lies occur from the first book to the 
 last, the punctiliousness, omnipresent, with which small 
 religious observances are insisted upon, coupled with not a 
 iittle unscrupulousness when these have been attended to, the 
 respect for gods and omens, and for the convenances generally 
 •—all these seem to me to be more characteristic of a woman’s 
 writing than a‘man’s, 
 
 The seriousness, again, with which Telemachus is taken, 
 the closeness with which he adheres to his programme, the 
 precision with which he invariably does, what his father, his 
 paother, Minerva, or any responsible person tells him that he 
 should do, except in one passage which is taken almost 
 verbativ} from the Iliad* the way in which Minerva beautifies 
 him and preaches to him ; the unobtrusiye but exemplary 
 manner in which he discharges all his religious, rnoral, and 
 social duties—all seem to me to point in the direction of 
 thinking that the writer is a womap and a young one. 
 
 How does Minerva preach to him ? When he has washed 
 his hands in the sea’ he prays that she will help Mm on his 
 intended voyage in search of news concerning his father. The 
 goddess tlien comes up to him disguised as Mentor, and speaksi 
 as follows : 
 
 Telemachus, if you are made of the same stiiff as your father 
 you will be neither fool or coward henceforward, for Ulysses never 
 broke his word nor left his work half done. If, then, you take 
 after him your voyage will not be fruitless, but unless you have the 
 blood of Ulysses and Penelope in your veins I see no likelihood of 
 your succeeding. Sons are seldom as good men as their fathers; 
 they are generally worse not better; still, as you are not going te 
 be either fool or coward henceforward, and are not entirely without 
 some share of your father’s wise discernment, I look with hope 
 upon yp.ur undertaking ” (ii. 270-280). 
 
 * Od. i. 356-359, cf. II. vi. 490-493. The word “ war ” in the Iliad Tbecoyiei 
 \K speech in the Odyssey. There is no other change. 
 
LOVE OF PREACHING. 
 
 121 
 
 Hence the grandmotherly reputation which poor Mentor is 
 never likely to lose, It was not Mentor hut Minerva. The 
 writer does not make Minerva say that daughters were rarely 
 as good women as their mothers were, I had a very dear kind 
 old aunt who when I was a boy used to talk to me just in this 
 way, “Unstable as water,” she would say, “thou shalt not 
 excel.” I almost heard her saying it (and iiiore to the same 
 effect) when I was translating the passage above given. My 
 uncles did not talk to me at all in the same way, 
 
 I may add parenthetically here, but will deal with the 
 subject more fully in a later chapter, that all the time Minerva 
 was lecturing Telemachus she must have known that his going 
 would be worse than useless, inasmuch as Ulysses was, by her 
 own arrangements, on the very eve of his return ; and indeed 
 he was back again in Ithaca before Telemachus got home. 
 
 See, again, the manner in which Penelope scolds him in 
 Book ?;Yiii, 215 &c., for having let Ulysses and Irus fight. 
 She says 
 
 “ Telemachus, I fear you are no longer so discreet and well 
 conducted as you used to be. When you were younger you had a 
 greater sense of propriety; now, however, that you are grown up, 
 though a stranger to look at you would take you for the son of a 
 well-to-do father as far as size and good looks go, your conduct is 
 by no means what it should have been, What is all this disturbance 
 that has been going on, and how came you to allow a stranger to 
 be so disgracefully ill-treated ? What would have happened if he 
 had suffered serious injury while a suppliant in our house ? Surely 
 this would have been very discreditable to you.” 
 
 I do not believe any n^an could make a mother rebuke her 
 pon so femininely. 
 
 Again, the fidelity with which people go on crying 
 incessantly for a son who has been lost to them for twenty 
 years, though they have still three sons left,* or for a brother 
 whom they have never even seen,t is part and parcel of that 
 jealousy for the sanctity of domestic life, in respect of which 
 women are apt to be more exacting than men. 
 
 * Od. ii. 15-23. f Od, iv. 186-188. Neither of these passages is given in my 
 abridgement, 
 
122 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 And yet in spite of all this the writer makes Telemachns 
 take no pains to hide the fact that his grievance is not so much 
 the alleged ill-treatment of his mother, nor yet the death of his 
 father, as the hole which the extravagance of the suitors is 
 making in his own pocket. When demanding assistance from 
 his fellow countrymen, he says, of the two great evils that have 
 fallen upon his house 
 
 “The first of these is the loss of my excellent father, who was 
 chief among all you here present and was like a father to every one 
 of you. The second is much more serious, and ere long will he the 
 utter ruin of my estate. The sons of all the chief men among you 
 are pestering my mother to marry them against her will. They are 
 afraid to go to her father Icarius, asking him to choose the one he 
 likes best, and to provide marriage gifts for his daughter, but day 
 after day they keep hanging about my father^s house, sacrificing 
 our oxen, sheep, and fat goats for their banquets, and never giving 
 so much as a thought to the quantity of wine they drink. No 
 estate can stand such recklessness (ii. 46-48).” 
 
 Moreover it is clear throughout Books iii. and iv., in which 
 Telemachns is trying to get news of his father, that what he 
 really wants is evidence of his death, not of his being alive, 
 though this may only be because he despairs of the second 
 alternative. The indignation of Telemachns on the score of 
 the extravagance of the suitors is noticeably shared by the 
 writer all through the poem; she is furious about it; perhaps 
 
 reason of the waste she saw going on in her father’s house. 
 Under all she says on this, head we seem to feel the rankling 
 of a private grievance, and it often crosses my mind that in the 
 suitors she also saw the neighbours who night after night 
 came sponging on the reckless good nature of Alcinous, to the 
 probable eventual ruin of his house. 
 
 Woman, religion, and money are the three dominant ideas 
 in the mind of the writer of the Odyssey, In the Iliad the 
 belli causa is a woman, money is a detail, and man is most 
 in evidence. In the Odyssey the belli causa is mainly money> 
 and woman is most in evidence—often when she does not 
 appear to be so—just as in the books of the Iliad in which the 
 
MONKY IN ILIAD AND IN ODYSSEY. 
 
 123 
 
 Trojans are sa23posed to be most triiimpliant over tbe Acb^ans, 
 it is the Trojans all the time whose slaughter is most dwelt 
 upon. 
 
 It is strange that the Odyssey, in which money is so 
 constantly present to the mind of the writer, should show 
 not even the faintest signs of having been written from a 
 business point of view, whereas the Iliad, in which money 
 appears but little, abounds with evidence of its having been 
 written to take with a certain audience whom the writer both 
 disliked and despised—and hence of having been written with 
 an eye to money. 
 
 I will now proceed to the question whether Penelope is 
 being, if I may say so, whitewashed. Is the version of her 
 conduct that is given us in the Odyssey the then current one, 
 or is the writer manipulating a very different story, and putting 
 another face on it—as all poets are apt to do with any story 
 that they are re-telling ? Tennyson, not to mention many 
 earlier writers, has done this with the Arthurian Legends, the 
 original form of which takes us into a moral atmosphere as 
 different as can well be conceived from the one we meet with 
 in the Idylls of the King. 
 
 There is no improbability (for other instances will occur to 
 the reader so readily that I need not quote them) in the 
 supposition that the writer of the Odyssey might choose to 
 recast a story which she deemed insulting to her sex, as well 
 as disgusting in itself; the question is, has she done so or not ? 
 Do traces of an earlier picture show up through the oue she 
 has painted over it, so distinctly as to make it obvious what 
 the original picture represented ? If they do not, I will give 
 up my case, but if they do, I shall hold it highly improbable 
 that a man in the Homeric age would undertake the impossible 
 task of making Penelope at the same time plausible and 
 virtuous. I am afraid I think he would be likely to make her 
 out blacker than the last poet who had treated the subject, 
 rather than be at any pains to whiten her. 
 
 Least of all would Homer himself have been prompted to 
 make Penelope out better than report says she was. He would 
 not have cared whether she was better or worse. He is fond of 
 
124' THE AUTHORESS OF .THE ODYSSEY/ 
 
 women, but be is also fond of teasing them, and he shows not 
 ' the slightest sigris of ^^ny jealousy for female honour, or of a 
 desire to exalt women generally. He shows no more sign of 
 this than he does of the ferocity with which punishment is 
 inflicted on the women of Ulysses’ household—a ferocity which 
 is in itself sufficient to make it inconceivable that the Iliads 
 ^nd the Odyssey^ should be by the same person, 
 
( 125 ) 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 'ON THE QUESTION WHETHER OR NO PENELOPE IS BEING} 
 
 WHITEWASHED. 
 
 It is known that scandalous versions of Penelope’s conduct 
 were current among the ancients: indeed they seem to have 
 prevailed before the completion of the Epic cycle, for in the 
 Telegony^ which is believed to have come next in chronological 
 order after the Odyssey^ we find that when Ulysses had killed 
 the suitors he did not go on living with Penelope, but settled 
 in Thesprotia, and married Callidice, the queen of the country* 
 He must, thereforej have divorced Penelope, and he could 
 hardly have done this if he accepted the Odyssean version of 
 her conduct. According to the author of the Telegony^^ 
 Penelope and Telemachus go on living in Ithaca, where 
 eventually Ulysses returns and is killed by Telegonus, a son 
 who had been born to him by Circe. For further reference 
 to ancient, though a good deal later, scandalous versions, see 
 Smithes Dictionary under “ Penelope*” 
 
 Let us see what the Odyssey asks us to believe^ or rather, 
 swallow. We are told that more than a hundred young men 
 fall violently in love, at the same time, with a supposed widow^ 
 who before the close of their suit can hardly have been under 
 forty, and who had a grown up son—pestering her for several 
 years with addresses that they know are most distasteful to 
 her. They are so madly in love with her that they cannot 
 think of proposing to any one else (ii. 205-207) till she has 
 made her choice. When she has done this they will go ; till 
 then, they will pay her out for her cruel treatment of them by 
 eating her son Telemachus out of house and home. ThiSj 
 therefore, they proceed to do, and Penelope, who is a model 
 both wife and mother, suffers agonies of grief, partly because 
 of the death of her husband, and partly because she cannot get 
 the suitors out of the house* 
 
126 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 One would have thought all she had to do was to bolt the 
 doors as soon as the suitors had left for the night, and refuse 
 to open them in the morning ; for the suitors never sleep in the 
 same house with Penelope. They sleep at various places in 
 the town, in the middle of which Ulysses’ house evidently 
 stands, and if they were meek enough to let themselves be 
 turned out, they would be meek enough to let themselves be 
 kept out, if those inside showed anything of a firm front. Not 
 one of them ever sees Penelope alone; when she conies into 
 their presence she is attended by two respectable female 
 servants who stand on either side of her, and she holds a 
 screen or veil modestly before her face—true, she was forty, 
 but neither she nor the poetess seem to bear this in mind, so 
 we may take it as certain that it was modesty and nothing 
 else that made her hold up the veil. The suitors were not men 
 of scrupulous delicacy, and in spite of their devotion to 
 Penelope lived on terms of improper intimacy with her women 
 servants—none of whom appear to have been dismissed in¬ 
 stantly on detection. It is a little strange that not one of 
 those suitors who came from a long distance should have 
 insisted on being found in bed as well as board, and so much 
 care is taken that not one breath of scandal should attach to 
 Penelope, that we infer a sense on the writer’s part that it was 
 necessary to put this care well in evidence. I cannot think, 
 for example, that Penelope would have been represented as 
 nearly so incredulous about the return of Ulysses in Book xxiii,, 
 if she had been nearly as virtuous as the writer tries to make 
 her out. The amount of caution with which she is credited is 
 to some extent a gauge of the thickness of the coat of white¬ 
 wash which the writer considers necessary. In all Penelope’s 
 devotion to her husband there is an ever present sense that 
 the lady doth protest too much. 
 
 Still stranger, however, is the fact that these ardent 
 passionate lovers never quarrel among themselves for the 
 possession of their middle-aged paragon. The survival of the 
 fittest does not seem to have had any place in their system. 
 They show no signs of jealousy, but jog along cheek by jowl 
 as a very happy family, aiming spears at a mark, playing 
 
THE WHITEWASHING OF PENELOPE. 
 
 127 
 
 draiiglits, flaying goats and singeing pigs in the yard, drinking 
 an untold quantity of wine, and generally holding high feast. 
 They insist that Penelope should marry somebody, but who the 
 happy somebody is to be is a matter of no importance * one 
 seems to think it essential that she shall marry himself in par¬ 
 ticular. Not one of them ever finds out that his case is hopeless 
 and takes his leave ; and thus matters drift on year after year— 
 during all which time Penelope is not getting any younger— 
 the suitors dying of love for Penelope, and Penelope dying 
 only to be rid of them. 
 
 Granted that the suitors are not less in love with the good 
 cheer they enjoy at Telemachus’s expense, than they are with 
 his mother ; but this mixture of perfect lover and perfect 
 sponger is so impossible that no one could have recourse to it 
 unless aware that he (or she) was in extreme difficulty. If 
 men are in love they will not sponge; if they sponge they are 
 not in love ; we may have it either way but not both ; when, 
 therefore, the writer of the Odyssey not only attributes such 
 impossible conduct to the suitors, but asks us also to believe 
 that a clever woman could not keep at any rate some few of 
 her hundred lovers out of the house, although their presence 
 had been for many years in a high degree distasteful to her^ 
 we may know that we are being hoodwinked as far as the 
 writer can hoodwink us, and shall be very inclinable to believe 
 that the suitors were not so black, nor Penelope so white, as we 
 are being given to understand. , 
 
 As for her being overawed by the suitors, she talks very 
 plainly to them at times, as for example in xviii. 274-280, and 
 again in xix. 322 where she speaks as though she were 
 perfectly able to get rid of any suitor who was obnoxious 
 to her. 
 
 Over and above this we may infer that the writer who can 
 tell us such a story with a grave face cannot have even the 
 faintest conception of the way in which a man feels towards a 
 woman he is in love with, nor yet much (so far as I may 
 venture to form an opinion) of what women commonly feel 
 
 * Od. ii. 127-128 and 203-207. 
 
128 
 
 Me authoress of the odyssey. 
 
 towards the man of their choice; I conclude, therefore, that 
 she was still very young, and unmarried. At any rate the 
 story told above cannot have been written by Homer ; if it is 
 by a mail at all it must be by some prehistoric Fra Angelico, 
 who had known less in his youth, or forgotten more in his old 
 age, than the writer of the Iliad is at all likely to have done. 
 If he had still known enough to be able to write the Odyssey^ 
 he would have remembered more than the writer of the 
 Odyssey shows any sigHs of having ever known; 
 
 A man, if he had taken it into his head (as the late Lord 
 Tennyson might very conceivably have done) to represent 
 Penelope as virtuous iu spite Of Current scandalous stories to 
 the contrary—a man, would not have made the suitors a band 
 of lovers at all. He would have seen at once that this was 
 Out of the question, and would have made them mere 
 marauders, who overawed Penelope by their threats^ and were 
 only held in check by heT mother wit and by, say, some three 
 or four covert allies among the suitors themselves. Do what 
 he might he could not make the permanent daily presence of 
 the suitors plausible, but it would be possible; whereas the 
 combination of perfect sponger and perfect lover which is 
 offered us by the writer of the Odyssey is grotesquely im¬ 
 possible, nor do I imagine that she would have asked us to 
 accept it, but for her desire to exalt her sex by showing how a 
 clever woman can bring Rny number of men to her feet, hood¬ 
 wink them, spoil them, and in the end destroy them. This, how¬ 
 ever, is surely a woman’s theme rather than a man’s—at least 
 1 know of no male Writer who has attempted anything like it.- 
 
 We have now seen the story as told from Penelope’s point 
 of view; let us proceed to hear it from that of the suitors.- 
 We find this at the beginning of Book ii., and 1 will give 
 Antinous’s speech at fuller length than I have done in my 
 abridgement. After saying that Penelope had for years been 
 encouraging every single suitor by sending him flattering 
 messages (in which, by the way, Minerva fully corroborates 
 him in Book xiii. 379 - 381 ) he continues 
 
 “ And then there was that other trick she played us. She set 
 up a great tambour frame in her room, and began to work on an 
 
Penelope’s web, 
 
 1^29 
 
 enormous piece of fine needlework. ‘ Sweethearts,’ said she, 
 
 ‘ Ulysses is indeed dead, still, do not press me to marry again 
 immediately; wait—for 1 would not have my skill in needlework 
 perish unrecorded—till I have completed a pall for the hero Laertes, 
 to be ready against the time when death shall take him. He is 
 very rich, and the women of the place will talk if he is laid out 
 without a pall.’ 
 
 “ This was what she said, and we assented ; whereon we could see 
 her, working on her great web all day, but at night she would un¬ 
 pick the sticlies again by torchlight. She fooled us in this way for 
 three years and we never found her out, but as time wore on and 
 she was now in her fourth year, one of her maids, who knew what 
 she was doing, told us, and we caught her in tlie act of undoing 
 her work; so she had to finish it, whether she would or no. 
 
 ‘‘ The suitors, therefore, make you this answer, that both you 
 and the A^cheeans may' understand : ‘ Send your mother away, and 
 bid her marry the man of her own and her father’s choice,’ for I do 
 not know what will happen if she goes on plaguing us much longer 
 with the airs she gives herself on the score of the accomplishments 
 Minerva has taught her, and because she is so clever. We never 
 yet heard of such a woman. We know all about Tyro, Alcmena, 
 Mycene, and the famous women of old, but they were nothing to 
 your mother any one of them. It was not fair of her to treat us in 
 that way, and as long as she continues in the mind with which 
 heaven has now endowed her, so long shall we go on eating up 
 your estate; and I do not see why she should change, for it is she 
 who gets the honour and glory, and it is you, not she, who lose all 
 this substance. We however, will not go about our business, nor 
 anywhere else, till she has made her choice and married some one 
 or other of us” (ii. 93-128). 
 
 Roughly, then, the authoress’s version is that Penelope is 
 an injured innocent, and the suitors’, that she is an artful 
 heartless flirt who prefers having a hundred admirers rather 
 than one husband. Which comes nearest, not to the truth— 
 for we may be sure the suitors could have said a great deal 
 more than the writer chooses to say they said—but to the 
 original story which she was sophisticating, and retelling in a 
 way that was more to her liking ? The reader will have noted 
 that on this occasion the suitors seem to have been in the 
 house after nightfall. 
 
 K 
 
130 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 We cannot forget that when Telemachiis first told Minerva 
 about the suitors, he admitted that his mother had not point 
 blank said that she would not marry again. “ She does not,” 
 he says, “ refuse the hateful marriage, nor yet does she bring 
 matters to an end ” (i. 249, 250). Apparently not; but if not, 
 why not ? Not to refuse at once is to court courtship, and if 
 she had not meant to court it she seems to have been adept 
 enough in the art of hoodwinking men to have found some 
 means of “ briuging the matter to an end.” 
 
 Sending pretty little messages to her admirers was not 
 exactly the way to get rid of them. Did she ever try snubbing ? 
 Nothing of the kind is placed 'on record. Did she ever say, 
 “Well Antinous, whoever else I may marry, you may make 
 your mind easy that it will not be you.” Then there was 
 boring—did she ever try that ? Did she ever read them any 
 of her grandfather’s letters ? Did she sing them her own 
 songs, or play them music of her own composition ? I have 
 always found these courses successful when I wanted to get rid 
 of people. There are indeed signs that something had been 
 done in this direction, for the suitors say that they cannot 
 stand her high art nonsense and aesthetic rhodomontade any 
 longer, but it is more likely she had been trying to attract 
 than to repel. Did she set them by the ears by repeating with 
 embellishments what they had said to her about one another ? 
 Did she ask Antinous or Eurymachus to sit to her for her web 
 —give them a good stiff pose, make them stick to it, and talk 
 to them all the time ? Did she find errands for them to run, 
 and then scold them, and say she did not want them ? or 
 make them do commissions for her and forget to pay them, or 
 keep on sending them back to the shop to change things, and 
 they had given ever so much too much money and she wished 
 she had gone and done it herself? Did she insist on their 
 attending family worship ? In a word, did she do a single one 
 of the thousand things so astute a matron would have been at 
 no loss to hit upon if she had been in earnest about not wishing 
 to be courted ? With one touch of common sense the whole 
 fabric crumbles into dust. 
 
 Telemachus in his rejoinder to the suitors does not deny a 
 
PENELOPE USED NO DUE DILIGENCE, 
 
 131 
 
 single one of their facts. He does not deny that his mother 
 had been in the habit of sending them encouraging messages, 
 nor does he attempt to explain her conduct about the web. 
 This, then, being admitted, and it being also transparent that 
 Penelope had used no due diligence in sending her lovers to 
 the right about, can we avoid suspecting that there is a screw 
 loose somewhere, and that a story of very different character is 
 being manipulated to meet the exigencies of the writer ? And 
 shall we go very far wrong if we conclude that according to 
 the original version, Penelope picked out her web, not so much 
 in order to delay a hateful marriage, as to prolong a very 
 agreeable courtship ? 
 
 It was no doubt because Laertes saw what was going on that 
 he went to live in the country and left off coming into the town 
 (i. 189, 190), and Penelope probably chose the particular form 
 her work assumed in order to ensure that he should not come 
 near her. Why could she not set about making a pall for 
 somebody else ? Was Laertes likely to continue calling, when 
 every time he did so he knew that Euryclea would only tell 
 him her mistress was upstairs working at his pall, but she 
 would be down directly ? Do let the reader try and think it 
 out a little for himself. 
 
 As for Laertes being so badly off as Anticlea says he was 
 in Book xi., there is not one grain of truth in that story. The 
 writer had to make him out poor in order to explain his not 
 having interfered to protect Penelope, but Penelope’s excuse 
 for making her web was that he was a man of large property. 
 It is the same with the suitors. When it is desired to explain 
 Telemachus’s not having tried in some way to recover from 
 them, they are so poor that it would be a waste of money to 
 sue them ; when, on the other hand, the writer wants Penelope 
 to air her woman’s wit by getting presents out of them (xviii. 
 274-280), just before Ulysses kills them, they have any 
 amount of money. One day more, and she would have been 
 too late. The writer knew that very well, but she was not 
 going to let Penelope lose her presents. She evidently looks 
 upon man as fair game, which male writers are much less apt 
 to do. Of course the first present she receives is a new dress. 
 
132 
 
 THE AUTHOKESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 Returning to Laertes, lie must have had money, or how 
 could Ulysses be so rich ? Where did Ulysses’ money come 
 from ? He could hardly have made much before he went to 
 Troy, and he does not appear to have sent anything home 
 thence. Nothing has been heard from him, and in Book x.,* 
 he appears to be bringing hack his share of the plunder with 
 him—in which case it was lost in the shipwreck off the coast 
 of the Thrinacian island. He seems to have had a dowry of 
 some kind with Penelope, for Telemachus says that if he sends 
 his mother away he shall have to refund it to his grandfather 
 Icarius, and urges this fact as one of the reasons for not sending 
 her (ii. 132, 133); the greater part, however, of Ulysses’ 
 enormous wealth must have come to him from Laertes, who 
 we may he sure kept more for himself than he gave to his son. 
 What, then, had become of all this money—for Laertes seems 
 to have been a man of very frugal habits ? The answer is that 
 it was still in Laertes’ hands, and the reason for his never 
 coming to town now was partly, no doubt, the pall; partly 
 the scandalous life which his daughter was leading; hut 
 mainly the writer’s inability to explain his non-interference 
 unless she got him out of the way. 
 
 The account, again, which Ulysses’ mother gives him in 
 Hades (xi. 180, &c.) of what is going on in Ithaca shows a 
 sense that there is something to conceal. She says not one 
 word about the suitors. All she says is that Telemachus has 
 to see a good deal of company, which is only reasonable seeing 
 that he is a magistrate and is asked out everywhere himself 
 (xi. 185-187). Nothing can be more coldly euphemistic, nor 
 show a fuller sense that there was a good deal more going on 
 than the speaker chose to say. If Anticlea had believed her 
 daughter-in-law to be innocent, she would have laid the whole 
 situation before Ulysses. 
 
 It may be maintained that the suitors were not yet come 
 to Ithaca in force, for the visit to Hades occurs early in the 
 wanderings of Ulysses, and before his seven years’ sojourn 
 with Calypso, so that Anticlea may really have known nothing 
 
 it 
 
 * Od. X. 40, this passage is not given in my abridgement. 
 
ULYSSES’ MOTHER OH THE SITUATION. 133 
 
 about the suitors ; but the writer has forgotten this, and has 
 represented Telemachus as already arrived at man’s estate. 
 In truth, at this point Telemachus was at the utmost only 
 twelve or thirteen years old, and a children’s party was all the 
 entertainment he need either receive or give. The writer has 
 made a slip in her chronology, for throughout the poem Tele¬ 
 machus is r-epresented as only just arriving at man’s estate in 
 the twentieth year of Ulysses’ absence. It is evident that in 
 describing the interview with Anticlea the writer has in her 
 mind the state of things existing just before Ulysses’ return, 
 when the suitors were in full riot. This, indeed, appears still 
 more plainly lower down, when Agamemnon, also in Hades, 
 says that Telemachus was a baby in arms when the Trojan 
 war broke out, and that he must now be grown up (xi. 448, 449). 
 
 The silence therefore of Ulysses’ mother is wilful so far as 
 the writer is concerned. She must have conceived of Anticlea 
 as knowing all about the suitors perfectly well—for she did not 
 die till Telemachus was, by her own account, old enough to be a 
 magistrate. The explanation I believe to be, that at the time 
 Book xi. was written, the writer had as yet no intention of 
 adding Books i.-iv., and from line 187 of Book xiii. to Book xxiv. 
 but proposed to ignore the current scandalous stories about 
 Penelope, and to say as little as possible about her. I will deal 
 with this more fully when I come to the genesis and develop¬ 
 ment of the poem, but may as well say at once that the 
 difficulty above pointed out will have to remain unexplained 
 except as a slip in chronology on the part of a young writer 
 who was piecing new work on to old. Any one but the writer 
 herself would have seen it and avoided it; indeed it is 
 quite possible that she came to see it, and did not think it 
 worth her while to be at the trouble of altering it. If this is 
 so I, for one, shall think none the worse of her. 
 
( 134 ) 
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 FURTHER C0NSIDERATI0N8 REGARDING THE CHARACTER OF 
 PENELOPE—THE JOURNEY OF TELEMACHUS TO LACED^MON. 
 
 The question wlietlier or no tlie writer of the Odyssey is 
 putting her own construction on grosser versions of Penelope’s 
 conduct current among her countrymen, has such an impor¬ 
 tant hearing on that of the writer’s sex, that I shall bring 
 further evidence to show how impossible she finds it to conceal 
 the fact that those who knew Penelope best had no confidence 
 in her. 
 
 Minerva with quick womanly instinct took in the situation 
 at a glance, and went straight to the point. On learning from 
 Telemachus that Penelope did not at once say she would not 
 marry again, she wastes no words, but says promptly, “ If your 
 mother’s miud is set on marrying again” (and surely this 
 implies that the speaker had no doubt that it was so set) “ let 
 her go back to her father” (i. 276). From this we may infer 
 that Minerva had not only formed her own opinion about 
 Penelope’s intentions, but saw also that she meant taking her 
 time about the courtship, and was not likely to be brought to 
 the point by any measures less decisive than sending her back 
 to her father’s house. 
 
 We know, moreover, what Minerva thought of Penelope 
 from another source. Minerva appears to Telemachus in a 
 dream when he is staying with King Menelaus, and gives him 
 to understand that his mother is on the point of marrying 
 Eurymachus, one of the suitors (xv. 1-42). This was (so at 
 least we are intended to suppose) a wanton falsehood on 
 Minerva’s part. Nevertheless if the matter had ended there, 
 nothing probably would have pleased Telemachus better; for 
 in spite of his calling the marriage “ hateful,” there can be no 
 question that he would have been only too thankful to get his 
 mother out of the house, if she would go of her own free will. 
 
MINERVA ALARMS TELEMACHUS. 
 
 135 
 
 Penelope says lie was continually urging her to marry and 
 go, on the score of the expense he was being put to by the 
 protracted attentions of the suitors (xix. 530-534). Penelope 
 indeed seems to have been such an adept at lying that it is 
 very difficult to know when to believe her, but Telemachus 
 says enough elsewhere to leave no doubt that, in spite of a 
 certain decent show of reluctance, he would have been glad 
 that his mother should go. 
 
 Unfortunately Minerva’s story does not end with saying 
 that Penelope means marrying Eurymachus ; she adds that in 
 this case she will probably steal some of Telemachus’s pro¬ 
 perty, She says to him 
 
 “You know what women are; they always want to do the best 
 they can for the man who is married to them at the moment. They 
 forget all about their first husband and the children that they have 
 had by him. Go home, therefore, at once, and put everything in 
 charge of the most respectable housekeeper you can find, until it 
 shall please heaven to send you a wife of your own ’’ (xv. 20-26). 
 
 This passage not only betrays a want of confidence in 
 Penelope which is out of keeping with her ostensible antece¬ 
 dents, but it goes far to show that Minerva had read the 
 Cypria^ in which poem (now lost) we are told that Helen did 
 exactly what is here represented as likely to be done by 
 Penelope; but leaving this, surely if Penelope’s antecedents 
 had been such as the writer wishes us to accept, Telemachus 
 would have made a very different answer to the one he actually 
 made. He would have said, “ My dear Minerva, what a word 
 has escaped the boundary of your teeth. My mother steal my 
 property and go off with an unprincipled scoundrel like 
 Eurymachus ? Ho one can know better than yourself that 
 she is the last woman in the world to be capable of such 
 conduct,” And then he would have awoke as from a hideous 
 dream. 
 
 What, however, happens in reality ? Telemachus does 
 indeed wake up (xv. 43) in great distress, but it is about his 
 property, not about his mother. “ Who steals my mother 
 steals trash, but whoso filches from me my family heirlooms 
 <fec.” He kicks poor Pisistratus to wake him, and says they 
 
138 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 must harness the horses and be off home at once. PisistratiiS 
 rejoins that it is pitch dark ; come what may they must really 
 wait till morning. Besides, they ought to say good bye to 
 Menelaus, and get a present out of him; he will be sure to 
 give them one, if Telemachus will not be in such an unreason¬ 
 able hurry. Can anything show more clearly what was the 
 inner mind both of Minerva and Telemachus about Penelope— 
 and also what kind of ideas the audience had formed about 
 her ? 
 
 How differently, again, do Minerva and Telemachus regard 
 the stealing. Telemachus feels it^acutely and at once. Minerva 
 takes it as a matter of course—but then the property was not 
 hers. The authoress of the Odyssey is never severe about 
 theft. Minerva evidently thinks it not nice of Penelope to 
 want to marry again before it is known for certain that 
 Ulysses is dead, but she explains that Eurymachus has been 
 exceeding all the other suitors in the magnificence of his 
 presents, and has lately increased them (xv. 17,18). After all, 
 Penelope had a right to please herself, and as long as she was 
 going to be honci fide married, she might steal as much as she 
 could, without loss of dignity or character. The writer put this 
 view into Minerva’s mouth as a reasonable one for a woman to 
 take. So perhaps it was, but it is not a man’s view. 
 
 Here I will close my case—as much of it, that is to say, as 
 I have been able to give in the space at my disposal—for 
 the view that the writer of the Odyssey was whitewashing 
 Penelope. As, however, we happen to be at Lacedaemon let 
 me say what more occurs to me in connection with the visit of 
 Telemachus to King Menelaus that bears on the question 
 whether the writer is a man or a woman. 
 
 When Telemachus and Kestor’s son Pisistratus reached 
 Lacedaamon at the beginning of Book iv., Menelaus was 
 celebrating the double marriage of his son Megapenthes and 
 of his daughter Hermione. The writer says — 
 
 .they reached the low lying city of Lacedsemon, 
 
 where they drove straight to the abode of Menelaus, [and found 
 him in bis own house feasting with his many clansmen in honour of 
 the wedding of his son, and also that of his daughter whom he was 
 
INTl^RPOLATED MARMAGE OF HERMIONE, 
 
 137 
 
 giving in marriage to the son of that valiant warrior Achilles. He 
 had given his consent and promised her to him while he was still at 
 Troy, and now the gods were bringing the marriage about, so he 
 was sending her with chariots and horses to the city of the 
 Myrmidons over whom Achilles’ son was reigning. For his only 
 son he had found a bride from Sparta, the daughter of Alector. 
 This son, Megapenthes, was born to him of a bondwoman, for 
 heaven had vouchsafed Helen no more children after she had borne 
 Hermione who was fair as golden Yenus herself (iv. 1-14). J 
 
 I have enclosed part of the above quotation in brackets not 
 because I have any doubt that the whole of it is by the same 
 hand as the rest of the poem, but because I am convinced that 
 the bracketed lines were interpolated by the writer after her 
 work had been completed, or at any rate after Books iv. and 
 XV. had assumed their present shape. The reason for the 
 interpolation I take to be that she could not forgive herself for 
 having said nothing about Hermione, whose non-appearance 
 in Book xv. and in the rest of Book iv. she now attempts to 
 explain by interpolating the passage above quoted, and thus 
 making her quit Lacedasmon for good and all at the very 
 beginning of this last named book. But whatever the cause 
 of the interpolation may have been, an interpolation it certainly 
 is, for nothing can be plainer from the rest of Book iv. than 
 that there were no festivities going on, and that the only 
 guests were uninvited ones—to wit Telemachus and Pisistratus. 
 
 True, the writer tried to cobble the matter by introducing 
 lines 621-624, which in our texts are always inclosed in 
 brackets as suspected—I suppose because Aristarchus marked 
 them with oheli^ though he did not venture to exclude them. 
 The cobble, however, only makes things worse, for it is obviously 
 inadequate, and its abruptness puzzles the reader. 
 
 Accepting, then, lines 2-19 and 621-624 of Book iv. as by 
 the writer of the rest of the poem, the reader will note how far 
 more interesting she finds the marriage of Hermione than that 
 of Megapenthes—of whose bride, by the way, there is no trace 
 in Book xv. The marriage of the son is indeed mentioned in 
 the first instance before that of the daughter ; but surely this 
 is only because vlko^ dvyarpo^ lends itself more readily to 
 
138 
 
 THE -AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 a hexameter verse than any transposition of the nouns would 
 do. Having mentioned that both son and daughter are to he 
 married, the writer at once turns to Hermione, and appears 
 only to marry Megapenthes because, as his sister is being 
 married, he may as well be married too. A male writer would 
 have married Megapenthes first and Hermione afterwards ; 
 nor would he have thought it worth while to make a very 
 awkward interpolation in his poem merely in order to bring 
 Hermione into it, for by this time she must have been over 
 thirty, and it would have been easy to suppose that she had 
 been married years ago during'Menelaus’s absence. 
 
 As regards the second and shorter interpolation (iv. 621-624), 
 it refers to the day after the pretended marriages, and runs a& 
 follows:— 
 
 Thus did they converse [and guests kept coming to the king’s 
 house. They brought sheep and wine, while their wives had put 
 up bread for them to take with them. So they were busy cooking 
 their dinners in the courts.,] 
 
 Passing over the fact that on such a great occasion as the- 
 marriage of his son and daughter, Menelaus would hardly 
 expect his quests to bring their own provisions with them 
 (though he might expect them as Alcinous did* to do their own 
 cooking) I would ask the reader to note that the writer cannot 
 keep the women out even from a mere cobble. A man might 
 have told us that the guests brought meat and wine and bread, 
 but his mind would not instinctively turn to the guests’ wivea 
 putting up the bread for them. 
 
 I say nothing about the discrepancy between the chronology 
 of Telemachus’s visit to Sparta, and of Ulysses’ journey from 
 the island of Calypso to Ithaca where he arrives one day before 
 Telemachus does. The reader will find it dwelt on in Colonel 
 Mure’s Language and Literature of Ancient Greece, Vol. I.,, 
 pp. 439, 440. I regard it as nothing more than a slip on the 
 p)art of a writer who felt that such slips are matters of very 
 
 * Od. viii. 38-40, cf. also 61. It would seem tliat Alcinous found the provisions 
 which the poorer guests cooked for themselves and ate outside in the court yards. 
 The magnates ate in the covered cloister, and were no doubt cooked for. 
 
COLLAPSE OF MENELAUs’ SPLENDOUR. 
 
 139 
 
 small importance; but I will call attention to the manner 
 in which the gorgeousness of Menelans’s establishment as 
 described in Book iv. has collapsed by the time we reach 
 Book XV., though as far as I can determine the length of 
 Telemachus’s stay with Menelaus, the interval between the 
 two books should not exceed one entire day. 
 
 When Telemachus has informed Menelaus that he must go 
 home at once, Menelaus presses his guests to stay and have 
 something to eat before they start; this, he tells them, will be 
 not only more proper and more comfortable for them, but also 
 cheaper. 
 
 We know from II. vii. 470-475 that Menelaus used to sell 
 wine when he was before Troy, as also did Agamemnon, but 
 there is a frank bourgoisie about this invitation which a male 
 writer would have avoided. Still franker, however, is the offer 
 of Menelaus to take them on a personally conducted tour round 
 the Peloponesus. It will be very profitable, for no one will 
 send them away empty handed; every one will give them 
 either a bronze tripod or a cauldron, or two mules, or a gold 
 chalice (xv. 75-85). As for the refreshments which they are 
 to have immediately, the king explains that they will have to 
 take potluck, but says he will tell the women to see that there 
 is enough for them, of what there might happen to be in the 
 house. 
 
 That is just like Menelaus’s usual fussiness. Why could he 
 not have left it all to Helen ?, After reading the Odyssey I 
 am not surprised at her having run away with Paris ; the only 
 wonder is that a second great war did not become necessary 
 very shortly after the Trojan matter had been ended. Surely 
 the fact that two young bachelors were going to stay and dine 
 was not such a frightful discord but that it might have been 
 taken unprepared, or at any rate without the monarch’s 
 personal interference. “ Of what there may be in the house ” 
 indeed. We can see that the dinner is not going to be pro¬ 
 fusely sumptuous. If there did not happen to be anything 
 good in the house—and I suspect this to have been the case— 
 Menelau-s should have trusted Helen to send out and get some¬ 
 thing. But there should have been no sending out about it; 
 
140 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 Menelaus and Helen ouglit never to have had a meal without 
 every conceivable delicacy. 
 
 What a come down, again, is there not as regards the butler 
 Eteoneiis. He was not a real butler at all—he was only a kind 
 of char-butler ; he did not sleep in the house (xv. 96), and for 
 aught we know may have combined a shop round the corner 
 with his position in Menelaus’ household. Worse than this, 
 he had no footman, not even a boy, under him, for Menelaus 
 tells him to light the fire and set about cooking dinner (xv. 
 97, 98), which he proceeds to do^ without one syllable of remon¬ 
 strance. What has become of Asphalion ? Where are the 
 men servants who attended to Telemachus and Pisistratus on 
 their arrival ? They have to yoke their own horses now. The 
 upper and under women servants who appear at all Odysseau 
 meals are here as usual, but we hear nothing more of Adraste, 
 Alcippe, and Phylo. It seems as though after describing the 
 splendour of Menelaus’s house in Book iv. the writer’s nerve 
 has failed her, and by Book xv. her instinctive thrift has re¬ 
 asserted itself. 
 
 And now let me return, as I said in Chapter iv. that I 
 intended doing, to the very singular—for I do not like to say 
 feminine—nature of the arrangements made by Minerva for her 
 protege in the matter of his voyage to Pylos and Lacedaemon. 
 
 When Minerva first suggested it to him, she knew that 
 Ulysses was on the point of starting from Calypso’s island for 
 Scheria, and would be back in Ithaca almost immediately. 
 Yet she must needs choose this particular moment, of all 
 others, for sending Telemachus on a perilous voyage in quest 
 of news concerning him. We have seen how she preached to 
 him ; but surely if Telemachus had known that she was all the 
 time doing her very utmost to make his voyage useless, he 
 might have retorted with some justice that whether he was 
 going to be a fool henceforward or no, he should not make such 
 a fool of any young friend of his own as she was now making 
 of himself. Besides, he was to be away, if necessary, for twelve 
 months; yet here before he has been gone more than four or 
 five days, Minerva fills him with an agony of apprehension 
 about his property and sends him post haste back to Ithaca again. 
 
WHY TELEMACHUS WAS SENT TO PYLOS. 
 
 141 
 
 The authoress seems to have felt the force of this, for in 
 xiii* 416-419 she makes Ulysses remonstrate with Minerva in 
 this very sense, and ask:— 
 
 “ Why did you not tell him, for you knew all about it ? Did 
 you want him, too, to go sailing about amid all kinds of hardships 
 when others were eating up his estate ? ” 
 
 Minerva answered, “Do not trouble yourself about him. I sent 
 him that he might be well spoken about for having gone. He is 
 in no sort of difficulty, but is staying comfortably with Menelaus, 
 and is surrounded with abundance of every kind. The suitors have 
 put out to sea and are on the watch for him, for they mean to kill 
 him before he can get home. I do not much think they will 
 succeed, but rather that some of those who are now eating up your 
 estate will first find a grave themselves.” 
 
 AVhat she ought to have said was :— 
 
 “You stupid man, can you not understand that my poetess had 
 set her heart on bringing Helen of Troy into her poem, and could 
 not see her way to this without sending Telemachus to Sparta ? I 
 assure you that as soon as ever he had interviewed Helen and 
 Menelaus, I took—or will take, for my poetess’s chronology puzzles 
 my poor head dreadfully—steps to bring him back at once.” 
 
 At the end of Book iv. Penelope shows a like tendency to 
 complain of the manner in which she is kept in the dark about 
 information that might easily have been vouchsafed to her. 
 
 Minerva has sent her a vision in the likeness of her sister 
 Ipthime. This vision comes to Penelope’s bedside and tells 
 her that her son shall come safely home again. She imme¬ 
 diately says :— 
 
 “ If, then, you are a goddess, or have heard news from Heaven 
 tell me about that other unhappy one. Is he still alive, or is he 
 dead and in the house of Hades ? ” 
 
 And the vision answered, “I shall not tell you for certain 
 whether he is alive or dead, and there is no use in idle conversation.” 
 
 On this it vanished through the thong-hole of the door. 
 
 I may add that I never quite understood the fastening of 
 the Odyssean bedroom door, till I found my bedroom at the 
 Hotel Centrale, Trapani, fastened in the Odyssean manner. 
 
( 142 ) 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 FURTHER IHDIOATIONS THAT THE WRITER IS A WOMAN— 
 YOUNG—HEADSTRONG-AND UNMARRIED. 
 
 I WILL now touch briefly oil the principal passages, over 
 and above large general considerations and the details to which 
 I have already called attention, which seem to me to suggest 
 a woman’s hand rather than a man’s. I shall omit countless 
 more doubtful instances, many of which the reader will have 
 noted, or easily discover. 
 
 At the very outset of the poem (i. 13) the writer represents 
 Ulysses as longing to get back to his wife. He had stayed a 
 whole year with Circe, and but for the remonstrances of his 
 men would have stayed no one can say how much longer. Ho 
 had stayed seven years with Calypso, and seems to have 
 remained on excellent terms with her until the exigencies of 
 the poem made it necessary to send him back to Ithaca. 
 Surely a man of his sagacity might have subtracted Calypso’s 
 axe and auger, cut down the trees at the far end of the island, 
 and made his raft years ago without her fluding out anything 
 about it; for she can hardly have wanted either axe or auger 
 very often. 
 
 As for the provisions, if Ulysses was not capable of accumu- 
 latiug a private hoard, his cunning has been much overrated. 
 If he had seriously wanted to get back to Penelope his little 
 cunning that is put in evidence would have been exercised in 
 this direction. I am convinced, therefore, that though the 
 authoress chooses to pretend that Ulysses was dying to get 
 back to Penelope, she knew perfectly well that he was in no 
 great hurry to do so; she was not, however, going to admit 
 anything so derogatory to the sanctity of married life, or at 
 any rate to the power which a wife has over her husband. 
 
OCCASIONAL NOTES. 
 
 143 
 
 An older woman might have been at less pains to conceal 
 the fact that Penelope’s hold on Ulysses was in reality very 
 slight, bnt the writer of the Odyssey is nothing if she is not 
 young, self-willed, and unmarried. No matron would set her¬ 
 self down to write the Odyssey at all. She would have too 
 much sense, and too little daring. She would have gained too 
 much—and lost too greatly in the gaining. The poem is such 
 a tour de force as none hut a high-spirited, headstrong girl 
 who had been accustomed to have her own way would have 
 attempted, much less carried to such a brilliantly successful 
 conclusion; I cannot, therefore, conceive the writer as older 
 than the original of the frontispiece at the beginning of this 
 book—if indeed she was so old. 
 
 The very beautiful lines in which the old nurse Euryclea 
 lights Telemachus to bed, and folds up his clothes for him 
 (i. 428-442), suggest a woman’s hand rather than a man’s. So 
 also does the emphasising Laertes’ respect for his wife’s feelings 
 (i. 430-433). This jealousy for a wife’s rights suggests a writer 
 who was bent on purifying her age, and upholding a higher 
 ideal as regards the relations between husband and wife than 
 a man in the Homeric age would be likely to insist on. 
 
 The price paid for Euryclea (i. 431) is, I do not doubt, a 
 rejoinder to the Iliadic insults of xxiii. 262-264, in which a 
 woman and a tripod are put up in one lot as a prize, and also 
 of XXIII. 702-705, in which a tripod is represented as worth 
 twelve oxen, and a good serviceable maid of all work only four 
 oxen. A matron would have let Homer’s passage severely 
 alone, and a man would not have resented it so strongiy as to 
 make him write at it by declaring Euryclea to have been 
 bought for twenty oxen. 
 
 An Iliadic passage of some length is interrupted (iii. 448-455) 
 for the purpose of bringing in Nestor’s wife and daughters, and 
 describing their delight at seeing a heifer killed; the Iliadic 
 passage is then resumed. A man, or older woman, once 
 
144 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 , launched on an Iliadic passage would have stuck to it till 
 it failed them. They would not have cared whether the ladies 
 of I^’estor’s household liked seeing the heifer killed or no. 
 
 When Helen mixes Nepenthe with the wine which was to 
 be handed round to Menelaus, Telemachus, and Pisistratus, we 
 learn its virtues to be so powerful that a man could not weep 
 during all the day on which he had drunk it, not even though 
 he had lost both his father and his mother, or had seen a 
 brother or a son cut to pieces before his eyes (iv. 220-226). 
 Prom the order in which these TelationshijDs present themselves 
 to the writer’s mind I opine that her father and mother were 
 the most important persons in her world, and hence that she 
 was still young and unmarried. 
 
 A little lower we find Helen more or less penitent for having 
 run away with Paris. Helen was Jove’s own daughter, and 
 therefore had a right to do pretty much as she chose; still it 
 was held better to redeem her as far as ]30ssible, by making her 
 more or less contrite. The contrition, however, is of a very 
 curious kind. It was Venus, it seems, who ought to be peni¬ 
 tent for having done Helen so great a wrong. It is the wrong 
 that has been done to her that she laments, rather than any 
 misdoing of her own. 
 
 Is a man, or matron, likely to have conceived the idea of 
 making Helen walk round the wooden horse, pat it, call out 
 the names of the heroes who were inside, and mimick the voices 
 of their wives (iv. 274-279) ? Ulysses must have told her that 
 the horse was coming, and what it would contain, when he 
 entered Troy in disguise and talked with her. A man might 
 have made Helen walk round the horse, pat it, and even call 
 out the names of the heroes, but he would never have thought 
 of making her mimick their wives. 
 
 The writer finds the smell of fish intolerable, and thinks it 
 necessary to relieve Menelaus and his three men from a dis¬ 
 tressing situation, by getting Idothea to put some scent under 
 
OCCASIONAL NOTES. 
 
 145 
 
 each man’s nostrils (iv. 441-446). There is, however, an 
 arriere pensee here to which I will call attention later (see 
 Chapter xii. near the end). Very daughterly also is the 
 pleasure which Idothea evidently feels in playing a trick upon 
 her father. Fathers are fair game—at all events for young 
 goddesses. 
 
 The whole of iv. 625-847 is strongly suggestive of a woman’s 
 writing, but I cannot expect any one to admit this without 
 reading either the original or some complete translation. 
 
 Calypso’s jealously of Penelope (v. 203, &c.) is too prettily 
 done for a man. A man would be sure to overdo it. 
 
 Book vi. is perhaps the loveliest in the whole poem, but I 
 can hardly doubt that if it were given to a Times critic of 
 to-day as an anonymous work, and he was told to determine 
 the sex of the writer he would ascribe it to a young unmarried 
 woman without a moment’s hesitation. Let the reader note 
 how Nausicaa has to keep her father up to having a clean 
 shirt on when he ought to have one (vi. 60), whereas her 
 younger brothers appear to keep her up to having one for them 
 when they want one. These little touches suggest drawing 
 from life by a female member of Alcinous’ own family who 
 knew his little ways from behind the scenes. 
 
 Take, again, the scene in which Ulysses first meets 
 Nausicaa. A girl, such a girl as Nausicaa herself, young, un¬ 
 married, unattached, and without knowledge of what men 
 commonly feel on such points, having by a cruel freak of 
 fortune got her hero into such an awkward predicament, might 
 conceivably imagine that he would argue as the writer of the 
 Odyssey has made Ulysses do, but no man, except such a 
 woman’s tailor as could never have written the Odyssey^ would 
 have got his hero into such an undignified position at all, 
 much less have made him talk as Ulysses is made to talk. 
 
 How characteristic, again, of the man-hatress is Nausicaa’s 
 
 L 
 
146 
 
 THE AETHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 ' attempt to make ont that in Ulyssses she had found a man to 
 whom she really might become attached—if there were no 
 obstacle to their union. 
 
 I find it hard to pass over Book vii., especially line 230, &c., 
 where Arete wants to know how Ulysses came by his clothes, 
 and 294, in which it is said that young people are apt to be 
 thoughtless. Surely this is a girl giving a rap on the knuckles 
 to older people, by echoing what she is accustomed to hear 
 them say. 
 
 In Book viii. the games, which are no doubt suggested by 
 those in II, xxiii. are merely labelled “ sports,” not a single 
 detail being given except that Ulysses’ disc made a sound of 
 some sort as it went through the air (viii. 190), which I do not 
 believe it would do. In the Iliad details are given of every 
 contest, and the games do not take place as they do in the 
 Odyssey immediately after a heavy meal, from which we can 
 hardly suppose that the competitors would be excluded. 
 
 I say nothing about the modesty of the female goddesses in 
 not coming to see Mars and Yenus caught in the toils of 
 Vulcan (viii. 324), nor yet about the lovely new dress with 
 which the Graces consoled Yenus when she had been liberated 
 (viii. 366), for I have omitted the whole of this episode in my 
 abridgement. 
 
 The love of her own home and parents which is so obvious 
 throughout the poem is never more apparent than in the speech 
 of Ulysses (ix. 34-36). He says that however fine a house a 
 man may have in a foreign land, he can never be really happy 
 away from his father and mother. How different this from 
 the saying which Aristophanes puts into the mouth of Mercury 
 [Pint. 1151) to the effect that a man’s fatherland is any place 
 in which he is making money; or again from Euripides, who 
 in a fragment of Phaethon says that a man’s fatherland is any 
 land that will feed him. It is only a young and affectionate 
 girl who could have made Ulysses (who is not much given to 
 
OCCASIONAL NOTES. 
 
 147 
 
 sentiment) speak so warmly. Middle-aged people, whether 
 men or women, are too much spotted with the world to he able 
 to say such things. They think as Aristophanes and Euripides 
 do. 
 
 In lines 120, 121 of Book ix. the writer tells us that hunts¬ 
 men as a general rule will face all sorts of hardship in forest 
 and on mountain top. This is quite true, but it is not the way 
 in which men speak of chamois-hunters* 
 
 As for the Cyclops incident, delightful as it is, it is 
 impossible as a man or matron’s writing. It was very kind of 
 Polyphemus, drunk though he was, to stay without moving a 
 muscle, till Ulysses and his men had quite finished boring out 
 his eye with a burning beam that was big enough for a ship’s 
 mast, but Baron Munchausen is the only male writer who 
 could offer us anything of the kind, and his is not a case in 
 point. Neither, after all, is Book ix. of the Odyssey^ for the 
 writer is not taking Polyphemus seriously. 
 
 The distress which Polyphemus caused to Ulysses and his 
 men by fiinging down a bundle of firewood is too graphic a 
 touch not to have been drawn from life* I have often fancied 
 that the whole Cyclops incident may have been suggested by 
 one of those merende^ or pic-nics which Italians and Sicilians 
 are still so fond of, and that the writer of the Odyssey went 
 with her friends to Pizzolungo and the cave where the scene is 
 laid, which was then really much what an alpe is now—an 
 abode of shepherds who made cheese in the cave itself* I like 
 to fancy (for I know that it is nothing more than fancy) that 
 the writer of the Odyssey was delighted with all she saw, but 
 that as she was looking at the milk dishes some huge unkempt 
 shepherd came in with a load of firewood on his back, and gave 
 a sudden shock to her nervous system by fiinging it down too 
 violently. Him she transformed into the local giant that exists 
 on Mt. Eryx now under the name of Conturrano.* 
 
 L 2 
 
 * See Chapter x. 
 
148 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 It is very hard to say what the authoress thought that 
 Polyphemus did in the matter of his ewes and lambs. The 
 lambs were in the yards all day, for Ulysses’ men saw them 
 there and wanted to steal them (ix. 226, 227). Besides, Poly¬ 
 phemus could not have got any milk from the ewes if their 
 lambs had been with them in the day-time. Having driven 
 the ewes into his cave (I omit the she-goats for brevity) he 
 milked them, and then put their lambs with them (ix. 245). 
 The question is, did he take them away again after they had 
 got what they could from a milked ewe, or did he leave them 
 with their mothers all night ? 
 
 On the one hand we have no hint of their removal, which 
 would be a long and troublesome task; on the other we are 
 told in line 309 that he milked the ewes in the morning, and 
 again gave each one of them her lamb; on the evening of the 
 same day he repeats this process (line 342), and he could 
 hardly give the ewes their lambs unless he had first removed 
 them. 
 
 The difficulty is that if he removed them they would 
 certainly die in a very few days of such diet as Polyphemus 
 allows them, for whatever he did was Kara fiolpav, according 
 to his usual practice; while if he did not remove them, he 
 could not have got any milk. Whatever he did, we may be 
 sure that the writer of the Odyssey had got it wrong, and 
 there is not much to be gained by trying to find out what she 
 thought, for it is obvious that she did not think. 
 
 I asked my friend, Sigr. Giuseppe Pagoto of Mt. Eryx, 
 what was the practise of Sicilian shepherds now, and received 
 the following answer :— 
 
 In Sicily they do not milk ewes that have lately lambed; they 
 keep the lambs shut up and take the ewes to feed. In the evening 
 they let the lambs suck, and then shut them up again. During the 
 night the ewes make a great deal of milk, and this is again sucked 
 by the lambs in the morning, and not milked. Our shepherds do 
 not take any of the milk until the lamb has been killed. Perhaps 
 in those days the pastures were so abundant that the ewes gave 
 milk enough to nourish the lambs, and still have some for milking. 
 This is the only way in which what Polyphemus did can be 
 explained. 
 
OCCASIONAL NOTES. 
 
 149 
 
 I believe tbe true explanation to be that tbe sbeplierd from 
 whose alpe the scene was in part drawn, drove in a number of 
 ewes some of which had lambs, while the lambs of others had 
 been already killed and eaten. The authoress saw the shep¬ 
 herd milk a number of ewes, and then bring in a number ot 
 lambs, but she did not understand that the ewes which had 
 been milked had got no lambs, while those that had lambs’ 
 still living had not been milked. I think she knew she was 
 hazy about it, otherwise she would not have cut her version 
 short with a irdvra Kara /loipav — all in due course.” 
 
 It being evidentdhat Circe is quite as capable a prophet as 
 Tiresias, why should poor Ulysses be sent down to Hades ? 
 Obviously because the writer had set her heart on introducing 
 colloquies with the dead. Granted; but a writer who was 
 less desirous of making out that women know as much as men 
 would not have made Circe know quite so much. Why, as 
 soon as Ulysses has returned from Hades, repeat to him the 
 warning abuut the cattle of the Sun which Tiresias had given 
 him in the same words, and add a great deal more of her own ? 
 Why, again, did she not tell Ulysses to be particularly careful 
 to ask Tiresias about the Wandering Cliffs, in respect of which 
 she had confessed that her information was deficient ? Ulysses 
 does not appear to have said anything, but he must have 
 thought a good deal. Young people are impatient of such 
 small considerations. Who, indeed, can let fancy, naivete^ and 
 the charm of spontaneity have free and graceful play, if he or 
 she is to be troubled at every touch and turn by the suggestions 
 of common sense ? The young disdain precision too contemp¬ 
 tuously ; while older people are apt to think of nothing else. 
 
 The same desire to exalt the capabilities of woman appears 
 in making the Sun leave his sheep and cattle in the sole charge 
 of the two nymphs Lampetie and Phaethusa (xii. 13.2) who, by 
 the way, proved quite unable to. protect them. But then the 
 Sun was a man, and capable of any folly. 
 
 The comparison of Ulysses to a hungry magistrate (xii. 439, 
 
150 , 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 440), which is obviously humorous, is neither a man’s nor a 
 matron’s simile for such a thrilling situation. To me it 
 suggests the hand of a magistrate’s daughter who had often 
 seen her father come home tired and cross at having been 
 detained in court. 
 
 The present from Helen to Telemachus of a wedding dress 
 (xv. 125-129) was more likely to occur to a young woman than 
 to a man. I think also that a male writer would have given 
 something to poor Pisistratus, who has been very good and 
 amiable all through. It does,not appear that Telemachus 
 tipped Eteoneus or any other of Menelaus’ servants, though 
 from XX. 296, 297 it is plain that it was quite usual for visitors 
 to give something to the servants of a house at which they 
 were staying. He is very rude about not saying good-bye to 
 Nestor (xv, 199-2Q.1), and he never says good-bye to Pisistratus 
 as he ought. 
 
 Ulysses, again, seems to have ho sense of obligation what¬ 
 ever to Circe or Calypso. He has no other idea than that of 
 taking as much and giving as little as he can. So in Hades 
 he does not begin by asking how Penelope is, but how she is 
 behaving, and whether she is protecting his estate (xi. 177, &c.), 
 
 In Book xvii. 495. the old nurse and housekeeper, who has 
 hitherto always been Euryclea, suddenly becomes Eurynome, 
 a name which we have not yet had. Eurynome from this point 
 is frequently mentioned, though the context always suggests, 
 and sometimes compels, tlie , belief that Euryclea is intended, 
 In Book XX. 4, for example, we are told that Eurynome threw 
 a cloak over Ulysses after he had lain down to rest, but in 
 line 143 of the same Book, Euryclea says she threw the cloak 
 over him herself—for surely this is intended, though the plural 
 according to very common custom is used instead of the singular, 
 The alternation of the two names becomes very baffling, till 
 finally in Book xxiii. 289-293 both Eurynome and Euryclea 
 appear on the scene together, which cobbles the difflculty, but 
 does not make a good job of it—for one woman would have 
 been quite enough to do all that there was to do, 
 
OCCASIONAL NOTES. 
 
 151 
 
 What happened, I take it, was this. In the first line where 
 we meet with Eurynome, the name Euryclea could not be made 
 to scan very easily, and the writer, thinking she would alter it 
 later, wrote Enrynome. Having done so once, she used the 
 names Enrynome and Euryclea according as metrical conve¬ 
 nience inspired her. This went on for some time, till in the 
 end she found it would be a great deal of trouble to re-write 
 all the passages in which Enrynome had appeared ; she there¬ 
 fore determined to brazen it out, and pretend that she had all 
 along meant Euryclea and Enrynome to be two people. To 
 put their separate eHstence beyond question, she brings them 
 both on together. I do not say that this is feminine, but I can 
 find nothing like it in the Iliad. 1 have sometimes thought 
 the last six or seven Books, though they contain some of the 
 most exquisite passages in the whole poem, were written in 
 greater haste than the earlier ones, while the last hundred 
 lines or so of Book xxiv. suggest that the writer was determined 
 to end her work without much caring how. I have also 
 wondered whether the husband who in Book vi. was yet to find 
 may not have been found before Book xxiv. was written; but 
 I have nothing to urge in support of this speculation. 
 
 Argus (xvii. 2 . 92 ) is not a very good name for a dog. It is 
 the stock epithet for hounds in both Iliud and Odyssey^ and 
 means “ fleet.” The whole scene between Ulysses and Argus 
 is perhaps the most disappointing in the Odyssey. If the dog 
 was too old or feeble to come to Ulysses, Ulysses should have 
 gone up to him and hugged him—fleas or no fleas ; and Argus 
 should not have been allowed to die till this had been put in 
 evidence. True, Ulysses does wipe away one tear, but he 
 should have broken utterly down—and then to ask Eumgeus 
 whether Argus was any use, or whether he was only a show 
 dog—this will not do even as acting. The scene is well con¬ 
 ceived but badly executed; it betrays the harder side of the 
 writer’s nature, and has little of the pathos which Homer 
 would have infused into it. 
 
 When Eumasus says what kind of man he would be likely 
 
152 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 to ask to the house if he was free to choose, he puts a divine 
 first, a physician next, then a carpenter, and then a hard 
 (xvii. 384). The only wonder is that the writer did not put the 
 hard before the carpenter, and doubtless she would have done 
 so had she not wanted to give the hard a whole line to himself. 
 A woman, writing at the present day would be apt to consider 
 the clergyman, and the doctor, as the first people who should 
 he invited, but a man in the Homeric age would hardly have 
 chosen as Eumgeus is made to do. 
 
 I do not believe that any man living could wash Ulysses’ 
 feet and upset the bath so delightfully as Euryclea does 
 (xix. 386, &c.), and at the same time make Penelope sit by 
 and observe nothing of what was going on. He could not rise 
 to the audacity of saying that Minerva had directed Penelope’s 
 attention elsewhere, notwithstanding the noise which Ulysses’ 
 leg made, and the upsetting of a bath full of water, which 
 must have run over all that part of the cloister. A man would 
 have made Penelope desire suddenly to leave the cloister, just 
 before the accident happened, and lie down upon that couch 
 which she had never ceased to water with her tears, &c.; she 
 could then have come back, remembering that she had for¬ 
 gotten something, after the foot-bath had been refilled and the 
 mess cleaned up. But he could not have done it at all. 
 
 It will be observed that the stronger the indications become 
 that Ulysses is on the point of returning, the more imperative 
 Penelope finds it to marry one of the suitors without a day’s 
 delay. She has heard about the hawk tearing the dove ; she 
 has heard Telemachus sneeze .; she has been assured that 
 Ulysses was among the Thesprotians, quite near, and would 
 be in Ithaca immediately; she has had a dream which would 
 have made any one wait, say, for at least a week longer, unless 
 determined to take the gloomiest possible view of the situation; 
 but no; on the following day she must marry and leave the 
 house. Her words seem to me like those of a woman gloating 
 over the luxury of woe, as drawn by another woman who has 
 never known real trouble. Nothing can better show the 
 
OCCASIONAL NOTES. 
 
 153 
 
 hollowness of Penelope’s distress from first to last, A woman 
 who felt herself really drowning would have clutched at any 
 one of the straws above mentioned, and made it buoy her up 
 for weeks or months ; and any writer who had known real 
 sorrow would also know how certain she would be to do this. 
 A man could only so draw his heroine if he was laughing at 
 her in his sleeve; whereas the writer of the Odyssey is doing 
 her very utmost to take herself seriously. 
 
 Penelope seems firmly convinced that she is keeping ex¬ 
 cellent guard over her son’s estate all the time, and that if she 
 were to leave the house everything would go to rack and ruin. 
 She implies this to Ulysses when he is disguised as a beggar 
 (xix. 524). One wonders how Ulysses conld restrain himself 
 from saying, “Well, Madam, if you cannot prove more success¬ 
 ful as a guardian than you have been doing this many years 
 past, the sooner you leave the house the better for Telemachus.” 
 
 No great poet would compare his hero to a paunch full of 
 blood and fat, cooking before the fire (xx. 24-28). The humour, 
 for of course it is humorously intended, is not man’s humour, 
 unless he is writing burlesque. This the writer of the Odyssey 
 is not doing here, though she has intentionally approached it 
 very nearly in a great part of the Phgeacian episode. 
 
 The only other two points which suggest a female hand in 
 Book XX. —I mean with especial force—are the sympathy 
 which the writer betrays with the poor weakly woman who 
 could not finish her task (105, &c.), and the speech of Tele¬ 
 machus about his mother being too apt to make much of 
 second rate people (129-133). 
 
 The twelve axes set up in Book xxi. remain in the court 
 during the whole time that the suitors are being killed. How, 
 I wonder, is it that not one of the suitors picked up a single 
 axe ? A dozen men with a dozen axes should have made short 
 work of Ulysses and his men. True, by my own hypothesis 
 the heads had been taken off the handles, but they must have 
 been wedged, or bound, either on to the handles or to some 
 
154 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 other like pieces of wood, so as to raise them high enough for 
 any one to shoot through the handle-holes. It should have been 
 an easy matter either to fix the heads on to the handles again, 
 or to extemporise new ones. If the writer had not forgotten 
 all about the axes in her desire to begin with the shooting, she 
 would have trumped up a difficulty of some kind. Perhaps 
 she thought that the audience, hearing nothing more about 
 them, would forget all about the axes too—-and she was not 
 far wrong. 
 
 The instinctive house-wifely thrift of the writer is nowhere 
 more marked than near the beginning of Book xxii., where 
 amid the death-throes of Antinous and Eurymachus she cannot 
 forget the good meat and wine that were spoiled by the up¬ 
 setting of the tables at which the suiters had been sitting. 
 
 The killing of the suitors is aggressive in its want of 
 plausibility. If Melanthius could go to the store-room, no 
 matter how, the other suitors could have followed him and 
 attacked Ulysses from behind ; for there is evidently a passage 
 from the store-room to the place where Ulysses is standing. 
 
 Again, the outer yard was open to the suitors all the time. 
 Surely with the axes still at command they could have cut the 
 Byblus-fibre rope that was the only fastening of the main gate; 
 some of them at any rate might have got out. The first ninety 
 lines of the Book are as fine as the Iliad, but from line (say) 
 100 to line 330 the writer is out of her depth, and knows it. 
 The most palpably feminine part is where Minerva comes to 
 help Ulysses disguised as Mentor (xxii. 205-240). The suitors 
 menace her, and in a rage she scolds not them but Ulysses, 
 whom she rates roundly. Having done this, she flies away and 
 sits on a rafter like a swallow. 
 
 All readers will help poets, playwrights, and novelists, by 
 making believe a good deal, but we like to know whether we 
 are in the hands of one who will flog us uphill, or who will 
 make as little demand upon us as possible. In this portion of 
 
OCCASIONAL NOTES. 
 
 .155 
 
 Book xxii. the writer is flogging us uphill. She does not care 
 how much she may afflict the reader in his efforts to believe 
 her—the only thing she really cares for is her revenge. She 
 must have every one of the suitors killed stone dead, and all 
 the guilty women hanged, and Melanthius first horribly tor^ 
 tnred and then cut in pieces. Provided these objects are 
 attained, it is not necessary that the reader should be able to 
 believe, or even follow, all the ins and outs of the processes, 
 that lead up to them. 
 
 I will therefore not pursue the absurdities with which 
 the killing of the suitors abounds. I would, however, 
 point out that in Book xvi. 281, &c., where the taking away 
 of the armour from the cloister walls was first mooted, it 
 was proposed that enough to arm Ulysses and Telemachus 
 should be left accessible, so that they might snatch it up in a 
 moment without having to go all the way down iuto the store¬ 
 room after it, at the risk of Telemachus^s foi^getting to shut the 
 door—as young people so often do. I suppose Ulysses forgot 
 all about this sensible precaution, when he and Telemachus 
 were hiding the armour at the beginning of Book xix. Or 
 shall we suppose that the idea of catching Melanthius in the 
 store-room had not occurred to the poetess when she was 
 writing Book xvi., but had struck her before she reached 
 Book xix., aud that she either forgot, or did not think it worth 
 while, or found it inconvenient, to cancel lines 295, 296 of 
 Book xvi. ? From what I have seen of the authoress I incline 
 to this last opinion, and hold that she made Ulysses omit to 
 leave a little of the armour accessible to himself and Tele¬ 
 machus, because she had by this time determined to string 
 Melanthius up in the store-room, and did not see how to get 
 him inside it unless she made Telemachus go there first and 
 leave the door open; and, again, did not see how to get Tele¬ 
 machus down to the store-room if she left armour near at 
 hand, for him to snatch up. 
 
 As for Telemachus bringing up four helmets, four shields, 
 eight spears, he was already fully armed when the fight begau 
 (xxi. 434), so three helmets, three shields and six spears should 
 have done. Four helmets, four shields, and eight speara 
 
156 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 ' is a heavy load; but Melanthius carried twelve shields, twelve 
 helmets, and twelve spears apparently all at one time. 
 
 We are in an atmosphere of transpontine melodrama, but 
 the only wonder is that the absurdities are not even grosser 
 than they are, seeing that the writer was a young woman with 
 a strong will of her own. Woman she must have been; no 
 male writer could have resisted the temptation to kill Eumseus. 
 It is the faithful servant’s role to be mortally wounded on 
 occasions of this sort. There are very few more suitors to be 
 killed, and Minerva is going to raise her tegis immediately, 
 so that he could be perfectly well spared; possibly the writer 
 felt that she should be shorthanded with the cleaning up of the 
 blood and the removal of the dead bodies, but more probably 
 she hated the suitors so bitterly that she would not let them 
 score a single point. 
 
 How evidently relieved she feels when she has got the 
 killing over, and can return to ground on which she is strong, 
 such as the saving of Phemius and Medon, and the cleaning 
 down of the house. 
 
 What are we to say of making Penelope, whose room looked 
 out upon the cloister, sleep soundly all through the killing of 
 the suitors ? What of her remarks to Euryclea when she has 
 been waked. ? What, again, of her interview with Ulysses, and 
 the dance which Ulysses presently advises ? what, indeed, of 
 the whole Book ? Surely it is all perfectly right as coming 
 from some such person as the one portrayed in my frontispiece, 
 but who can conceive the kind of man or matron who could 
 write it ? The same applies to Book xxiv. What man or 
 middle-aged woman could have written the ineffably lovely 
 scene between Ulysses and Laertes in the garden ? or have 
 made Ulysses eat along with Dolius, whose son and daughter 
 he had killed on the preceding day ? A man would have been 
 certain to make Ulysses tell Dolius that he was very sorry, but 
 there had been nothing for it but to hang his daughter and to 
 
OCCASIONAL NOTES. 
 
 157 
 
 cut his son’s nose and ears off, draw out his vitals, and then 
 cut otf his hands and feet. Probably, however, he would have 
 kept Dolius and his sons out of the Book altogether. 
 
 When Ulysses and Penelope are in bed (xxiii. 300-343) and 
 are telling their stories to one another, Penelope tells hers first. 
 1 believe a male writer would have made Ulysses’ story come 
 first and Penelope’s second. 
 
( 158 ) 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THAT ITHACA AND SCHERIA ARE BOTH OF THEM DRAWN FROM 
 TRAPANI AND ITS IMMEDIATE NEIGHBOURHOOD. 
 
 I HAVE now given, though far more briefly than the subject 
 requires, some of my reasons for believing that from the first 
 Book of the Odyssey to the last we are in the hands of a young 
 woman. Who, then, was she ? Where did she live and write ? 
 She was of flesh and blood, lived in time and place, looked on 
 sea and sky, came and went somewhither and somewhen—but 
 where ? and when ? and above all, who ? It will be my object 
 to throw what light I can upon these subjects in the following 
 chapters. 
 
 I will follow the same course that I have taken earlier, 
 and retrace the steps whereby I was led to my conclusions. 
 
 By the time I had finished Book x. I was satisfied that the 
 Odyssey was not a man’s work, but I had seen nothing to 
 make me think that it was written rather at one place than at 
 another. When, however, I reached xiii. 159-164, in which 
 passage Neptune turns the Phaeacian ship into a rock at the 
 entrance of the Scherian harbour, 1 felt sure that an actual 
 feature was being drawn from, and made a note that no place, 
 however much it might lie between two harbours, would do for 
 Scheria, unless at the end of one of them there was a small 
 half sunken rock^ Presently I set myself to consider what 
 combination of natural features I ought to look for on the 
 supposition that Scheria was a real place, and made a list of 
 them as follows :— 
 
 1. The town must be placed on a point of land jutting out 
 as a land’s end into the sea between two harbours, or bays in 
 which ships could ride (vi. 263); it must be connected with 
 the'mainland by a narrow neck of land, and as I have just 
 said, must have a half sunken formidable rock at the entrance 
 of one of the harbours. 
 
SCHERIA AND TRAPANI. 
 
 150 
 
 2. There must be no river running into either harbour, or 
 Nausicaa would not have had to go so far to wash her clothes. 
 The river when reached might be nothing but a lagoon with a 
 spring or two of fresh water running into it, for the clothes 
 were not, so it would seem, washed in a river; they were 
 washed in public washing cisterns [Od, vi. 40, 86, 92) which a 
 small spring would keep full enough of water “ to wash clothes 
 even though they were very dirty.” The scene is laid close on 
 the sea shore, for the clothes are put out to dry on a high bank 
 of shingle which the sea had raised, and Nausicaa’s maidens 
 fly from Ulysses along the beach and spits that run into the 
 sea. 
 
 3. There must be a notable mountain at no great distance 
 from the town so as to give point to Neptune’s threat that he 
 would bury it under a high mountain. Furthermore, the 
 whole combination above described must lie greatly further 
 west of Euboea than Ithaca was, and hence greatly west of 
 Ithaca (vii. 321). Surely, if a real place is being drawn from, 
 these indications are ample to ensure its being easily found. 
 
 Men of science, so far as I have observed them, are apt in 
 their fear of jumping to a conclusion to forget that there is 
 such a thing as jumping away from one, and Homeric scholars 
 seem to have taken a leaf out of their book in this respect. 
 How many striking points of correspondence, I wonder, between 
 an actual place and one described in a novel, would be enough 
 to create a reasonable assurance that the place in which they 
 were combined was the one that was drawn from ? I should 
 say four well marked ones would be sufficient to make it 
 extremely improbable that a like combination could be found 
 elsewhere; make it five, and unless we find something to 
 outweigh the considerations which so close a correspondence 
 between the actual place and the one described in the novel 
 would suggest, or unless by some strange coincidence the same 
 combination in all its details can be shown to occur in some 
 other and more probable locality, we may be sure that the 
 novel was drawn from the place; for every fresh detail in the 
 combination required decreases the probability of error in 
 geometrical ratio if it be duly complied with. 
 
160 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 Let ns suppose that a policeman is told to look out for an 
 elderly gentleman of about sixty; he is a foreigner, speaks a 
 little English but not much, is lame in his left foot, has blue 
 eyes, a bottle nose, and is about 5ft. lOin. high. How many of 
 these features will the policeman require before he feels pretty 
 sure that he has found his man ? If he sees any foreigner he 
 will look at him. If he sees one who is about 5ft. lOin. high 
 he will note his age, if this proves to be about sixty years, and 
 further, if the man limps on his left foot, he will probably feel 
 safe in stopping him. If, Us he sure to do, he finds he has a 
 bottle nose, he will leave the blue eyes and broken English 
 alone, and will bring the man before the magistrate. 
 
 If it is then found that the man’s eyes are hazel, and that 
 he either speaks English fluently or does not speak it at all— 
 is the magistrate likely to discharge the prisoner on account of 
 these small discrepancies between him and the description 
 given of him, when so many other of the required characteristics 
 are found present ? Will he not rather require the prisoner to 
 bring forward very convincing proof that it is a case of mis¬ 
 taken identity ? 
 
 Or to take another illustration, which is perhaps more 
 strictly to the point as involving comparison between an 
 actual place and one described in a novel. Here is an extract 
 from a novel:— 
 
 Grammerton, like other fair cities, was built on a hill. The 
 highest point was the fine old Elizabethan School, then, and now, 
 of European reputation. Opposite it was the old shattered and 
 ruined castle, overlooking the bubbling and boiling shallows of the 
 broad and rapid river Saber . , . From the hill the town 
 
 sloped rapidly down on every side towards the river, which made it 
 a peninsula studded with habitations. [The Beauclercs, father and 
 son, by Charles Clarke, Chapman and Hall. Yol. i. p. 28 .) 
 
 Is there any man of ordinary intelligence and acquainted 
 with Shrewsbury who will doubt that Shrewsbury was the 
 place that Mr. Clarke was drawing from ? 
 
 When I have urged the much more numerous and weightier 
 points of agreement between Scheria as described in the 
 Odyssey, and Trapani as it still exists, eminent Homeric 
 
Grammerton And Shrewsbury. 
 
 161 
 
 scliolars have told me, not once nor twice—and not meekly, 
 but with an air as though they were crushing me-^that my 
 case rests in the main on geographical features that are not 
 unknown to other parts of the coast, and upon legends which 
 also belong to other places. 
 
 Grammerton, they argue—^to return to my illustration—■ 
 must not be held as Shrewsbury, far at Harrow as well as- 
 Shrewsbury the School is on the highest part of the town. 
 There is a river, again, at Eton, so that Ebon may very well 
 have been the place intended. It is bighl}^ fanciful to suppose 
 that the name Saber may have been a mere literary travesty 
 of Sabrina.- At Kotting-hejm there is a castle which was in 
 ruins but a few years since, and from which one can see the 
 Trent. Nottingham, therefore, is quite as likely to- be the 
 original of Grammerton as Shrewsbury is.- 
 
 And so on ad infinitum. This line of argument consists in 
 ignoring that the force of the one opposed to it lies in the 
 demonstrable existence of a highly complex combination, the 
 component items of which are potent when they are all found 
 in the same place, but impotent unless combined. It is a line 
 which eminent Homeric scholars almost invariably take when 
 discussing my Odyssean theory, but it is not one which will 
 satisfy those before whom even the most eminent of Homeric 
 scholars must in the end bow—I mean^ men of ordinary 
 common sense.- These lasfc will know that Grammerton can- 
 only be dislodged from Shrewslairy on proof either that the 
 features of Shrewsbury do^ not in reality correspond with those 
 of Grammerton, or else-that there is- another town in^ England 
 which offers the same combination, and is otherwise more 
 acceptable. 
 
 So with Trapani and Scheria.- Eminent Homeric scholar's 
 must show that I have exaggerated the points of correspond¬ 
 ence between the two= places—-which in the face of Admiralty 
 charts and of the Odysseif they will hardly venture ; or they 
 must bring forward some other place in which the same points 
 of correspondence are found combined—-whidr they will not 
 attemj)t; or they must show reason for thinking that the very 
 numerous and precise correspondences between Trapani and all 
 
 M 
 
162 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 .Scherian and Ithacan scenes are referable to mere accident— 
 and this will satisfy those only who will believe that a man 
 has held thirteen trumps in his hand three deals running, 
 without having tampered with the cards. I need not discuss 
 this last supposition, and as for the other two, I can only assure 
 the reader that no attempt has been made to establish either 
 of them during the close on six years since my theory was first 
 put before the public. 
 
 Neither will it ever be made. For Scheria should be looked 
 for on some West coast to the West of Greece, and there are 
 no such West coasts except those of Italy and Sicily, both of 
 which I know well enough to be sure that if the Scherian com¬ 
 bination could be found elsewhere than at Trapani I should 
 long since have found it. Even could such a place be found 
 with its rock Malconsiglio, legend and all, before it could 
 compete with Trapani in claiming the Odyssey it would have 
 to offer the Ithacan combination as well as the Scherian; for 
 surely a place which provides us with both Ithacan and 
 Scherian topography would have a greater right to be con¬ 
 sidered as that from which the Odyssey was drawn, than one 
 which could only offer the details of Scheria. 
 
 Furthermore, could they find another place with all both 
 Scherian and Ithacan features, my opponents would be only 
 half way through their troubles ; for Trapani could still hold 
 its own against it, unless it also had four islands (neither more 
 nor fewer) lying off it, one of them long and narrow, and all of 
 them corresponding with the inaccurate Odyssean description 
 of the Ionian islands. Nor would it even then begin to be on 
 equal terms with Trapani, till it was shown that the effective 
 part of the voyages of Ulysses begins and ends with it. When 
 all this has been done, but not before, it will be time to weigh 
 the comparative claims of the two sites. 
 
 For I rest my case on the harmonious concurrence of four 
 lines of argument, each requiring the fulfilment of many and 
 very rigorous conditions, and each by itself sufficient to raise a 
 strong presumption that Trapani was the place which was 
 most prominent in the mind of the writer of the Odyssey, 
 They are:— 
 
FOITR MAIN LINES OF THE ARGUMENT. 
 
 163 
 
 1. That Scheria is drawn from Trapani.- This I will 
 substantiate by bringing forward a mnch stronger combination 
 of correspondences than exists between Grammerton and 
 Shrewsbury. 
 
 2. That Ithaca also is drawn from Trapani and its imme¬ 
 diate neighbourhood. My case for this will be found even 
 stronger if possible than that by which I established that 
 Scheria was Trapani. 
 
 3. That the Ionian islands as described in the Ochjssey 
 cannot have been drawn from the actual iGnian islands, nor 
 from any others but those off Trapani; and that the writer 
 sinned against her own knowledge in order to force these 
 islands into her narrative. 
 
 4. That the voyages of Ulysses practically resGlve them¬ 
 selves into a voyage from Troy to the neighbourhood of Sicily, 
 and thenceforward into a sail round Sicily, beginning with 
 Trapani and ending with the same place. 
 
 It will be necessary that no argument adduced in support of 
 any of these propositions should clash with those in support of 
 any other, but all the four lines of argument must corroborate 
 each other, so that they fit into one another as the pieces of a 
 child’s puzzle. It is inconceivable that anythingbut a true theory 
 should comply with conditions so exacting. I will now pro¬ 
 ceed to show that Scheria is Trapani, and will return to the 
 steps by which I arrived at this conclusion. 
 
 Armed with the list of points I had to find in combination, 
 as given at the beginning of this chapter, I went down to the 
 map room of the British Museum intending to search the 
 Mediterranean from the Troad to Gibraltar if necessary; but 
 remembering that I ought to look (for reasons already given) 
 some distance West of Greece, and also that the writer of the 
 Odyssey appeared to have lived on a coast that looked West 
 not East, I resolved to search the West coasts first. I knew 
 that Colonel Mure and a respectable weight of ancient testimony 
 had placed the Cyclopes on Mt. Eryx, and it seemed to me 
 that the island where Ulysses hunted the goats, and the whole 
 Cyclopes incident suggested drawing from life more vividly 
 than any other part of the voyages. I knew, moreover, that 
 
 m2 
 
164 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 the writer was a young woman who was little likely to have 
 travelled, and hence felt sure that if one place could be found, 
 none of the others would be long in finding ; I asked, therefore, 
 for the map of the Libyboean promontory, as the West coast 
 West of Greece that offered the greatest prospect of success, 
 and hardly had I got it in my band before I found the combi¬ 
 nation I wanted for Scheria lying right under Mt. Eryx. The 
 
 land’s end jutting into the sea—the two harbours one on either 
 side of it—the narrow entrance between two marshes—the 
 high mountain hard by—the rock at the entrance of one of the 
 harbours—-the absence of any river—-will be found in the map 
 here given, which Messrs. Walker & Boutall have made for 
 me from the Italian Government survey, and from our' own 
 Admiralty chart. 
 
 But this was not all. Not only was the rock of the right 
 height, and so turned as to^ give the idea of a ship coming into 
 
THE ROCK MALCONSIGLIO. 
 
 165 
 
 port, but it it bore the strange name of Malconsiglio, or “ Evil 
 counsel.” 1 was so mucb struck with this that I wrote to 
 Trapani enquiring whether there existed any local tradition in 
 connection with the rock, and was told that there were two—■ 
 the one absurd, and the other to the etfect that the rock had 
 been a ship of Turkish Pirates who were coming to attack 
 Trapani, but were turned into stone at the entrance of the 
 harbour by the Madonna di Trapani. I did not doubt that the 
 name and the legend between them preserved the Odyssean 
 version, in a Christianised form—the legend recording the fact 
 of a ship’s having been turned into stone as it was entering 
 harbour, and the name telling us the other fact that this had 
 been brought about in consequence of an evil counsel. 
 
 I believe the above sufficient for reasonable assurance that 
 Scheria was drawn from Trapani, and will, therefore, proceed 
 to establish that the Ithaca scenes are drawn also from the 
 same place and its immediate neighbourhood. 
 
 To this end it will be incumbent upon me to find that near 
 Trapani, though not actually at the town, there exists, or can 
 be shown to have in all reasonable probability existed, a 
 harbour which has, or had, a current in it, and which lies hard 
 by the foot of a mountain. This harbour should have a 
 shelving bottom, for the Phceacian crew which brought Ulysses 
 to Ithaca ran half the ship’s length on shore before the way 
 was off it. At no great distance there must be two caves near 
 together (xiii. 103-112 and 347-349). One of them must have 
 two entrances—one turned towards the North, by which people 
 can go down into the cave, and tlie other towards the South, 
 by which the gods alone can enter. It must have water 
 in it, and also prehistoric implements should be found there. 
 From near it one must be able to see harbours (in the plural), 
 and it should be on the side of a mountain. Here Ulysses hid 
 the treasures that the Phteacians had given him. The other 
 cave need present no special features. 
 
 A man ascending the mountain from these caves, and 
 keeping along the top of it should come to a place on ground 
 commanding an extensive prospect, where there is a spring 
 and a rock that is called Raven. This site must be bitterly 
 
166 
 
 THE AUTHOEESS OE THE OHYSgEf. 
 
 cold in winter, and must be about two hours’ walk from 
 Trapani; the path to the town must be so rugged that a man 
 in ordinary vigour would not like to take it without having a 
 stick; and lastly, it must pass a notable mound or hill much 
 nearer Trapani than the high ground above alluded to, and 
 commanding a full view of the city and harbour. The reader 
 who turns to the abridgement of Books xiii., xiv., xv., xvi. and 
 xvii. given in this work, will find that all these points are 
 necessary* 
 
 They all of them exist at this day, even to the calling of 
 the rock “Raven,” except one^^—I mean the mouth of the 
 harbour where the Phaaacians entered; this is now silted up, 
 like the harbour of Selinunte,* which I might almost call on 
 the same coast. The inner part of the harbour is still full of 
 sea water, but has been converted into Salt Works f which are 
 slightly below the level of the sea. The bed of the old exit is 
 clearly seen, and there are still rushes in it though it is quite 
 dry: it is very narrow, is often full in winter, and is marked 
 with dotted lines in the Italian Ordnance Map, but not so in 
 our Admiralty Chart. 
 
 The existence of this bed was pointed out to me by Signor 
 Sugarneli, of Trapani. He assured me that till 1848 when the 
 Salt Works were made, the whole space covered by them was 
 an open mere where his father used to go to shoot wild ducks. 
 One great difficulty in making the Salt Works was the abund¬ 
 ance of fresh water springs, which made it necessary to cement 
 the salt pans in order to keep the fresh water from mixing 
 with the salt. It was perhaps from some of these springs that 
 the 'ttXvvol, or washing cisterns, of vi. 40 were supplied—unless 
 indeed Nausicaa washed the clothes in sea water as 1 have seen 
 women in the island of Pantellaria still do. 
 
 Given a mass of water, nearly a mile long and a quarter of 
 a mile broad, with a narrow exit, and the tide, which here has 
 a rise and fall of from two to three feet, Avoiild cause a current 
 that at times would be strong, and justify its being described 
 
 * A few years ago the stone work at the entrance to the harbour of Selinunte was 
 excavated, but it was silted over again in a single winter. 
 
 1 Shown in the plan as the Salt Works of S. Cusurnano. 
 
THE HARBOUR RHEITHRON. NoW SALT 
 
 WOliKS 
 
 OF S. CUSUMANO. 
 
 MOUTH OP THE HARBOUR RHEITHRON, 
 
 NOW SILTED UP. 
 
 {To face p. 
 
THE HARBOUR RHEITHRON AND THE CAVES. 167 
 
 as a river and also as a harbour with a current in it; returuinc: 
 for a moment to Scheria, I suppose this to he the river at the 
 month of which Ulysses landed, and the river’s staying his 
 flow (v. 451), I take to mean that he arrived there just at the 
 turn of the tide. I may also say that this harbour is used five 
 times in the Odyssey :— 
 
 1. As the “ flowing harbour, in the country beyond the 
 town, under Mt. Neritnm ”—reading, as explained earlier, 
 'NrjpLTM for —where Minerva said she left her ship, when 
 
 she was talking with Telemachns i. 185, 186. 2. As the place 
 
 where Ulysses landed in Scheria and where Nansicaa washed 
 her clothes. 3. As the place where Ulysses landed in Ithaca. 
 4. As the place where Telemachns landed in Ithaca on his 
 return from Pylos (xv. 495 &c.). 5. As the spot pointed to 
 
 by Ulysses as the one where his ship was lying “ in the country 
 beyond the town ” (xxiv. 308). 
 
 I will now return to the two caves which ought to be found 
 at no great distance from the head of this harbour. It is clear 
 from the text that there were two not one, but some one has 
 enclosed in brackets the two lines in which the second cave is 
 mentioned, I presume because he found himself puzzled by 
 having a second cave sprung upon him when uj) to this point 
 he has been only told of one. 
 
 I venture to think that if he had known the ground he 
 would not have been puzzled, for there are two caves, distant 
 about 8G or 100 yards from one another, at the place marked 
 in the map as the grotta del toro. The one is conspicuous, but 
 without special feature; the other, which is not very easily 
 seen, and which is called by the peasants the grotta del toro, 
 looks due North, and is universallv believed to contain a 
 treasure, which a bull who lives in its recesses is continually 
 grinding, but which can only be found by a virgin, who will 
 eat a whole pomegranate without spilling a single pip. I 
 suspect the toro to be a children’s corruption of tesoro. The 
 bull having thus got into the cave has never got ont again, 
 and as the treasure is also confidently known to exist—well— 
 what can the bull be there for but to turn a mill and grind 
 the treasure ? 
 
168 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY* 
 
 The cave runs due South into the rock by a passage so 
 rough and narrow that no one is likely to go more than a very 
 few feet with it. No one, therefore, can enter the cavern from 
 the South—it is only the gods who can do so. 
 
 In August, 1894, I visited the ground with some Sicilian 
 friends, and we discoursed with the contadino who had charge 
 of the farm on which the caves are found. While we were 
 talking there came up a nice intelligent lad on a donkey, and 
 he seemed much interested in our conversation. 
 
 “ Is there,” we asked, pointing to the grotta del toro^ “ a 
 treasure in the cave ? ” 
 
 “ Certainly,” was the immediate answer. Here the boy 
 broke in. He was quite sure there was one. Everybody 
 knew it. It could not be doubted. 
 
 Is there a treasure in the other cave ? ” 
 
 “ Oh, no.” 
 
 Which of the two caves is called the grotta del toro ? ” 
 That one ’’—from both peasant and boy, who pointed at 
 once to the cave that corresponded with the Odyssey. 
 
 “ You are quite sure that the other cave is not called ‘ la 
 grotta del toro ’ ? ” 
 
 “ Quite,” 
 
 “ Where does the grotta del toro go to ? ” 
 
 It gets narrow and goes far into the rock.” 
 
 Has any one ever been to the end of it ? ” 
 
 ^‘Ho, no ; no one knows where it ends. There was a cattle 
 driver who went in once to explore it, but he never came back, 
 and they say that after this there was a wall built to stop any 
 one from going further.” 
 
 “Have you ever been inside the cave yourself?” 
 
 “ Yes.” 
 
 “ Have you been as far as the wall ? ” 
 
 “ No.” 
 
 “ How far did you go ? ” 
 
 “ Not very far ; I was afraid.” 
 
 “ Then you have no idea how far the cave goes ? ” 
 
 “ No.” 
 
 “ Is there water in the cave at all times ? ” 
 
THE GROTTA DEL TORO, 
 
 169 
 
 Yes.” 
 
 “ Have yon seen it ? ” 
 
 I was there in May last, and there was water then.” 
 
 “ Is there water there now ? ” 
 
 “ I should think so, but cannot be certain.” 
 
 “ Can yon take ns to it ? ” 
 
 “ No ; the key of the ground is at Trapani,” 
 
 “ They say there is a bnll in the further recesses of the 
 cavern ? ” 
 
 “ They say so, but we have never seen him; all we know 
 for certain is that there is a treasure.” 
 
 Here the boy again brightened up, and said that this was 
 certain. 
 
 AVhen we had finished our questions the eontadino took one 
 of our party aside, and said, confidentially, “ Be sure of me, for 
 I have a strong stomach” ( 2 .^., I can keep a secret). “ When 
 yon come to remove the treasure, which I can see that you 
 intend to do, you must take me with you and give me my 
 share. If you come by night the dogs will bark, and I shall 
 know that you are there. I will then come down and help 
 you, but you must give me my share.” 
 
 I wrote the above conversation down, in Italian, immediately 
 on my return to Trapani, and my Sicilian friends signed it, at 
 my request, as a correct report. It occurs to me to add that 
 there is no other cave near Trapani to which any story of a 
 hidden treasure attaches. 
 
 Last year (May, 1896) I visited the cave ’again, this time 
 with my friend Mr. H. Festing Jones, who has gone over the 
 whole of the ground described in this book, to make sure that 
 I have not overstated my case. We were accompanied by 
 Signor Sugameli of Trapani, to whom I owe the correction of 
 my error in believing the more conspicuous of the two caves to 
 be called the grotta del toro —for so, on my first visit to 
 Tra|)ani in 1892, my friends in the town had assured me, not 
 knowing the existence of the one which really bears the name. 
 Jones and Signor Sugameli scram])led into the interior of the 
 cavern, but I, being elderly and somewhat lame, did not 
 venture. They found the cave end, after about thirty feet, in 
 
170 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 , a mass of solid rock; but few wlio have gone above ten or 
 twelve feet will be likely to go any further, and I can well 
 believe that the writer of the Odyssey^ like the peasants of 
 to-day, believed that no one could get to the end of it. My 
 friends found water. 
 
 The cave is full of bees’ nests in summer, as are all the 
 caves hereabouts. They are small, solitary, of red clay, and 
 about the size of the cup of an acorn. All the caves in the 
 neighbourhood of Mt. Eryx abound in remains of stone-age 
 man, some fine examples of which may be seen in the museum 
 at Palermo. These remains would doubtless be more common 
 and more striking three thousand years or so ago than they are 
 at present, and I find no difficulty in thinking that the poetic 
 imagination of the writer of the Odyssey ascribed them to the 
 nymphs and naiads. 
 
 From hard by both the caves one can see, of course, the 
 precipices of Mt. Eryx, which I suppose to be Neritum in the 
 mind of the writer (xiii. 351), the straight paths on the cultivated 
 land some couple of hundred feet below, the harbour of the old 
 merman Phorcys, and also the harbours of Trapani, all which 
 are requisite by lines xiii. 195, 196, and 345-351. 
 
 The reader will note that while more than one Scherian 
 detail is given casually and perhaps unintentionally, as for 
 example the harbour where Ulysses landed in Scheria, and the 
 harbours, which I do not doubt are the two harbours of 
 Trapani, there is no Ithacan detail given so far which conflicts 
 with any feature in the description of Scheria. 
 
 The number and value, of the points of correspondence 
 between the cave in which Ulysses hid his treasure, and the 
 grotta del toro greatly exceed those between Grammerton and 
 Shrewsbury. Nevertheless it will be well to see whether his 
 movements on leaving the cave confirm my view or make 
 against it. 
 
 I suppose him to have ascended the steep, and then, doubt¬ 
 less, wooded slopes of Mt. Eryx and to have passed along its 
 high and nearly level summit {pi d/cpia^;, xiv. 2) to the other 
 end of the mountain, where the Norman Castle stands now 
 2500 feet above the sea level. Here he descended some two or 
 
HUT OF EUM.EUS AND RAVEN ROCK. 
 
 171 
 
 three linndred feet to the spot now called i runzi^ where there 
 is a spring near a precij)ice which is still called il ruccazzii dei 
 corvt, i.e> “ the rock of the ravens,” it being on this part of the 
 mountain that these birds breed most freely. This walk would 
 take him about two hours, more or less. 
 
 The site is seen from far and wide, it is bitterly cold in 
 winter, and is connected with Trapani by a rough mountain 
 path which Ulysses may well have been afraid to travel without 
 a stick (xvii. 195).^ The path passes close to the round-topped 
 Colle di Sta Anna which answers perfectly to the^E^a^ato? 
 X6(f)o^ of xvi. 471. The time it takes to walk from the runzi 
 to Trapani corresponds with all the indications furnished ns 
 in the Odyssey concerning the distance between Eumgens’s 
 hut and the town of Ithaca—-which seems roughly to have 
 been a winter’s day walk there and back. 
 
 The reader will see, therefore, that we have the whole road 
 taken by Ulysses from his landing in the harbour of Phorcys 
 to the cave (with all its complex requirements) in which he 
 hid his presents, up Mt. Neritnm, along its long top to the 
 spring and the Raven Rock, and finally the path passing the 
 hill of Mercury down to Ithaca, as accurately presented to ns 
 by the road from the saline di S. Cusiimano to the grotta del 
 toro^ Mt. Eryx, the fountain, the Raven Rock, and the road to 
 Trapani, as though the Odyssey had been written yesterday. 
 When the reader can find me in all literature, ancient or 
 modern, any like chain of correspondences between an actual 
 place and one described in a work of fiction as an effect of 
 mere chance, I will accept the coincidences to which I have 
 called attention as possibly accidental only ; but I am convinced 
 that no such case nor anything approaching it can be adduced. 
 
 I, therefore, claim that Ithaca, like Scheria, must be taken 
 as drawn from Trapani. There is, however, this important 
 point to be remembered, that though the writer, when she has 
 to consider Ithaca ah extra, as an island and nothing more, 
 pictures it to herself as the high and striking island of 
 
 * Of recent years an excellent carriage road has been made from Trapani to the 
 town on the top of Mt, Eryx, but pedestrians still use the old path, which in places 
 is very rough. 
 
172 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 Marettimo some 22 miles off Trapani, when she wants details 
 she takes them from her own immediate neighhonrhood on the 
 mainland. 
 
 Young people when transferring familiar stories to their 
 own neighhoiirliood, as almost all young people do, never stick 
 at inconsistencies. They are like eminent Homeric scholars, 
 and when they mean to have things in any given way they 
 will not let the native line of resolution he balked by thought, 
 and will find it ec[ually easy to have an Ithaca in one place 
 and also in another, and to see the voyages of Columbus to the 
 tropics in their own sliding over a frozen pool. So Lord 
 Selborne writes:— 
 
 As we grew, the faculty of imagination increased in power. It 
 coloured all our childish pleasures; it accompanied us on the ice 
 and into the woods ; it mixed the dreams of the supernatural with 
 the most ordinary things. Our resting-places when sliding over a 
 frozen pool were the islands discovered by Columbus or Cook, in 
 whose voyages we delighted. 
 
 {Memorials ^c., by Eoundell Palmer, Earl of Selborne, 
 
 Macmillan 1896, pt. i. p. 66.) 
 
 Before I leave the Ithaca scenes I ought to show that there 
 may well have existed at Trapani a sheet of water which cattle 
 would be likely to cross in a boat, as described in Od. xx. 
 186-188. The land on the East side of Trapani was artificially 
 raised in 1860, till which time the two seas on either side the 
 town were often joined in winter after a continuance of 
 Northerly Winds. Several people have assured me that they 
 remember having to be carted over the water between Trapani 
 and the mainland. I was at first tempted to believe that 
 Philoetius had come to the town when the narrow entrance to 
 it was flooded; but a few lines above we find that Eumeeus 
 had also come to the town with three pigs, and Melanthius 
 with some goats. These men had both unquestionably come 
 from Mt. Eryx, and the text seems to forbid the idea that they 
 too had had to cross the water. There is nothing, however, to 
 imply that Philoetius had come from Mt. Eryx; indeed, it is 
 more likely that his cattle would feed on the flat land south of 
 the harbour, which he had crossed by boat to save the long 
 
THE SLEEP OF ULYSSES. 
 
 173 
 
 detour wliicli would have been otherwise necessary. Tf the 
 water had been that of any such river as is to be found in 
 Asia Minor, Greece, or Sicily, one man would probably have 
 been enough, whereas there seem to have been several plying 
 for hire, as in a port or harbour. 
 
 The fact that Scheria and Ithaca would be perfectly well- 
 known by the audience as drawn from their own neighbourhood 
 explains another difficulty. “ How,” some hypercritical listener 
 might ask, “ could so sagacious and experienced a mariner as 
 Ulysses have failed to note that he was only travelling two 
 miles, or even less, from Scheria to Ithaca ? x4nd how again 
 could he fail tu recognise the place at which he landed as the 
 one where he had met Hausicaa a few days previously?” 
 
 The writer of the: Odysse'j/. admits with some naivete that 
 the Phreacian mariners were already acquainted with the 
 harbourin which they left Ulysses. They probably would be. 
 But how prevent Ulysses from remonstrating both during the 
 voyage and on being landed ? It is not easy to see what bette-r 
 course the writer could take than the one she actually did take, 
 ^.g., put Ulysses to sleep as soon as ever he was on board, and 
 not wake him till after the sailors were gone. A sleep, there¬ 
 fore, is prepared for him (vii. 318, and viii. 445) and he falls 
 into it apparently before even leaving the harboim; it is so ’ 
 profound that it is more like death than sleep (xiii. 80^). 
 Hothiug, not even the men lifting him off the ship next 
 morning, laying all his treasures hard by him and going away, 
 can disturb him till the Phinacian sailors are beyond all reach 
 of question. Then, of course, the sooner he 'wakes up the 
 better. - 
 
 As for the other difficulty of his not seeing that he was only 
 at the spot where he had met Hausicaa two days earlier, this 
 was got over by making it a misty morning, and muddling 
 Ulysses generally so that he does not even recognise the place 
 as Ithaca, much less as Scheria, till Minerva meets him and 
 has a long talk with him, in the course of which the audience 
 slides into the situation, and accepts the neighbourhood of 
 Trapani for that of Ithaca without more demur. 
 
( 174 ) 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE IONIAN AND THE ^GADEAN ISLANDS—THE VOYAGES OF 
 
 ULYSSES SHOWN TO BE PKACTICALLY A SAIL ROUND SICILY 
 
 FROM TRAPANI TO TRAPANI. 
 
 In a later chapter I propose to show that the writer of the 
 Odyssey had the Iliad before her in the state in which we 
 have it now, unimportant copyists’ errors alone excepted. I 
 shall show that those Books on which most donht has been 
 cast by eminent Homeric scholars both on the Continent and 
 in England, are just as fully and freely quoted from as those 
 that are admitted to have been by Homer. I have seen no 
 sufficient reason alleged for doubting that the Catalogues of 
 II. ii. 484-877 formed part of the poem as Homer left it, 
 though it is quite likely that he may have got some one with 
 greater knowledge of Greece to help him. I intend returning 
 to this question, but for the present will ask the reader to 
 accept my assumption that the writer of the Odyssey knew the 
 Catalogues above referred to. The group of the Echinades and 
 the Ionian islands are described as follows in the Catalogue of 
 the Achaean forces ;— 
 
 And they of Dulichium, with the sacred Echinean islands, who 
 dwelt beyond the sea off Elis—these were led by Meges, peer of 
 Mars, the son of Phyleus, who had erewhile migrated to Dulichium 
 in consequence of a quarrel with his father. And with him there 
 came forty ships. 
 
 Ulysses led the brave Cephallenians, who held Ithaca, wooded 
 Neritum, Crocylea, rugged iEgilips, Samos,^ and Zacynthus, with 
 the mainland also that is over against the islands. These were led 
 by Ulysses, peer of gods in counsel, and with him came twelve ships. 
 {II. II. 625-637.) 
 
 * In the Odyssey more generally called Same. 
 
THE IONIAN AND AilGADEAN ISLANDS. 
 
 175 
 
 The reader will note that Dulichinm, which means “ Long 
 Island,” does not belong to the Ionian islands, but to the 
 
 Neritum orLeucas 
 
 now 
 
 Sta. Maura, 
 
 Crocylea now Arkudi'3 
 
 Kalomo 
 
 -^gilips 
 ^ now 
 
 Atakos ‘ ' 
 
 Ithaca * 
 Makriv 
 
 5 supposed to be 
 
 Dulichium ^ 
 
 awosiSame or Samos 
 now 
 
 '^‘5218 ^Cephalooia 
 
 MAP OF The 
 IONIAN ISLANDS 
 
 la Miles 
 
 o 246 8 10 IB 
 
 I—I—I—I_1_I_I 
 
 ^Zacynthus 
 
 / \ (Zante) Pelopfrnese 
 
 IValker GrBoutallsc, 
 
 neighbouring group of the Echinades. Let us now see how 
 the islands in the neighbourhood of Ithaca are described in 
 the Od'j/sse'if. Ulysses says (ix. 21-26) : 
 
 “I dwell in Ithaca, an island which contains a high mountain 
 called Neritum. In its neighbourhood there are other islands near 
 to one another, Dulichium, Same and Zacynthus. It lies on the 
 horizon all highest up in the sea towards the west, while the other 
 islands lie away from it to the east.” 
 
 In the Odyssey there are never more than three islands 
 besides Ithaca. When mentioned all together they are always 
 named in the order given above—^probably for reasons of 
 scansion—but Dulichium is the most important in the eyes of 
 the writer, being more frequently mentioned separately, and 
 sending fifty-two suitors as against twenty-four from Same, 
 twenty from Zacynthus, and twelve from Ithaca itself (xvi. 
 247-251). 
 
 A glance at the map given above will show that there is no 
 
1T6 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 island in the neighbonrhood of Ithaca which can with poetical 
 propriety be held to have sent nearly as many suitors as the 
 other three pnt together. Least of all could Dulichinm be so 
 held. It seems, then, that it was the name, and not the 
 island, that the writer wanted; and further that she wanted 
 this so badly as to lay violent hands upon it and raid it from 
 another group. 
 
 Why should she strain so considerable a point in order to 
 get hold of it ? The Iliadic catalogue omits three or four 
 but leaves' us six Ionian islands. After suppressing the small 
 islands of Crocylea and Allgilips, there remained four, which it 
 seems was the exact number that the writer of the Odyssey 
 meant to introduce; why, then, should not Neritum have been 
 good enough for her ? It evidently did not answer her purpose, 
 or she would not, in the face of the catalogue, have stowed it 
 away inside Ithaca and gone further afield for her dominant 
 island. These things are never done without a reason, and in 
 this case a reason is particularly necessary, for it would have 
 been more easy and also^ suitable, considering the insignificance 
 of the real Dulichinm, to make the fifty-two suitors come from 
 the very considerable island of Neritum. 
 
 All difficulty is removed by supposing that the writer lived 
 at Trapani and was drawing the Ionian islands from the, to 
 her, familiar AUgadean group. A glance at the foregoing map 
 will shew thnt she cannot have' been drawing from the real 
 Ionian islands. Ithaca cannot be tortured into Ijdug “all 
 highest up in the sea towards the West.”* It is completely 
 covered by Samos. Nor do the other islands lie away from it 
 to the East. It is clear, then, that the Ionian islands were not 
 those present to the mind of the writer, but we may infer in 
 passing, firstly, that her audience lived at a sufficient distance 
 from Greece to make the infraction of topographical accuracy 
 a matter of no importance, and secondly, that the islands from 
 which she was in reality drawing lay, like the true Ionian 
 group, off a West coast. 
 
 I will now give a map of the islands off Trapani. I see 
 that Professor Freeman, in his map of the West coast of Sicily, 
 as he supposes it to have been in ancient times, has joined the 
 
THE IONIAN AND THE AEGADEAN ISLANDS. 
 
 177 
 
 Isola Grande to the neighbonring main land, but he gives no 
 authority for doing so. I can find none in ancient writers, 
 and having examined the ground see nothing to indicate any 
 change in the distribution of land and water, as having taken 
 place within measurable distance of our own times. 
 
 The lofty and rugged island of Marettimo did duty in the 
 writer’s mind for Ithaca, though, as I have said, when details 
 are wanted they are taken from Trapani and Mt, Eryx. The 
 long island, now the Isola Grande—low lying and wheat 
 growing—was her Dulichium; this must have been far the 
 most important of the four as regards Trapani, being accessible 
 in all weathers, and probably already pregnant with the 
 subsequently famous city of Motya, of which hardly anything 
 remains, but which stood on the Southernmost of the two 
 islands that lie between Isola Grande and the mainland. The 
 other two islands stood for Same and Zacynthus, but which 
 was which I have not been able to determine. Marettimo can 
 hardly be seen from Trapani, being almost entirely hidden by 
 Levanzo. From the heights, however, of Mt. Eryx, with 
 which, for other reasons, 1 suppose the writer to have been 
 familiar, it is seen “ on the horizon, all highest up in the sea 
 towards the West.” I do not doubt the poetess was describing 
 it as she knew it from the top of Mt. Eryx, and as the reader 
 may still see it. The rough sketch on the following page will 
 explain TTavvrreprdrT) elv aXi better than words can do ; the 
 two small islands shown just over Tra]3ani are the Formiche, 
 which I take to be the second rock thrown by Poly|)hemus. 
 
178 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
MAIN EPISODES OF ULYSSEs’ VOYAGES. 
 
 179 
 
 If wliat 1 have said above is not enough to satisfy the 
 reader that the writer of the Odyssey was drawing the Ionian 
 islands from the iEgadean, nothing that 1 can add is likely to 
 convince him. I will therefore now go on to my fourth point, 
 namely, that the voyages of Ulysses are, as nearly as the 
 writer could make them, a voyage round Sicily, from Trapani 
 by the hTorth coast, through the straits of Messina, to the island 
 of Pantellaria, and so back to Trapani, beyond which we need 
 not go, for Ithaca and Scheria are, both of them, Trapani, as 
 I have already shown. 
 
 The main episodes of the voyage occur in the followiug 
 order. 1. The Cicons. 2. The Lotus-eaters, arrived at after 
 passing the island of Cythera. 3. The island where Ulysses 
 and his men hunted the goats, and the adventure with 
 Polyphemus, 4. The island of iEolus, and a ten days’ sail 
 towards the East with a fair wind all the time, till Ithaca is 
 well in sight, followed by an immediate return to the island 
 from which Ulysses had started. This sail to Ithaca over the 
 toe of Italy and the island of Samos has no topographical 
 significance except as showing that the writer conceived 
 of the island of iEolus as lying a long way West of Ithaca. 
 The episode is introduced merely for the purpose of bringing 
 the cup close to Ulysses’ lips and then dashing it from them. 
 5. The Leestrygonians. 6. The island of Circe and the 
 journey to Hades, which last is again without topographical 
 significance, being nothing, but a peg on which to hang 
 colloquies with the dead, and bringing us back to the island of 
 Circe. 7. The Sirens. 8, Scylla and Charybdis. 9. The 
 cattle of the Sun. 10. The island of Calypso. 11. Scheria 
 and Ithaca. 
 
 There is no difference of opinion among scholars as to the 
 sites of the Cicons, the island of Cythera, and the Lotus-eaters ; 
 the reader will, therefore, see that we are taken without waste 
 of time to a point at no great distance from Sicily—the 
 contrary winds off Cape Malea (ix. 81) being apparently raised 
 on purpose to take us away from Greece. It is not quite easy 
 to see why the Cicons were introduced unless it was that 
 Ulysses might become possessed of the wondrous wine of 
 
180 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 Ismarus with which he intoxicated Polyphemus. The wine of 
 this neighbourhood was famous many centuries after the 
 Odyssey was written, and presumably was so in the time of 
 the Odyssey itself. A gasconading story of this wine may well 
 have existed among the people of Trapani which might prompt 
 the reader to introduce it, poke fun at it and make Polyphemus 
 drunk with it. 
 
 Or again, knowing as we do from Thucydides (vi. 2) that 
 the original Sican inhabitants of this part of Sicily received an 
 influx of fugitives from the neighbourhood of Troy after the 
 fall of that city, it is possible that traditions may have existed 
 among the writer’s audience to the effect that some of them 
 were of Cicon origin, and she may have wished to flatter them 
 by telling them that they had repulsed Ulysses. Nothing can 
 be said with any confidence upon this head ; all we may note 
 is that the country is quite featureless, and hence does not 
 suggest drawing from personal knowledge, any more than does 
 the land of the Lotus-eaters. 
 
 On leaving the land of the Lotus-eaters the full consent 
 which has accompanied us so far fails us ; nevertheless a con¬ 
 siderable weight of authority, ancient, medieval, and modern, 
 carries us to the island of Favognana, anciently called iEgusa 
 or Goat Island, as the one on which Ulysses and his men 
 hunted the goats. Indeed this incident seems introduced as 
 though purposely to suggest the ALgadean or “ goat ” islands 
 to the audience, as also does the line iv. 606 in which Ithaca—■ 
 that is to say, in reality, the island of Marettimo—is said to 
 be an island fit for goats.* . 
 
 A very considerable consent accompanies us also to Mt. 
 Eryx as the site of the adventure with Polyphemus. Here, and 
 with the island on which the goats were hunted, the local 
 colour is stronger than anywhere else in Ulysses’ voyages, as 
 indeed might be reasonably expected from a writer whom I 
 have shown to have been so intimately acquainted with the 
 neighbourhood of Trapani, 
 
 * The name Favognana is derived from Favonius, this wind blowing on to Trapani 
 from off tbe island. It is, however, also and perhaps most frequently called 
 Eavignana. 
 
1 
 
 fc ::' » 
 
 
 it. 
 
 ( 
 
 /-•f. 
 
 
 
 . , U ^ X 
 
 < ♦ V 
 
 -■ .:'‘h 
 
 i 
 
 ¥i’,. 
 
 > 
 
{To face i). 181.) 
 
HOW FAR CONSEi^fT ACCOMPANIES US. 
 
 181 
 
 Even partial consent, however, now fails ns. The island of 
 -d^olus and the country of the Lsestrygonians have been placed 
 in almost as many sites as there have been writers upon the 
 Odyssey. I shall return to these on a later page, as also to 
 the island of Favognana and the Cyclopes. My present object 
 is to show how much of the voyage we may consider as known, 
 how much as supported by considerable authority, and how 
 much we have yet to find. 
 
 The partial consent which we lost at the cave of Polyphemus 
 returns to us with the island of Circe, the Sirens and the 
 Wandering Cliffs, which are generally considered to have been 
 the Lipari islands, and universal consent rejoins us for Scylla 
 and Charybdis. I can hardly say that consent is universal for 
 placing the cattle of the Sun on the West coast of Sicily, 
 somewhere about Tauromenium now Taormina; but it is very 
 general, and is so obviously well founded that I shall claim 
 this point as certain; for the name of the island sufficiently 
 indicates Sicily, the winds that detain Ulysses show him to 
 have been on a West coast, and the South wind that blew him 
 back to Charybdis in a night shows that he was supposed to 
 be at no great distance South of the Straits of Messina. 
 
 The island of Calypso has been generally held to be Malta, 
 but on no foundation either internal or external to the Odyssey, 
 1 shall, therefore, consider Calypso’s island as yet to find. 
 
 I have no consent for Scheria being Trapani, but after what 
 I have written above shall claim this point too as certain. 
 The map, therefore, which I here give will show the reader 
 how we stand as regards assent and otherwise ascertained 
 points. I have used strong lines for the parts of the voyage 
 that may be claimed as certain, interrupted lines for the parts 
 that are backed by considerable authority, and dotted lines for 
 those which I would supply. I have made Ulysses approach 
 Trapani from the South, on the strength of Calypso’s directions 
 to him that he was to sail towards the Great Bear, keeping it 
 on his left hand (v. 276 , 277 )."^ This indicates certainly a 
 
 * Gr. T»ii/ yap ptv dvoDys KaXyi/zct) dXa Osdwv 
 
 TTOVTOiropsvips.vai ett’ apiarTapd ^aLpot Ixo/^Taj 
 
182 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 -{Northerly, and one would say a N.N. Easterly, course; at any 
 rate such a course would in no way conflict with Calypso’s 
 instructions. Perhaps I had better give the words of the poem 
 which run ;— 
 
 He sat keeping his eyes upon the Pleiades,^ late setting Bootes, 
 and on the Bear, also called the Wain, which turns round and 
 round facing Orion, and alone never sinks beneath the sea—for 
 Calypso had bidden him steer by this, keeping it on his left hand 
 (v. 272-277). 
 
 All the places in Ulysses’ voyage have been generally 
 referred to some actual locality, which was present to the 
 writer’s mind either under its own or a fictitious name: and 
 when we have once got into Sicilian Waters, all those about 
 which is there is any considerable amount of consent, or which 
 we may now, with or without consent, claim as ascertained— 
 I mean Circe’s island, the Sirens, Scylla and Charybdis, the 
 Thrinacian island, Scheria and Ithaca are on, or hard by, the 
 coast of Sicily. Is not the temptation irresistible to think that 
 the three unknown sites—the island of Aeolus, the Land of the 
 Laostrygonians and the island of Calypso—are also real places 
 however fictitious the names may be, and to hold that they 
 should be looked for on, or near, the coast of Sicily in the 
 same order as that in which we find them described ? 
 
 If, on the hypothesis that Favognana and Mt. Eryx are the 
 true sites of the island on which Ulvsses and his men hunted 
 the goats, and of the cave of Polyphemus, we are immediately 
 led to others, in due order of sequence, which commend them¬ 
 selves as being those of the island of ^olus, the Land of the 
 Laestrygonians, Circe’s island, the other established sites, and 
 
 * We may neglect the Pleiades, as introduced simply because they are in the 
 Iliadic passage (xviii. 486-489) which the writer of the Odyssey is adopting with no 
 other change than taking out the Hyades and Orion, and substituting Bootes. This 
 she was bound to do, fbr she could not make Ulysses steer towards both the Bear and 
 Orion, when she is just going to tell us, as the Iliad does, that Orion is on the other 
 side of the sky. The Pleiades she has allowed to stand—Which of us knows in what 
 quarter of the heavens (let alone the Precession of the Equinoxes) they are to be looked 
 for ?—and it is made quite clear that the Bear is the constellation by which Ulysses is 
 steering. 
 
THE ISLAND OF /EOLUS. 
 
 183 
 
 lastly Calypso’s island, should we not conclude, at any rate 
 provisionally, that the hypothesis is a true one ? 
 
 I will so conclude, and proceed to look for the island of 
 iEolus in some island, apparently solitary, a good way to the 
 West of the Lipari islands, and at no great distance from 
 Mt. Eryx. 
 
 I should first correct a very general misapprehension. The 
 word irXwTri (x. 3) has been unduly pressed into meaning that 
 the island floated about, and thus changed its place. But if 
 so singular a phenomenon were intended more would have been 
 made of it. It would not have been dealt with in a single 
 word, admitting easy explanation as mere metaphor. Ho one 
 presses the “swiftly moving ” islands of xv. 299 into meaning 
 that the islands actually moved. All that is meant is that they 
 “ seemed to move ” as the ship flew past them, and so with 
 the island of ^olus—“it seemed to float on the horizon.” 
 It shows ino signs of having moved during the month that 
 Ulysses stayed on it, and when he returns to it after an absence 
 of three weeks, we have no hint given of its having changed its 
 place.* 1 conclude, therefore, that it was as fixed as any 
 other island, and proceed to look for it. 
 
 This is no hard matter, for the island of Ustica offers itself 
 at once. In clear weather it can be faintly seen from Mt. 
 Eryx, and would naturally have impressed itself on the mind 
 of a writer to whom Eryx and its neighbourhood was all in 
 all. It is in the quarter from which the winds blow most 
 fiercely on Trapani during the winter months, and may fitly 
 have been selected by a Trapanese writer as the home of the 
 winds. The distance, a long way West of the Lipari islands, 
 and a greatly longer distance West of Ithaca, is all as it should 
 be. I accept it, therefore, and go on to look for the land of 
 the Lsestrygonians, and their city Telepylus, at some point on 
 the North coast of Sicily between Ustica and the Lipari 
 islands. 
 
 * At Messina a few months since 1 saw a printed handbill about the hours when 
 the boat would start for Reggio, in which Italy was called “ Terra firma,” as though 
 a sense of instability attached itself to any island. 
 
184 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 , The name of the Laestrygonians or Workers in Stone,* like 
 all names of places or people inside Sicily, is fictitious. If 
 there had ever been any people really so called in Sicily 
 Thucydides would have been able to find out some little, at any 
 rate, about them; whereas he declares (vi. 2) that he cannot 
 do so, and subrisively refers his readers to the poets, or what¬ 
 ever other source of information they can command. Clearly 
 he does not believe in them except as poetical fictions con¬ 
 cerning the most ancient inhabitants of Sicily—of whom none 
 are known to him as more ancient than the Sicans. 
 
 But why should not the writer of the Odyssey be referring 
 under names of her own coinage to these same Sicans, for both 
 the Cyclopes and the Lasstrygonians ? The name of the 
 Laestrygonian city, Telepylus, is certainly fictitious. It means 
 “ with gates far asunder,” which can only be an ex post facto 
 name: a city receives its name long before it is known what it 
 will prove to be in the matter of growth. All that we can 
 gather from the name is that the writer of the Odyssey 
 intended her audience to understand that the city was large. 
 
 Its inhabitants, like the Cyclopes, are giants and ogres. 
 They being giants, we should look for remains of megalithic 
 buildings, and being ogres we should suspect identity of race 
 between them and the Cyclopes whom they so closely resemble. 
 The writer hates them both, and looks down upon the Cyclopes 
 much as the Normans looked down upon the Saxons for some 
 generations after the Conquest. 
 
 The Cyclopes appear to have been subdued and outlawed; 
 not so the L^estrygonians. These last are a flourishing and 
 very industrious people, who work by night as well as by day 
 (x. 84-86). There is a poor little prehistoric joke about them, 
 to the effect that in their country a man could earn double 
 wages if he could only do without sleep. Moreover they were 
 so wealthy and luxurious that they used to have relays of fresh 
 
 * The name seems derived from Xaa?, 'rpvydu), and ala, as -ZEnotria is from oli/o?, 
 rpvydu), and ala. I have read, but forget where, that HUnotria is only a Greek rendering 
 of Italia, which is derived from vites, alo, and some Latin equivalent for ala. The 
 modern Italian word lastricare, “ to pave roads with stone,” is probably derived from 
 the same roots as Lcestrygonian. 
 
V. . ■ 
 
 
 * 
 
 
 V 
 
 t * ' 
 
 
 r- 
 
 f 
 
 
 
WALL AT OEPALTT, RISING PROM THK SEA. 
 
 MEGALITHIC UEAIAINS ON THE AIOENTaIn BEHIND CEPALH. 
 
 {Tu face p. 185), 
 
185 
 
 THE LiESTRYGONIANS AND CEFALU. 
 
 milk (x. 82, 83), instead of being contented with a morning 
 supply, as Sicilian towns generally are even at the present 
 day. More than this 1 cannot collect about them from the 
 Odyssey, 
 
 Can we, then, find a place answering to the description of 
 Telepylus, on the North coast of Sicily between Ustica and the 
 island of Lipari ? I have no hesitation in saying that Cefalh 
 will give ns all we want. It has two fine examples of 
 megalithic work. They must both of them be centuries earlier 
 than the Odyssey. They are about three quarters of a mile 
 apart, one, a wall rising from the sea, the other a building on 
 the hill, behind the town, in part polygonal, and very rude, 
 and in part of much later and singularly exquisite work—the 
 later work being generally held to be of the Mycensean age. 
 
 The city, therefore, must have been for those days extensive. 
 The whole modern town is called among the common people 
 Portazza, i.e.^ portaccia^ or “ wide gate,” which is too like a 
 corrupt mistranslation of Telepylus to allow of my passing 
 it over. 
 
 There can, I think, be no doubt that Eryx and Cefalh were 
 built in a very remote age by people of the same race. I have 
 seen no other megalithic remains in Sicily than at the two 
 places just named; I have seen remains of ancient buildings 
 at Collesano about fifteen miles S.W. of Cefalti, which are 
 commonly called Cyclopean, but they are very doubtful, and 
 Dr. Orsi suspects them, I have little doubt correctly, to be 
 Byzantine. I have also seen a few, neither striking nor yet 
 certain ones, at Capo Schis5 near Taormina. What little is 
 left of the walls of Segesta is of a greatly later age, and I find 
 it very difficult to think that Segesta was in existence when 
 the Odyssey was being written.* I have heard of the remains 
 of a Cyclopean acropolis behind Termini, a monograph about 
 which by Sigr. Luigi Mauceri will be found in the British 
 Museum. At Isnello two hours inland from Collesano a very 
 early necropolis has been discovered not long since, and the 
 
 * Segesta would have been seen from the top of Mt, Eryx gleaming in the summer 
 sunset, and I think there would have been some kind of allusion to it. 
 
180 
 
 THE AUTHOKESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 * efforts of local archaeologists will, I doubt not, lead to the 
 finding of others at or near many of the little known mountain 
 sites in the North of Sicily; Br. Orsi, indeed, has recently 
 discovered the remains of a megalithic house at Pantalica some 
 forty miles inland from Syracuse. No megalithic work, how¬ 
 ever, that has yet been found will cpmpare in importance with 
 the remains at Eryx and Cefalh, nor does it seem likely that 
 any other such remains will be discovered. 
 
 Bearing in mind, then, the situation of Cefalii both as 
 regards Ustica and Lipari, the affinity between its founders 
 and those of Eryx as evidenced by existing remains, its great 
 extent, and the name it still bears among the common people, 
 I do not hesitate to accept it as the city of the La3strygonians, 
 nor does it affect me that the details of the harbour as given 
 in the Odyssey have no correspondence with the place itself. 
 I may mention that when my friend, Mr. H. F. Jones, and 
 myself were at Cefalh in the spring of 1896, we met a flock of 
 goats coming into the town to be milked about five in the 
 afternoon, and on our return from a walk we met another flock 
 coming out after having been just milked. These two flocks 
 must have met, and the shepherds must have saluted one 
 another as in x. 82, 83, but unfortunately we did not happen 
 to be at their point of meeting. 
 
 On enquiry we found that relays of fresh milk come into 
 the town from six till eight in the morning, and from five till 
 seven in the afternoon, and were told that there was no other 
 town known to our informant which had more than a morning 
 supply. At Trapani, a town with 30,000 inhabitants, there is 
 no evening supply, and though I have no doubt that fresh 
 milk can be had in the evening at Palermo, Catania, and 
 Syracuse, it is not easily procurable even in these large towns, 
 while in smaller ones, so far as I know them, it is not to be 
 had at all. At Pome I asked the landlord of my hotel whether 
 the goats came to be milked in the evening as in the morning, 
 and he said it would be only in exceptional cases that they 
 would do so. 
 
 I have now only to find the island of Calypso, which in the 
 Odyssey is called the “ navel ” of the sea (i. 50), a mntaphor 
 
THE LHISTEYGONIANS AND CEFALU. 
 
 187 
 
 alDsolutely impossible of application to any but a solitary 
 island, and probibitive of either Grozo or Malta, or of the other 
 two small islands of the same group. Calypso lives by herself 
 and is cut off from every one else—Ulysses cannot be supposed 
 to have other islands in sight as he sits on the sea shore 
 weeping and looking out upon the waves. Moreover, Scheria 
 being fixed at Trapani, Ulysses could never get there from 
 either Gozo or Malta if he followed the directions of Calypso 
 and steered towards the Great Bear, keeping it on his left 
 hand. We are, therefore, compelled to look for some other 
 island, which shall be more solitary and more S.S.W. of 
 Trapani. 
 
 The island of Pantellaria fulfils both these conditions ; true, 
 in clear weather the coast of Africa can sometimes be just 
 made out—I have seen it from Pantellaria, but it is not 
 sufficiently near or sufficiently often seen to have obtruded 
 itself on Ulysses’ notice; still less so is Mt, Eryx, which can 
 also be seen sometimes, but very rarely. No doubt the island 
 is represented as being a good deal further off Scheria than it 
 really was, but the liberty taken in this respect is not greater 
 than is generally conceded in poetry. 
 
 As, therefore, the writer begins the voyage, when Ulysses is 
 once clear of Trapani, with an island interesting to herself and 
 her audience as being well within their ken, so she ends it 
 with another island which has like claims on her and their 
 attention. 
 
( 188 ) 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 FURTHER DETAILS REGARDING THE VOYAGES OF ULYSSES, TO 
 
 CONFIRM THE VIEW THAT THEY WERE MAINLY A SAIL ROUND 
 
 SICILY, BEGINNING AND ENDING WITH MT. ERYX AND TRAPANI. 
 
 What I have said in the preceding chapter should he 
 enough to establish that the course taken by Ulysses was the 
 one indicated in my map, hut I have remarks to make on the 
 Cyclopes, the wall round the island of jUoIus, the Sirens, the 
 Wandering Cliffs, and other matters connected with the 
 voyages which I have reserved in order to keep the general view 
 more broad and simple. 
 
 The habitat of the Cyclopes on Mt. Eryx is the point which 
 it is most incumbent on me to establish, for if this be conceded, 
 and both Scylla and Charybdis, and Scheria be taken as found, 
 all the other places fall so spontaneously on to the sites I have 
 marked for them, that I fear no dispute concerning them. 
 Let us turn, then, to Favognana and accept it for the moment 
 as the island on which Ulysses hunted the goats. 
 
 Why, I wonder, was the author so careful to invoke a thick 
 darkness, so pompous and circumstantial, aud to pilot Ulysses 
 into the harbour of this island by divine assistance, rather than 
 permit him to look about him and see the land, which was 
 “ not very far ” off. 
 
 The answer is “not very far” to seek. If Ulysses had 
 seen the main land of Sicily as he approached it from that of 
 the Lotus-eaters, he would have been sure to have followed it 
 up, and in this case he would have been taken straight into 
 Trapani harbour. Now, though the writer, as all the audience 
 would know, had already dealt with Trapani, as the last point 
 in all Ulysses’ voyages, Ulysses himself ought not to know 
 anything about it till he comes to it in due course. 
 
 The cave of Polyphemus—still called among the peasants 
 la grotta di Polifemo —was some six or seven miles North of 
 
THE CYCLOPES AND MT. ERYX. 
 
 189 
 
 Trapani; Ulysses had got to be taken there, and if possible, 
 without unsettling either his own mind or that of the audience 
 by showing him a city which eight years later he was to know 
 as Scheria. He could, with the help of a little mist, be just 
 supposed to go from the island of Favognana to the promontory 
 of Pizzolungo and the cave of Polyphemus, without seeing the 
 city of the PhaBacians if he did not look particularly hard in 
 that direction, but even Ulysses would have been compelled to 
 take note of Scheria if he had been allowed to go on till he 
 reached its harbour. It was better, therefore, that some god 
 should take him to the island without letting him see any 
 other land at all, and hence the intense darkness which the 
 writer has been so careful to describe. We shall see that later 
 on (as regards the supposed time, though earlier in the 
 structure of her poem) she invokes a darkness which makes it 
 impossible for Ulysses to form any idea of his whereabouts, in 
 exactly the same place, and for the same reasons (v. 291-294)— 
 for here too it is necessary to get Ulysses from a point 
 South of Trapani, to another on the North side of it without 
 seeing the town. 
 
 My map of the J3gadean islands (p. 177) combined with 
 that of Trapani and Mt. Eryx (p. 164) will show the course 
 Ulysses would make from Favognana to the Groita di PoU~ 
 femo —which is far the largest cave near Trapani, and is still 
 used as a place in which to keep a large flock of sheep by night. 
 The two rocks which Polyphemus threw should be seen, the 
 first as the Asinelli,* and the second as the two small islands 
 called Formiche, which, being close together, are taken as one. 
 
 I find, therefore, in the care taken to prevent Ulysses from 
 seeing Trapani, a considerable argument for the belief that 
 Favognana was the island where Ulysses hunted the goats, 
 and that the cave of Polyphemus was on Mt. Eryx. 
 
 Another indication, though one of no great strength, seems 
 to suggest that the Cyclopes were still near neighbours of the 
 Phaeacians. 
 
 The Asinelli is a single islet much in the shape of a ship heading straight for 
 Favognana. There is nothing plural about it, and one does not see why it should have 
 a plural name. Who were the “ asses ” or “ fools ” ? 
 
190 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 At the beginning of Book vi. we learn that the Phteacians 
 used to live at a place called Hypereia, “near the lawless 
 Cyclopes,” but had of late years been moved to Scheria, which, 
 as I have said, means Jutland. In a passage which I have 
 not given in my abridgement Alcinous says casually (vii. 205, 
 206) that the PliEeacians are as closely related to the gods as 
 the Cyclopes and the giants are. Passing over the fact that 
 Alcinous, being grandson to Neptune, was half nephew to 
 Polyphemus, the s23ontaneousness with which the Cyclopes rise 
 to his mind suggests that though less near than they had been, 
 they were still about the nearest neighbours that he had. 
 
 The giants are only the Cyclopes over again, and are doubt¬ 
 less the descendants of the people who built the noble megalithic 
 walls of Eryx. Hypereia, or Upper-town, was probably at the 
 Eastern end of the top of Mt. Eryx on a site where a very 
 ancient wall, of totally different character to those of the Sican 
 city at the West end of the mountain, may yet be traced. The 
 remains of this wall are just above the Ruccazzu dei Corm^ in 
 Count Pepoli’s grounds, and were first shown me by the Count. 
 A stranger is little likely to find them unless conducted by one 
 who has seen them. 
 
 As regards Hyjiereia I would rejoeat that all the names of 
 places in Sicily with one partial exception are fictitious, even 
 Trinacria, which Thucydides tells us was the most ancient name 
 of Sicily, becoming “ the Thrinacian,” or “ three- 2 )oiuted,” 
 island; whereas as soon as we are outside Sicily the names are 
 real. This affords ground for thinking that the writer was 
 drawing real peo23le as well as real places, and travestying 
 them under flimsy disguises that she knew her audience would 
 see through. Once only is the mask dropped for a moment, 
 when Ulysses says that he had just come from Sicania (xxiv. 
 307), but this does not count, for Ulysses is supposed to be 
 lying. 
 
 The name Cyclopes, for example, or “ round faces ”—for 
 there is nothing in the word to show that it means anything 
 else than this, and I see from Liddell k Scott that Parmenides 
 calls the moon Cyclops—is merely an author’s nick name. If 
 fu-rjXo)-^ means “ a2^ple-faced,”/ct'/cXw-'k should mean “circle- 
 
CYCLOPS MEANS ROUND-FACED. 
 
 191 
 
 faced.” As there is nothing in the word, so neither is there in 
 the Odyssey^ to suggest that the Cyclopes were a people with 
 only one round eye in the middle of their foreheads. Such a 
 marked feature does not go without saying,* and that it did not 
 go with the earliest Greek artists appears from the fact that 
 they always gave Polyphemus two eyes. It is not till Roman 
 times that he becomes monophthalmic, and the Odyssey gives 
 him eyebrows in the plural (ix. 389), which involve eyes in the 
 plural also. True, the writer only blinds one eye, but she 
 could trust to the sympathetic inflammation which so serious 
 an injury would excite in the other eye, and would consider 
 that she had sufficiently blinded both by roasting one of them. 
 One eye alone was blinded, not because Polyphemus had not 
 got two, but because his pole had not got two prongs, and the 
 writer saw neither how to get a bifurcated instrument into the 
 cave, nor how to wield it now that so many of the men had 
 been eaten. 
 
 “ Cyclopes,” therefore, we may be sure, means nothing more 
 than “ moon-faced.” The name Polyphemus is found as that 
 of a hero in the Iliad, and is perhaps a pseudonym for the 
 local giant (if there was one) taken from that poem. Whatever 
 his name may have been, and whether he was a pre-Odyssean 
 giant, or whether the writer of the Odyssey called him into 
 being, he exists now under the name of Conturrano. I have 
 sometimes wondered whether this name may have any connec¬ 
 tion with the Greek words kovto^ and ovpavo^, and may 
 indicate that the giant was so tall as to be able to knock 
 a hole in the sky with his staff. Should this be so, his name, 
 as likely as not was Conturrkno, or something near it, in the 
 days of the Odyssey, and it was with the kovto^ commemorated 
 in his own name that Ulysses blinded him. The giant has 
 grown greatly since the Odyssey was written, and large as the 
 grotta di Polifemo is, he could never get inside it; for he rests 
 
 * Virgil does not let it pass unnoticed. He writes:— 
 
 “ Cernimus adstantes nequidquam lumine torvo 
 .^tnEBOs fratres,.” 
 
 jEn. Ill, 607, 678. 
 
 He calls the Cyclopes “uHtnEean” because he places them on Mt. Etna. 
 
192 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODtSSEY* 
 
 his feet on the plain while he props his stomach on the top of 
 Mt. Eryx, and bending forward plunges his huge hands into 
 the sea between Bonagia and Cofano, to catch tunnies. When 
 disturbed he tears great rocks from the top of Mt. Eryx, and 
 dashes them at all who interrupt him. 
 
 To repeat and to sum up, for I will argue this point no 
 further; I take the Cyclopes to be the conquered remnant of 
 the old Sican inhabitants of Mt. Eryx. They owe their 
 gigantic stature to the huge size of the stones with which 
 the walls of their city on Mt. Eryx were built. These stones 
 show few or no signs of having been worked with a tool of 
 hardened bronze or iron, save in so far as the Phoenicians may 
 have trimmed them here and there when they rebuilt the walls, 
 in part, de novo, with stones some of which bear quarry-men’s 
 marks in Phoenician characters.The old Sican work, a good 
 deal of which has been allowed to stand, belongs to the true 
 megalithic age, when it was cheaper to carry than to cut; 
 later generations, failing to consider the revolution which the 
 introduction of improved methods of cutting had effected, 
 argued that the men who built with such large stones must 
 have been large men, whereas in reality they were only 
 economical men. 
 
 As soon as it became cheaper to cut than to carry, the huge 
 unwieldy blocks that we see at Eryx, at Cefalh, and at Segni, 
 Arpino, Allatri, and many another cit}^ in Southern Italy, 
 became obsolete, but it was still long before all irregularity in 
 the courses was abandoned for that perfect regularity which 
 we find at Syracuse, Selinunte, the temple of Segesta, and 
 nearly all the Greek and Roman architecture of historic times. 
 Indeed I know many buildings as late as the tenth century 
 after Christ, in which the courses are far from regular ; never¬ 
 theless the tendency, almost immediately after cutting had 
 become cheaper, was towards greater regularity of courses and 
 the use of smaller stones, until there arose another megalithi- 
 cisni, of a kind diametrically opposed to that of the earlier 
 builders—I mean the megalithicism of display. 
 
 * There is no Phoenician work in the bastion shown in my illustration, the restora.- 
 tions here are medieval. 
 
£r 
 
 fi. FESTING JOKES, ESQ. (height 6 ft. 2in.) IN FLUTE OF COLUMN AT SELINUNTE. 
 
 {Tofaee p. 193.) 
 
 REMAINS OF MEGALITUIC M ALLS ON MT. EUYX 
 
TWO KINDS OF MEGALITHICISM. 
 
 193 
 
 There are stones at Selinunte, used in buildings of the fifth 
 century before Christ, that are larger than the largest at Eryx 
 or Cefalii; there are columns thirteen feet in diameter at the 
 base, and in a flute of which my friend Mr. H. F. Jones could 
 stand; but they are written all over in clear though invisible 
 characters with the word “ Glory,” whereas the stones at Eryx 
 bear not less clearly the word “ Economy.” I do not think 
 that any true megalithic polygonal walls not worked with 
 metal can be dated much later than 2000 b.c. By the time 
 we reach such buildings as the Treasury of Atreus at Mycene, 
 or the Iliadic wall of Hissarlik (which, however, is built in far 
 less regular courses), cutting, whether with chisels of hardened 
 bronze, or more probably by that time with iron, has ceased to 
 be troublesome; nevertheless as late as Hesiod, who is not 
 generally dated earlier than 1000 b.c., the memory of an age 
 when “ as yet swart iron was not,” had not been lost. {Works 
 and Days^ 148-151.) 
 
 Furthermore, I would ask the reader to remark how closely 
 the description of the Cyclopes in the Odyssey tallies with that 
 of the modern Sicilian brigands published in the Times of 
 September 24th, 1892. 
 
 The writer—Mr. Stigand—says :— 
 
 S. Mauro, the headquarters of the brigands, is a town on the top 
 of a mountain 3000 feet high, and in sight of Geraei Siculo, another 
 town of about the same height, and of Pollina, also on the summit 
 of another mountain. The roads among the mountains, connecting 
 these towns, are mere mule paths. The mountains abound in caves 
 known only to the brigands and shepherds. 
 
 The Odyssey says of the Cyclopes :— 
 
 They have neither places of assembly nor laws, but they live in 
 caves on the tops of high mountains; each one of them rules over 
 his own wife and children, and they take no account of any one else 
 (ix. 112-115). 
 
 I saw several families of cave-dwellers at a place called 
 le grotte degli Sciirati on Cofano about fifteen miles Horth of 
 Trapani. There was, however, nothing of the Cyclops about 
 them. Their caves were most beautifully clean and as comfort- 
 
 o 
 
194 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 . able as tlie best class of Englisli cottages. The people, who 
 were most kind and hospitable, were more fair than dark, and 
 might very well have passed for English. They provided iis 
 with snow white table cloths and napkins for the lunch which 
 we had brought from Trapani, and they gave us any quantity 
 of almonds fried in a little salt and butter ; most unexpected 
 of all, the salt they brought ns was mixed with chervil seed* 
 There was an atrocious case of brigandage on Cofauo about a 
 fortnight later than our pic-nic. A Palermo merchant was 
 kept a whole month on the mountain till he was ransomed, but 
 I am sure that our cave-dwellers had nothing to do with it. 
 The caves bore traces of prehistoric man by wuay of ancient 
 meals now petrified. 
 
 It is noticeable that forms of the word o-Treo? or avrpov 
 (cave) appear forty-five times in the Odyssey as against only 
 six in the Iliad^ which, allowing for the greater length of the 
 last named poem, is about in the proportion of 10 :1. We may 
 surmise, therefore, that the Odyssey hails from a district in 
 wdiich caves abounded. 
 
 As regards “ the wall of bronze ” which the writer of the 
 Odyssey tells us ran round the island of ^Eolus, it is hard to 
 say whether it was purely fiction or no. We may be sure that 
 it was no more made of bronze than ^olus was king of the 
 winds, but all round the island of Marettimo, wherever the 
 cliffs do not protect it naturally, there existed a wall of long 
 pre-Odyssean construction, traces of which were shown me by 
 Bigr. Tedesco and Professor Spadaro, without whose assistance 
 I should not have observed them. I have sometimes wondered 
 whether the writer may not have transferred this wall to Ustica, 
 as we shall see later that she transferred the hump on Thersites’ 
 back to that of Eurybates ; but no traces of any such wall 
 
 exist so far as I know on Ustica, nor yet on the islands of 
 
 ♦ 
 
 Eavognana or Levanzo. The ancient name of Marettimo was 
 Hiera, and about 1,900 feet above the sea I was shown ruins 
 (not striking) of exceedingly ancient walls on a small plateau 
 which the inhabitants dare not cross by night, and which is 
 believed to have been the site of the cult that gave its name to 
 the island. 
 
^OLUS, CIRCE, THE SIRENS. 
 
 195 
 
 Wliat I have to say about Circe’s island is so speculative 
 that 1 write it in fear and trembling. I see that Circe’s house 
 is, like Eumgeus’s pig farm, “in a place that can be seen from 
 far” (x. 211), and I see also that Ulysses approaches it “over 
 the top of the mountain” (x. 281), as he does Eumasiis’s hut 
 (xiv. 2). I remember the pigs, and I cannot refrain from 
 thinking that though the writer tells us in the first instance 
 that the island was a low one (x. 196), her inability to get 
 away from her own surroundings is too much for her, and she 
 is drifting on to the top of Mt» Eryx and Eumgeus’s pig farm. 
 She does not mean to have pigs at first—the men whom Circe 
 bewitched on previous occasions were turned into wolves and 
 lions—but the force of association is too strong for her, and 
 Ulysses’ men are turned into pigs after all. 
 
 The fall of Elpenor from the top of Circe’s house is a very 
 singular way of killing him. If he had been at Enmaeus’s hut 
 she could not have killed him more naturally than by letting 
 him tumble off the precq3ice that overhangs it, and on the top 
 of which the temple of Yenus stood in later ages. I suspect, 
 not without shame, that the wall of Circe’s house is made to 
 do duty for this precipice. 
 
 On the island of Panaria, anciently Euonymus, among the 
 Lipari group, there is a small bay called La Caletta dei 
 Zummari, which suggests a corruption of Cimmerii, but I have 
 already explained that no attempt should be made to localise 
 the journey to Hades. 
 
 The two Sirens can be placed with, I should say, confidence, 
 on the island of Salina, anciently called Uidyme from the two 
 high mountains, each about 3000 feet high, of which it consists. 
 Sudden cat’s paws of very violent wind descend at times from 
 all high points near the sea in this part of the Mediterranean, 
 as from Cofano near Trapani, where there is a saying among- 
 the fishermen “ware Cofano.” My friend. Signor E. Biaggini,. 
 whose loss I have to deplore within the last twelve months,, 
 and who has furnished me over and over again with local 
 details, told me that he once was all but capsized by a gust 
 from Cofano, that came down on his boat in perfectly calm 
 weather, and lasted hardly more than a few seconds. I take it 
 
 o 2 
 
196 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 that the two Sirens—who are always winged in the earlier 
 Greek representations of them—were, as indeed their name 
 suggests, the whistling gusts or avalanches of air that descended 
 without the slightest warning from the two mountains of 
 Didyme. The story turned from poetry into prose means, 
 Woe to him who draws near the two treacherous mountains 
 of Didyme ; the coast is strewn with wreckage, and if he hears 
 the wind from off them shriek in his rigging his bones will 
 whiten the shore.” The reader will remember that the Sirens’ 
 island is very near Circe’s. 
 
 Speaking of the JSolian islands Admiral Smyth says :— 
 
 Whether from the heat of the water by volcanic springs, the 
 steam of Vulcanella. the incessant hot injections from Stromboli, or 
 all of them added to the general temperature, it is certain that there 
 are more frequent changes in this group than in the neighbourhood 
 {^The Mediterranean, Parkers, 1854, p. 250). 
 
 Speaking, again, of the Straits of Messina, he says : — 
 
 Precautions should also be taken against the heavy gusts, which 
 at times, from the mountainous nature of the coasts, rush down the 
 Puimare, and are dangerous to small vessels. I have twice, with 
 grief, seen the neglect of them prove fatal (^Sicily and its Islands, 
 Murray, 1824, p. 111). 
 
 The reason why the poetess found herself in such difficulties 
 about the Wandering Cliffs, is because the story, as Buttmann 
 has said, does not refer to any two islands in particular, but is 
 derived from traveller’s tales about the difficulties of navigating 
 the Lipari islands as a whole. “ They close in upon you,” it 
 was said, “ so quickly one after another that a bird can hardly 
 get through them.” The “ hurricanes of fire,” moreover (xii. 
 68), suggest an allusion to the volcanic nature of the ^olian 
 islands generally. Still more so does the dark cloud that never 
 leaves the top of Scylla’s rock (xii. 74) neither in summer nor 
 winter. 
 
 The terrors of Scylla and Charybdis are exaggerated in the 
 same poetic vein as the Sirens and the Wandering Cliffs. 
 Instead of its being possible to shoot an arrow from the one to 
 the other, they are about eight miles apart. We ought not to 
 
ADMIKAL SMYTH. 
 
 197 
 
 look for the accuracy of one of Mr. Murray’s handbooks in a 
 narrative that tells ns of a monster with six heads and three 
 rows of teeth. It is enangh if there are a few grains of truth, 
 and these there are r for Scylla is a high rock looking West, 
 and Charybdis is (for those days) a formidable whirlpool, on 
 the other side the Straits, off lower ground, and hard by the 
 approach to a three pointed island. According to Admiral 
 Smyth it is just outside Messina harbour, and is now called 
 Galofaro. Admiral Smyth says of it:— 
 
 To the undecked boats of the Rliegians, Locrians, Zanoleans and 
 Greeks, it must have been formidable ; for even in the present day 
 small craft are sometimes endangered by it, and I have seen several 
 men-of-war, and even a seventy-four-gun ship, whirled round on ita 
 surface; but by using due caution there is generally very little 
 danger or inconvenience to be apphrehended {Sicily and its Islandsy 
 Murray, 1824, p. 123). 
 
 I do not doubt that the Galofaro is the nucleus round which 
 the story of Charybdis gathered, but I have seen considerable 
 disturbance in the sea all through the Straits of Messina. 
 Very much depends upon the state of the winds, which some¬ 
 times bank the water up in the angle between the toe of Italy 
 and the North coast of Sicily, on which a current and strong 
 eddies occur in the Straits of Messina. At other timeS' there is 
 hardly anything noticeable. 
 
 Passing over the nine days drifting in the sea, which take 
 Ulysses from Charybdis to the island of Calypso, i.e. Pantel- 
 laria—and we may be sure he would have been made to take 
 longer time if the writer had dared to keep him longer without 
 food and water—it only remains for me to deal at somewhat 
 fuller length than I have yet done with the voyage from 
 Pantellaria to Trapani. On the eighteenth day after Ulysses 
 had left Pantellaria, steering towards the Great Bear, but 
 keeping it on his left, he saw the long low line of the Lilyba3an 
 coast rising on the horizon. He does not appear to have seen 
 the island of Favognana, which must have been quite near, 
 and it was perhaps as well that he did not, for he could hardly 
 have failed to recognise it as the one on which he had hunted 
 
108 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 the goats some eight or nine years previonsly, and this might 
 have puzzled him. 
 
 But though he is allowed to see the land he must not be 
 permitted to follow it up, or, as I have explained already, he 
 would have gone straight into the harbour of Scheria, whereas 
 he is particularly wanted to meet Nausicaa on the North side 
 of the town, and to know nothing about Scheria till she brings 
 him to it. Neptune, therefore, is made to catch sight of him 
 at this moment and to raise a frightful hurricane ; sea and sky 
 become obscured in clouds, with a darkness as dense as night 
 (v. 291-294), and thus Ulysses is carried a long distance 
 apparently to the North, for when he has been taken far 
 enough, Minerva blows him two days and two nights before a 
 North wind, and hence Southwards, till he reaches the harbour 
 near which Nausicaa can meet him. 
 
 There are no other such noticeable darknesses in the 
 Odyssey^ as this and the one of Book ix. 144, alluded to on 
 p. 188. They both occur in the same place, and for the same 
 reason—^to keep the town of Scheria in reserve. 
 
 I have now shown that all the Ithacan scenes of the 
 Odyssey are drawn with singular fidelity from Trapani and 
 its neighbourhood, as also all the Scherian; moreover, I have 
 shown that the Ionian islands are in reality drawn from the 
 ^gadean group oif Trapani; lastly I have shown that the 
 voyage of Ulysses in effect begins with Trapani and ends with 
 Trapani again. I need not deal with Pylos and Lacedaemon 
 beyond showing that they were far removed from the know¬ 
 ledge of either writer or audience. 
 
 There is not a single natural feature mentioned in either 
 case. The impossible journey of Telemachus and Pisistratus 
 from Pheree to LacedaBmon in a chariot and pair over the lofty, 
 and even now roadless, range of Mt. Taygetus, causes no un¬ 
 easiness to the writer. She gives no hint of any mountain to 
 be crossed—from which we may infer, either that she knew 
 nothing of the country between Pylos and Laced®mon, or that 
 at any rate her audience would not do so. It may, however, 
 
THE TWO DARKNESSES OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 199 
 
 be remarked tliat the West wind which Minerva provided in 
 order to take Telemachns from Ithaca to Pylos, was more 
 suitable for taking him from Sicily. A North wind would 
 have been better for him if he had been coming from the real 
 Ithaca, but Minerva manages things so strangely that I would 
 not press this point. 
 
 
 / 
 
( 200 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 WHO WAS THE WRITER ? 
 
 I BELIEVE the reader will by this time feel no doubt, from 
 my earlier Chapters that the Odyssey was written by one 
 woman, and from my later ones that this woman knew no 
 other neighbourhood than that of Trapani, and therefore must 
 be held to have lived and written there. 
 
 Who, then, was she ? 
 
 I cannot answer this question with the confidence that 1 
 have felt hitherto. So far I have been able to demonstrate the 
 main points of my argument; on this, the most interesting 
 question of all, I can offer nothing stronger than presumption. 
 
 We have to find a woman of Trapani, youug, fearless, self- 
 willed, and exceedingly jealous for the honour of her sex. She 
 seems to have moved in the best society of her age and country, 
 for we can imagine none more polished on the West coast of 
 Sicily in Odyssean times than the one with which the writer 
 shews herself familiar. She must have had leisure, or she 
 could not have carried through so^ great a work. She puts up 
 with men when they are necessary or illustrious, but she is 
 never enthusiastic about them, and likes them best when she 
 is laughing at them; but she is cordially interested in fair 
 and famous women. 
 
 I think she should be looked for in the household of the 
 person whom she is travestying under the name of King 
 Alcinous. The care with which his pedigree and that of his 
 wife Arete is explained (vii. 5.4-77), and the warmth of affec¬ 
 tionate admiration with which Arete is always treated, have 
 the same genuine flavour that has led scholars to see true 
 history and personal interest in the pedigree of ^Kneas given 
 in 11. XX. 200-241. Moreover, she must be a suffciently 
 intimate member of the household to be able to laugh at its 
 
WHAT WE HAVE TO FIND. 
 
 201 
 
 head as much as she chose. No pedigree of any of the other 
 dramatis personae of the Odyssey' is given save that of Theo- 
 clymenus, whose presence in the poem at all requires more 
 explanation than I can give. I can only note that he was of 
 august descent, more than snh-clerical, and of a different stamp 
 from any other character to whom we are introduced. 
 
 The fact that the writer should he looked for in a member 
 of King Alcinous’ household seems further supported by the 
 zest with which this household and garden are described (vii. 
 81-132), despite the obviously subrisive exaggeration which 
 pervades the telling. There is no such zest in the description 
 of any other household, and the evident pleasure which the 
 writer takes in it is more like that of a person drawing her 
 own home, than either describing some one else’s or creating 
 an imaginary scene. See how having begun in the past tense 
 she slides involuntarily into the present as soon as she comes 
 to the women of the house and to the garden. She never does 
 this in any other of her descriptions. 
 
 Lastly, she must be looked for in one to whom the girl 
 described as Nausicaa was all in alL No one else is drawn 
 with like livingness and enthusiasm, and no other episode is 
 written with the same, or nearly the same, buoyancy of spirits 
 and resiliency of pulse and movement, or brings the scene 
 before ns with anything approaching the same freshness, as 
 that in which Nausicaa takes the family linen to the washing 
 cisterns. The whole of Book vi. can only have been written 
 by one who was throwing herself into it heart and soul. 
 
 All the three last paragraphs are based on the supposition 
 that the writer was drawing real people. That she was 
 drawing a real place, lived at that place, and knew no other,, 
 does not admit of further question ; we can pin the writer down 
 here by reason of the closeness with which she has kept to 
 natural features that remain much as they were when she 
 pourtrayed them; but ne traces of Alcinous’s house and 
 garden, nor of the inmates of his household will be even looked 
 for by any sane person ; it is open, therefore, to an objector to 
 contend that though the writer does indeed appear to have 
 drawn permanent features from life, we have no evidence that 
 
202 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 slie drew houses and gardens and men and women from any¬ 
 thing bnt her own imagination. 
 
 Granted ; bnt surely, in the first place, if we find her keeping 
 to her own neighbourhood as closely as she can whenever the 
 permanency of the features described enables us to be certain 
 of what she did, there is a presumption that she was doing the 
 same thing in cases where the evidence has been too fleeting 
 to allow of onr bringing her to book. And secondly, we have 
 abundant evidence that the writer did not like inventing. 
 
 Richly endowed with that highest kind of imagination which 
 consists in wise selection and judicious application of materials 
 derived from life, she fails, as she was sure to do, when cut off 
 from a base of operation in her own surroundings. This 
 appears most plainly in the three books which tell of the 
 adventures of Ulysses after he has left Mt. Eryx and the 
 Cyclopes. There is no local detail in the places described; 
 nothing, in fact, but a general itinerary such as she could easily 
 get from the mariners of her native town. With this she 
 manages to rub along, helping herself out with fragments 
 taken from nearer home, but there is no approach to such 
 plausible invention as we find in Gullimrs Travels, Robinson 
 Crusoe, or RilgrinTs Progress ; and when she puts a description 
 of the land of Hades into the mouth of Circe (x. 508-515)— 
 which she is aware must be something unlike anything she 
 had ever witnessed—she breaks down and gives us a scene 
 which carries no conviction. Fortunately not much detail is 
 necessary here; in Ithaca, however, a great deal is wanted, 
 and feeling invention beyond her strength she does not even 
 attempt it, but has recourse with the utmost frankness to 
 places with which she is familiar. 
 
 Not only does she shirk invention as much as possible in 
 respect of natural features, but she does so also as regards 
 incident. She can vilipend her neighbours on Mt. Eryx as the 
 people at Trapani continue doing to this day, for there is no 
 love dost between the men of Trapani and those of Mte. S. 
 Giuliano, as Eryx is now called. She knows Ustica : the wind 
 comes thence, and she can make something out of that; then 
 there is the other great Sican city of Cefalh—a point can be 
 
SHE DISLIKES INVEHTIOH. 
 
 203 
 
 made here; but with the Lipari islands her material is 
 running short. She has ten years to kill, for which, how¬ 
 ever, eight or eight-and-a-half may be made to pass. She 
 cannot have killed more than three months before she lands 
 her hero on Circe’s island; here, then, in pity’s name let 
 him stay for at any rate twelve months—which he accordingly 
 does. 
 
 She soon runs through her resources for the Sirens’ island, 
 and Scylla and Charybdis; she knows that there is nothing 
 to interest her on the West coast of Sicily below Taormina— 
 for Syracuse (to which I will return) was still a small pre- 
 Corinthian settlement, while on the South coast we have no 
 reason to believe that there was any pre-Hellenic city. What, 
 she asked herself, could she do but shut Ulysses up in the most 
 lonely island she could think of—the one from which he would 
 have the least chance of escaping—for the remainder of his 
 term ? She chose, therefore, the island which the modern 
 Italian Government has chosen, for exactly the same reasons, 
 as the one in which to confine those who cannot be left at 
 large—the island of Pantellaria; but she was not going to 
 burden Calypso for seven long years with all Ulysses’ men, so 
 his ship had better be wrecked. 
 
 This way out of the difficulty does not indicate a writer of 
 fecund or mature invention. She knew the existence of Sar¬ 
 dinia, for Ulysses smiles a grim Sardinian smile (xx. 302). Why 
 not send him there, and describe it with details taken not from 
 the North side of Trapani but from the South ? Or she need 
 not have given details at all —she might have sent him very 
 long journeys extending over ever so many years in half a page. 
 If she had been of an inventive turn there were abundant 
 means of keejoing him occupied without having recourse to the 
 cheap and undignified expedient of shutting him up first for a 
 year in one island, and then for seven in another. Having 
 made herself so noble a peg on which to hang more travel and 
 adventure, she would have hung more upon it, had either 
 strength or inclination pointed in that direction. It is one of 
 the commonplaces of Homeric scholars to speak of the voyages 
 of Ulysses as “ a story of adventurous travel.” So in a way 
 
204 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 , they are, but one can see all tbrougb that the writer is 
 trying to reduce the adventurous travel to a minimum. 
 
 See how hard put to it she is when she is away from her 
 own actual surroundings. She does not repeat her incidents so 
 long as she is at home, for she has plenty of material to draw 
 from; when she is away from home, do what she may, she 
 cannot realise things so easily, and has a tendency to fall hack 
 on something she has already done. Thus, at Pylos, she 
 repeats the miraculous flight of Minerva (iii. 372) which she 
 had used i. 320. On reaching the land of the Lsestrygonians 
 Ulysses climbs a high rock to reconnoitre, and sees no sign of 
 inhabitants save only smoke rising from the ground—at the 
 very next place he comes to he again climbs a high rock to 
 reconnoitre, and apparently sees no sign of inhabitants but 
 only the smoke of Circe’s house rising from the middle of a 
 wood. He is conducted to the house of Alcinous by a girl who 
 had come out of the town to fetch a pitcher of water (vii. 20) ; 
 this is repeated (x. 105) when Ulysses’ men are conducted to 
 the house of the Lgestrygonian Antiphates, by a girl who had 
 come out of the town to fetch a pitcher of water. The writer 
 has invented a sleep to ruin Ulysses just as he was well in sight 
 of Ithaca (x. 31, &c.). This is not good invention, for such 
 a moment is the very last in which Ulysses would be likely to 
 feel sleepy—but the eflbrt of inventing something else to ruin 
 him when his men are hankering after the cattle of the Sun 
 is quite too much for her, and she repeats (xii. 366) the sleep 
 which had proved so effectual already. So, as I have said 
 above, she repeats the darkness on each occasion when Ulysses 
 seems likely to stumble upon Trapani. Calypso, having been 
 invented once, must do duty again as Circe—or vice versd, for 
 Book x. was jDrobably written before Book v. 
 
 Such frequent examples of what I can only call consecutive 
 octaves indicate a writer to whom invention does not come 
 easily, and who is not likely to have recourse to it more than 
 she can help. Having shown this as regards both places and 
 incidents, it only remains to point out that the writer’s dislike 
 of invention extends to the invention of people as well as places. 
 The j)i*incipal characters in the Odyssey are of all of them 
 
CONSECUTIVE OCTAVES. 
 
 205 
 
 Sclierian. Nestor, Ulysses, Menelans and Alcinons are every 
 one of them the same person playing other parts, and the 
 greater zest with which Alcinons is drawn suggests, as I have 
 said in an earlier Chapter, that the original from whom they 
 are all taken was better known to the writer in the part of 
 Alcinons than in that of any of the other three. Penelope, 
 Helen, and Arete are only one person, and 1 always suspect 
 Penelope to be truer to the original than either of the other 
 two. Idothea and Ino are both of them Nansicaa ; so also are 
 Circe and Calypso, only made up a little older, and doing ^is 
 the writer thinks Nansicaa would do if she were a goddess and 
 had an establishment of her own. I am more doubtful about 
 these two last, for they both seem somewhat more free from 
 that man-hatred which Nansicaa hardly attempts to conceal. 
 Still, Nansicaa contemplates marrying as soon as she can find 
 the right person, and, as we have seen, neither Circe nor 
 Calypso had a single man-servant of their own, while Circe 
 was in the habit of turning all men who came near her into 
 pigs or wild beasts. Calypso, moreover, is only made a little 
 angry by being compelled to send Ulysses away. She does 
 not seem to have been broken-hearted about it. Neither of 
 them, therefore, must be held to be more fond of men than 
 the convenience of the poem dictated. Even the common 
 people of Ithaca are Scherians, and make exactly the same 
 fault-finding ill-natured remarks about Penelope (xxiii. 
 149-151) as the Phaeacians did about Nansicaa in Book vi, 
 273-288. 
 
 If, then, we observe that where the writer’s invention is 
 more laboured she is describing places foreign to her own 
 neighbourhood, while when she carries conviction she is at or 
 near her own home, the presumption becomes very strong that 
 the more spontaneous scenes are not so much invention as a 
 rendering of the writer’s environment, to which it is plain that 
 she is passionately attached, however much she may sometimes 
 gird at it. I, therefore, dismiss the supposition of my sup¬ 
 posed objector that the writer was not drawing Alcinons’ 
 household and garden from life, and am confirmed in this 
 opinion by remembering that the house of Ulysses corresponds 
 
206 
 
 THE AUrHORESS OP THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 .perfectly with that of Alcinoiis—even to the number of the 
 women servants kept in each establishment. 
 
 Being limited to a young v^^oman who was an intimate 
 member of Alcinons’ household, we have only to choose 
 between some de|)endant who idolised Nausicaa and wished to 
 celebrate her with all her surroundings, or Nausicaa (whatever 
 her real name may have been) herself. Or again, it may be 
 urged that the poem was written by some bosoni friend of 
 Nausicaa’s who was very intimate with the family, as for 
 example Captain Dymas’s d-aughter. 
 
 The intimate friend theory may be dismissed at once. High 
 spirited girls, brilliant enough to write the Odyssey are not so 
 self effacing as to keep themselves entirely out of sight. If a 
 friend had written the washing day episode, the friend would 
 have come a washing too—especially after having said she 
 would in Nausicaa’s dream. 
 
 If, again, a dependant had written it, Hausicaa would 
 neither have had the heart nor the power to suppress her 
 altogether ; for if she tried to do so the dependant—so daring 
 and self-willed as the writer proves herself to be—would have 
 been more than a match for her mistress. We may be sure 
 that there were not two such spirits in Trapani, as we must 
 suppose if we make Hausicaa able to bow the will of the 
 authoress of the Odyssey. The fact that in the washing day 
 episode, so far as possible, we find Hausicaa, all Hausicaa, and 
 nothing but Hausicaa, among the female dramatis jpersoncE^ 
 indicates that she was herself the young woman of Trapani, a 
 member of the household of King Alcinous, whom we have got 
 to find, and that she was giving herself the little niche in her 
 work which a girl who was writing such a work was sure to 
 give herself, 
 
 A dej^endant would not have dared to laugh at Alcinous 
 with such playful malice as the writer has done. Again she 
 would have made more of Kausicaa herself in the scenes that 
 follow. At present she is left rather as a ragged edge, and 
 says good bye to Ulysses in Book viii. 460, &c., with much less 
 detail, both as regards her own speech and that of Ulysses in 
 reply, than a courtier-like dependant would have permitted. 
 
NAUSICAA LIVED APAKT. 
 
 207 
 
 She does not hear Ulysses’ account of his adventures—which 
 she might perfectly well have done under her mother’s wing. 
 She does not appear to take her meals with the rest of the 
 family at all. When she returns from washing, Enrymedusa 
 brings her supper into her own room. She is not present at 
 any of Alcinous’ banquets, nor yet at the games, and her 
 absence from the farewell scene in Book xiii. is too marked to 
 be anything but intentional. It seems as though she wished 
 the reader to understand that she lived apart, and however 
 much she might enjoy an outing with her maids, would have 
 nothing to do with the men who came night after night 
 drinking her father’s best wine, and making havoc of his 
 estate. In passing, I may say that the strangeness of the 
 manner in which Nausicaa says good bye to Ulysses is one of 
 the many things which convince me that the Odyssey has 
 never been recast by a later hand. A person recasting the 
 work would have been tolerably sure to have transferred the 
 leave-taking to Book xiii. 
 
 Nausicaa, again, would have been more than human if she 
 had permitted any one but herself to put into her mouth the 
 ill-natured talk about her which she alleges to pass current 
 among the Phseaciaus. She would not mind saying it herself 
 when her audience, private or public, would know that she was 
 doing so, but a dependant would have been requested to be 
 less pungent. 
 
 I admit as I have already done that these arguments are 
 not absolutely demonstrative, but it being, I may say, demon¬ 
 strated that we must choose between Nausicaa and some other 
 young woman of Trapani who lived in, or was very closely 
 intimate with, the household of King Alcinous, I have no 
 hesitation in saying that I think Kausicaa herself more likely 
 than this other unknown young woman to have been the 
 writer we are seeking. 
 
 Let the reader look at my frontispiece and say whether he 
 would find the smallest difficulty in crediting the original of 
 the portrait with being able to write the Odyssey. Would he 
 refuse so to credit her merely because all he happened to know 
 about her for certain was that she once went out washing 
 
208 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 clothes with her attendants ? Nansicaa enjoyed a jaunt on a 
 fine spring morning and helped her maids at the washing 
 cisterns; therefore it is absurd to suppose that she could have 
 written the Odyssey. I venture to think that this argument 
 will carry little weight outside the rank and file of our 
 Homerists—greatly as I dislike connecting this word however 
 remotely with the Odyssey. 
 
 No artist can reach an ideal higher than his own best actual 
 environment. Trying to materially improve upon that with 
 which he or she is fairly familiar invariably ends in failure. 
 It is only adjuncts that may be arranged and varied—the 
 essence may be taken or left, but it must not be bettered. The 
 attempt to take nature and be content with her save in respect 
 of details which after all are unimportant, leads to Donatello, 
 Giovanni Bellini, Holbein, Rembrandt, and De Hooghe—the 
 attempt to improve upon her leads straight to Michael Angelo 
 and the barocco^ to Turner and the modern drop scene. There 
 is not a trace of the harocco in my frontispiece; we may be 
 confident, therefore, that such women, though doubtless com¬ 
 paratively rare, yet existed, as they exist in Italy now, in 
 considerable numbers. Is it a very great stretch of imagination 
 to suppose that one among them may have shown to equal 
 advantage whether as driver, washerwoman, or poetess ? At 
 the same time I think it highly probable that the writer of 
 the Odyssey was both short and plain, and was laughing at 
 herself, and intending to make her audience laugh also, by 
 describing herself as tall and beautiful. She may have been 
 either plain or beautiful without its affecting the argument. 
 
 I wish I could find some one who would give me any serious 
 reason why Nausicaa should not have written the Odyssey. 
 For the last five years I have pestered every scholar with whom 
 I have been able to scrape acquaintance, by asking him to 
 explain why the Odyssey should not have been written by a 
 young woman. One or two have said that they could see none 
 whatever, but should not like to commit themselves to a definite 
 opinion without looking at the work again. One well-known 
 and very able writer said that when he had first heard of the 
 question as being mooted, he had supposed it to be some 
 
SCHOLARS AND THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 209 
 
 paradox of my own, but on taking up the Odyssey lie had 
 hardly read a hundred lines before he found himself saying 
 “ Why of course it is.” The greater number, however, gave 
 me to understand that they should not find it a difficult matter 
 to expose the absurdity of my contention if they were not 
 otherwise employed, but that for the present they must wish 
 me a very good morning. They gave me nothing, but to do 
 them justice before I had talked with them for five minutes I 
 saw that they had nothing to give with which I was not already 
 familiar. The Odyssey is fiir too easy, simple, and straight¬ 
 forward for the understanding of scholars—as I said in my 
 Biitle?' of Shrewsbury^ if it had been harder to 
 understand, it would have been sooner understood—and yet I 
 do not know; the Iliad is indeed much harder to understand, 
 but scholars seem to have been very sufficiently able to misunder¬ 
 stand it. 
 
 Every scholar has read a Book or two of the Odyssey here 
 and there; some have read the whole; a few have read it 
 through more than once ; but none that I have asked have so 
 much as been able to tell me whether Ulysses had a sister or 
 no—^much less what her name was. Not one of those whom 
 I have as yet had the good fortune to meet in England—for I 
 have met with such in Sicily—-have saturated themselves Avith 
 the poem, and that, too, unhampered by a single preconceived 
 idea in connection with it. Nothing short of this is of the 
 smallest use. 
 
 p 
 
( ) 
 
 CHAPTER XIL 
 
 THE DATE OF THE POEM, AND A COMPARISON OF THE STATE OF 
 
 THE NORTH WESTERN PART OF SICILY AS REVEALED TO US 
 
 IN THE ODYSSEY, WITH THE ACCOUNT GIVEN BY THUCYDIDES 
 
 OF THE SAME TERRITORY IN THE EARLIEST KNOWN TIMES. 
 
 The view that the Odyssey was written at Trapani will 
 throw unexpected light upon the date of the poem. We can 
 never date it within a hundred years or so, but I shall attempt 
 to show that we must place it very little, if at all, later than 
 1050, and not earlier than 1150 b.c. 
 
 I see that I may claim Professor Jebb’s authority as to 
 some extent, at any rate, supporting the later of these two 
 dates. He writes :— 
 
 With regard to the age of the Odyssey^ we may suppose that the 
 original “Peturn” was composed in Greece Proper as early as the 
 Eleventh Century b.c., and that the first enlargement had been 
 made before 850 b.c.^ 
 
 I have shown why I cannot admit that any part of the 
 Odyssey was written in Greece Proper, and while admitting 
 that the poem has been obviously enlarged by the addition of 
 Books i.-iv. and line 187 of Book xiii.-xxiv., with which I will 
 deal fully in a later Chapter—I cannot think that the enlarge¬ 
 ment was by another hand than that of the authoress of the 
 poem in its original form. Nevertheless I am glad to claim 
 Professor Jebb’s support as far as it goes, for dating the in¬ 
 ception of the Odyssey as in the eleventh century b.c. 
 
 I will begin by giving my reasons for thinking that the 
 Odyssey must at any rate be earlier than 734 b.c. 
 
 When Eumeeus is telling the story of his childhood to 
 Ulysses (xv. 403 &c.), he says that he was born in the Syrian 
 
 * Introduction to Eomer, Ed. 1888, pp. 172, 173. 
 
THE TUKNINGS OF THE StIN. 
 
 211 
 
 island over against Ortygia, and I have rendered “ the Syrian 
 island ” “ the island of Syra,” guided by the analogy of the 
 Psyrian island” (iii* 171), which unquestionably means the 
 island of Psyra. 
 
 The connection of an island Syra with a land Ortygia, 
 suggests Syracuse, in spite of the fact that in reality Ortygia 
 was an island, and Syracuse both on the island and on the 
 adjacent mainland—for as I have already too often said all 
 Sicilian places in the Odyssey are travestied, however thinly* 
 
 The impression that Syracuse* is being alluded to is 
 deepened by our going on to read that “ the turnings of the 
 sun ” are “ there ’’—which I presume may be extended so as 
 to mean “ thereabouts.” Now what are “ the turnings of the 
 sun ” ? I looked in Liddell and Scott, for whose work no one 
 can feel a more cordial admiration, nor deeper sense of 
 gratitude, and found that the turnings of the sun are ‘‘the 
 solstices, or tropics, i.e.^ the turning points of midsummer and 
 midwinter.” This may do very well as regards time, but not 
 as regards place. In reference to the Odyssean passage, I 
 read that “ the turning of the sun denotes a point in the 
 heavens probably to the Westward.” 
 
 But we want the sun to turn not at a point in the heavens, 
 but in the neighbourhood of Syra and Ortygia, and to do so 
 here in a way that he does not do elsewhere. The simplest 
 way of attaining this end will be to suppose that the writer of 
 the Odyssey was adopting a form of speech which we often 
 use on a railway journey, when we say that the sun has turned 
 and is coming in at the other window^meaning that the line 
 has taken a sharp turn, and that we are going in a new 
 direction. Surely I am not wrong in thinking that the author 
 meant nothing more recondite than that near the two places 
 named the land turns sharply round, so that sailors who 
 follow it will find the sun on the other side of their ship from 
 what it has hitherto been. 
 
 A glance at the map will show that the site which the 
 combination of Syra and Ortygia has suggested is confirmed 
 
 * On its earlier coins Syracuse not unfrequently appears as Syra. 
 
 p2 
 
212 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 • by the fact that shortly South of it the coast of Sicily turns 
 abruptly round, and continues thenceforward in a new direction. 
 Indeed it begins to turn sharply with the promontory of 
 Plemmyrium itself. Eumseus, therefore, should be taken as 
 indicating that he was born at the place which we know as 
 Syracuse, and which was then, so he says, an aggregate of two 
 small towns, without many inhabitants. It seems to have been 
 a quiet easy-going little place, where every one had enough to 
 eat and drink, and nobody died except of sheer old age, diseases 
 of all kinds being unknown. Business must have been carried 
 on in a very leisurely fashion, for it took the Phoenicians a 
 twelvemonth to freight their vessel, and the largest ship of 
 those times cannot hate been very large. 
 
 This is not the description of a busy newly founded settle¬ 
 ment, as Syracuse would be in 734 b.o. Still less will it apply 
 to any later Syracusan age. The writer modernises when 
 dealing with an earlier age as frankly as Shakspeare: I have 
 never detected a trace in her of any archaeological instinct. I 
 believe, therefore, that she was telling what little she knew of 
 the Syracuse of her own day, and that that day was one prior 
 to the arrival of the Corinthian Colony. I think it likely also 
 that she made Eumteus come from Syracuse because she felt 
 that she rather ought to have done something at Syracuse 
 during the voyage of Ulysses, but could not well, under the 
 circumstances, break his journey between Charybdis and 
 Calypso’s Island. She, therefore, took some other way of 
 bringing Syracuse into her story. 
 
 It may be urged that we have no other evidence of any 
 considerable civilisation as having existed at Syracuse before 
 the one founded by the Corinthians, and as regards written 
 evidence this is true, so far at least as I know; but we have 
 unwritten evidence of an even more conclusive kind. The 
 remains of pottery and implements found at, or in the near 
 neighbourhood of, Syracuse go back in an unbroken line from 
 post-Roman times to the age of stone, while commerce with 
 the Peloponese, at any rate from the Mycenaean age, is shown 
 by the forms and materials of the objects discovered in count¬ 
 less tombs. I had the advantage of being shown over the 
 
PRE-CORINTHIAN SYRACUSE. 
 
 213 
 
 Museum at Syracuse by Dr. Orsi, than whom there can be no 
 more cautions and capable guide on all matters connected with 
 the earliest history of Sicily, and he repeatedly insisted on the 
 remoteness of the age at which commerce must have existed 
 between the South East, and indeed all the East, coast of 
 Sicily, and the Peloponese. The notion, therefore, too generally 
 held in the very face of Thucydides himself, that there were no 
 people living at or near Syracuse till the arrival of the 
 Corinthians must be abandoned, and I believe we may feel 
 confident that in the story of Eumeens we have a peep into its 
 condition in pre-Corinthian times. 
 
 The two communities of which Eumgens tells us were 
 probably, one, on the promontory of Plemmyrium, and the 
 other, at a place between three and four miles distant, now called 
 Cozzo Pantano, on each of which sites Dr, Orsi has discovered 
 the burying ground of an extensive village or town [borgo] to 
 which he had assigned the date xii.-xi. centuries b.c. before his 
 attention had been called to the existence of a reference to 
 prehistoric Syracuse in the Odyssey. Many examples of im¬ 
 plements found on these two sites may be seen in the museum 
 at Syracuse. I did not gather that any other prehistoric 
 burying grounds had been found at or in close proximity to 
 Syracuse. 
 
 Whether the people whose burying grounds have been 
 found the above named places were Greeks, who were 
 
 displaced later by Sicels, as the Sicels in their turn were 
 displaced by the Corinthians, or whether they were Sicels of 
 an earlier unrecorded immigration, I must leave Dr. Orsi and 
 others to determine, but the name of the sea which washes the 
 East coast of Sicily points to the existence at one time of 
 extensive Ionian settlements on East Sicilian shores. The 
 name, again, Aci, which is found in Aci reale^ Aci Gastello^ and 
 Aci trezza., and which among the common people is now 
 always sounded laci, suggests a remote Ionian origin—for we 
 may assume that there was no Ionian migration later than 
 734 B.c. of sufficient importance to give the name Ionian to 
 Sicilian waters, towns, and islands. The reader will be re¬ 
 minded in the following Chapter that Ta/co? means Ionian, 
 
214 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 EnmaBus was so young when he was carried oif that even 
 though Greek was not his native language, he would have 
 become Grecised in a few years ; I incline to think, however, 
 that the writer of the Odyssey would have said something 
 about his being a Sicel if she had so conceived of him in her 
 own mind. She seems to think of him as a Greek by birth. 
 
 The Sicels, however, also probably spoke Greek. The 
 inhabitants of Temesa, on the toe of Italy, do not indeed seem 
 to have done so {Od. i. 183); but we do not know that they 
 were Sicels. No writing has been found at Plemmirio nor yet 
 at Cozzo Pantano; we have therefore very little to go upon. 
 
 But postulating that we may accept Thucydides—whose 
 accuracy as regards Syracusan details proves that even though 
 he had not been at Syracuse himself, he had at any rate means 
 of informing himself on Sicilian history—who is evidently 
 taking pains, and whose reputation is surpassed by that of no 
 other historian—-postulating that we may accept his statement 
 (vi. 2) that the great irruption of Sicels which changed the 
 name of the country from Sicania to Sicelia took place about 
 800 years before b.o. 734, 1 think we may safely put back the 
 date of the Odyssey to a time before b.c. 1000. 
 
 For the Odyssey conveys no impression as though Sicily at 
 large had been lately subdued and overrun by Sicels. Locally, 
 indeed, the city at the top of Mt. Eryx had, as we have seen 
 {Od, vii. 6Q), been conquered and overthrown ; but I shall bring 
 Thucydides, as well as other evidence, to show that in this case 
 the victors are more likely to have been Asiatic Greeks than 
 Sicels. The poem indicates a time of profound present peace 
 and freedom from apprehension, and on the one occasion in 
 which the writer speaks of Sicily under its own name, she calls 
 it by its pre-Sicelian name of Sicania."^ The old Sicel woman 
 who waited on Laertes (xxiv. 211 and elsewhere) is not spoken 
 of as though there were any ill-will on the part of the writer 
 towards the Sicels, or as though they were a dominant race. 
 
 * The fact that ’SiKavin? (ixiv. 307) should not have got corrupted into ‘EikeXlti ^— 
 which would scan just as well—during the many centuries that the island was called 
 ZtKtXtrt, suggests a written original, though I need hardly say that I should not rely 
 on so small a matter if it rested by itself. 
 
THE ODYSSEY PEE-SIOELIAN. 
 
 215 
 
 Lastly, one of the suitors (xx. 382) advises Telemachus to ship 
 Theoclymenus and Ulysses off to the Sicels. Now if the writer 
 had the real Ithaca in her mind, the Sicels could only have 
 been reached by sea, whether they were in Italy or Sicily; but 
 I have already shown that she never pictured to herself any 
 other Ithaca than the one she had created at' Trapani; the 
 fact, therefore, that Theoclymenus and Ulysses were to be put 
 on board ship before they could reach the Sicels, shows that 
 she imagined these last as (except for an occasional emigrant) 
 outside the limits of her own island. 
 
 If the foregoing reasoning is admitted, 1050 b.c. will be about 
 as late as it is safe to place the date of the Odyssey; but a few 
 years later is possible, though hardly, I think, probable. Un¬ 
 fortunately this date will compel us to remove the fall of Troy 
 to a time very considerably earlier than the received date. For 
 a hundred years is, one would think, the shortest interval that 
 can be allowed between the Odyssey and the Iliad. The 
 development of myth and of the Epic cycle, of which we find 
 abundant traces in the Odyssey., is too considerable to render 
 any shorter period probable. I therefore conclude that 1150 b.c. 
 is the latest date to which we should assign the Iliad. 
 
 The usually received date for the fall of Troy is 1184 b.c. 
 This is arrived at from a passage in Thucydides (i. 12) which 
 says that sixty years after the fall of Troy, the Boeotians were 
 driven from Arne and settled in what was originally called 
 Cadmeis, but subsequently Boeotia. Twenty years later, he tells 
 us, the Dorians and the Heraclidm became masters of the 
 Peloponese; but as he does not fix this last date, probably 
 because he could not, so neither does he fix that of the fall of 
 Troy. 
 
 The date commonly accepted for the return of the Heraclid^ 
 and their conquest of the Peloponese is 1104,* but those who 
 turn to Muller’s History of the Doric Racef Yol. I., p. 53, 
 will see that there is no authority for this date which is worth 
 a moment’s consideration; and with the failure of authority 
 
 * See Prof. Jebb’s Introduction to Homer, ed. 1888, Note 1 on p. 43. 
 t Murray, 1830. 
 
THE AUTHOEESS OF THE ODTSSET. 
 
 liere, we are left absolutely witbont autbority for 1184 b.c. as 
 the date of tbe fall of Trov. 
 
 Admitting for tbe moment 1150 b.c. as tbe latest date to 
 wbicb we sbonld assign tbe tbe question arises: How 
 
 mncb later than tbe fall of Trov did Homer write ? Mr. 
 Gladstone bas argued very ably in support of tbe view that be 
 wrote onlv some fortv or fiftv vears after tbe events be is 
 recording, in wbicb case it would seem tbat be must date tbe 
 Iliad bardiv at all later than tbe latest date to wbicb I would 
 assign it. for be does not appear to dispute tbe received date 
 for tbe fall of Troy, tbougb be does not say tbat be accepts it. 
 I should be onlv too srlad to find tbat I can claim Mr. Glad- 
 stone’s support so far, but farther I cannot expect to do so; 
 for tbe impression left upon me by tbe Uiad is tbat Homer 
 was writing of a time tbat was to him much wbat tbe middle 
 ages are to ourselves. 
 
 If be bad lived as near tbe Trojan War as Mr. Gladstone 
 supposes, be would surely have given ns some bint of tbe 
 manner in wbicb Trov fell, whereas be shows no sicrns of 
 
 mJ ■> 
 
 knowing more than tbe bare fact tbat tbe citv bad fallen. 
 
 O ft 
 
 He repeatedly tells ns this much, but always more cnrtly and 
 drily than we sbonld expect him to do, and bis absolute silence 
 as to tbe way in wbicb tbe capture of tbe city was efiected, goes 
 far to i^rove either tbat all record of tbe imdas in quo bad 
 perished—wbicb would point to a very considerable lapse of 
 time—or else to suggest a fact wbicb, tbougb I have often 
 thought it possible, I hardly dare to write—I mean tbat Troy 
 never fell at all. or at anv rate tbat it did not fall with tbe close 
 
 ■' ft 
 
 of tbe Trojan War, and tbat Homer knew this jverfectly well. 
 
 Tbe infinite subtletv of tbe Iliad is almost as unfaibom- 
 able as tbe simpbcity of tbe Odyssey bas so far proved itself 
 to be, and its author, writing for a Greek audience whom be 
 obviously despised, and whom be was foobng to tbe top of their 
 bent tbougb alwavs sailing far enough ofi’ tbe wind to avoid dis- 
 aster; would take very good care to tell them tbat—if I may be 
 allowed tbe anachronism—Xapoleon won tbe battle of Water¬ 
 loo, tbougb be very well knew tbat it was won by Wellington. 
 It is certain tbat no even tolerably plausible account of tbe fall 
 
WALL AT HISSARLIK, 
 
 SHOWING CONTRAST BETWEEN WEATHERED AND PROTECTED COHRSES. 
 
 THE ILIADIC WALL. 
 
 {Tu fact p. 217 .) 
 
DATE OF THE ILIA DIG WALL. 217 
 
 of Troy existed among the Greeks themselves ; all plausibility 
 ends with their burning their tents and sailing away baffled 
 iOd. viii. 500, 501)— see also the epitome of the Little Iliad^ 
 given in the fragment of Proclus. The wild story of the 
 wooden horse only emphasises the fact that nothing more 
 reasonable was known. 
 
 But let us suppose that Troy fell, and that Homer’s silence 
 was dictated by the loss of all record as to the manner of its 
 falling. In this case one would think that two, or even three, 
 hundred years must have passed between the fall of Troy and 
 the writing of the Iliad, Let us.make it the same distance of 
 time as that between the Parliamentary Wars and the present 
 day. This would throw back the Trojan War to about 1400 b.o., 
 and if we accept Homer’s statement that the wall of Troy {j,e. 
 that which Dr. Dorpfeld excavated in 1893 —for that this is 
 the Hiadic wall may be taken as certain) was built in the time 
 of Priam’s father Laomedon, we should date the wall roughly 
 as 1450 B.c. 1 may add, that it seems to me to be of some¬ 
 what earlier date than the so-called Treasury of Atreus at 
 Mycene, and hence still earlier than that which bears the 
 name of Clytemnestra. 
 
 I see by the latest work on the subject* that Dr. Dorpfeld 
 dates it as between 1500 and 1000 b.c. I know how perilous 
 it is to date a wall by the analogy of other walls in distant 
 countries, which walls are themselves undateable with anything 
 like precision, but having seen the Hiadic wall as also those of 
 Tiryns and Mycene, as well as most of those that remain in 
 the Latin and Volscian cities, I should sav that the wall of 
 Troy was much later than those of the megalithic ages, but 
 still not by any means free from the traditions of megalithic 
 builders. I should date it roughly at not later than 1300 b.c. 
 and hardly earlier than 1500 B.c.f 
 
 * The MycencBcin Age, by Dr. Chrestos Tsountas and Dr. J. Irving Manatt, 
 Macmillan, 1897, p. 369. 
 
 f The dark line across my illustration is only due to an accident that happened to 
 my negative. I believe (but am not quite sure, for my note about it was not written 
 on the spot) that the bit of wall given in my second illustration has nothing to do with 
 the Hiadic wall, and is of greatly later date. I give it to show how much imagin' 
 a,tion is necessary in judging of any wall that has been much weathered. 
 
218 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 I will, however, date the Iliadic wall as 1400 b.c. The 
 Trojan war will then he supposed to have taken place from 
 1360-1350 B.c. ; the writing of the Iliad will he about 1150; 
 and that of the Odyssey about 1050 b.c. This is a tight fit, 
 and I should be glad to throw the Iliadic wall back to the 
 earlier of the two dates between which Dr. Dorpfeld has placed 
 it, but precision is out of the question; 1400 b.c. will be as 
 near the truth as anything that we are likely to get, and will 
 bring the archaeological evidence as derivable from the wall of 
 Troy, the internal evidence of the Iliad and Odyssey^ the 
 statement of Thucydides that the last and greatest inroad of 
 the Sicels occurred about 1030 b.c., and our conclusion that the 
 Odyssey was written before that date, into line with one another. 
 
 The date 1050 b.c. will explain the absence of all allusion 
 in the Odyssey to Utica, the land near which, on certain rare 
 days, can be seen from Mt, Eryx. The Phoenicians are known in 
 the Odyssey^ disliked and distrusted, but they do not seem to 
 be feared as they would surely be if so powerful a maritime 
 nation were already established so near the writer’s own abode. 
 She does not seem to know much about the Phoenicians after 
 all, for in iv. 83 she makes Menelaus say that he had gone to 
 Cyprus, Phoenicia, and the Egyptians, and in the next line she 
 adds that he had also been to the Ethiopians and the 
 Sidonians, as ^though she was not aware that Sidon was a 
 Phoenician city. 
 
 The absence of all allusion to Olympia when Telemachus 
 was on his return from Pylos is most naturally explained by 
 supposing that Olympia was not yet famous. The principal 
 hero at Athens appears to be the earliest known object of the 
 national cult, I mean Erechtheus (vii. 81) ; the later, though 
 still very early, cult of Theseus is not alluded to. There is no 
 allusion, however vague, to any event known as having 
 happened in Greek history later than 1100 b.c., and though 
 the absence of reference to any particular event may be 
 explained by indifference or forgetfulness, the absence of all 
 reference to any event whatever suggests, 1 should say strongly^ 
 that none of the events to one or other of which reference 
 might be expected had as yet happened. 
 
DATE OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 219 
 
 "While, however, placing 1050 b.c. as the latest limit for the 
 Odyssey I do not see how we can place it earlier than 1150 
 without throwing the date of the lliadic wall farther back 
 than we can venture to do, for we can hardly date it earlier 
 than 1500 b.c., and 350 years is as short an interval as we can 
 well allow between the building of that wall and the writing 
 of the Odyssey. 
 
 Let us now compare the history of the N.W. corner of 
 Sicily as revealed to us in the always assuming that 
 
 the pedigree of Alcinous and Arete in Book vii. is in its main 
 facts historic—with the account given by Thucydides concerning 
 the earliest history of the same district. 
 
 In the Odyssey we have seen the Sicans (whom I think 
 that I have sufficiently identified) as originally in possession of 
 Mt. Eryx under a king whose Odyssean name is Eurymedon. 
 He, it seems, was overthrown, and the power of his people was 
 broken, by enemies whose name is not given, about a hundred 
 years before the writing of the Odyssey^ as nearly as we can 
 gather from the fact of his having been Nausicaa’s great great 
 grandfather. 
 
 The writer of the Odyssey wrote in a language mainly Ionian, 
 but containing a considerable ^olian element. It must be in¬ 
 ferred, therefore, that her family and audience—that is to say 
 the Phasacians—spoke a dialect in which these characteristics 
 are to be found. The place of all others where such a dialect 
 might be looked for is Phocaea, a little South of the Troad; for 
 Phocaea was an Ionian city entirely surrounded on its land 
 sides by ^olian territory. I see from Professor Jebb’s Intro- 
 duction to Homer* that Aristarchus when editing the Iliad 
 and Odyssey., and settling the text to all intents and purposes 
 as we now have it, by comparison of the best copies known, 
 made most frequent use of the civic edition of Marseilles which 
 contained both Iliad and Odyssey. It will be remembered 
 that Marseilles was a Phocasan Colony. 
 
 * Ed. 18S8, note on p. 91. 
 
220 
 
 THE AXJTHOEESS OF THE ODYSSET. 
 
 The name Phseacians is not nnsuggestive of a thin disguise 
 for Phocaeans ; lines iv. 441-443, moreover, will gain greatly in 
 point, if we imagine that the seals, or Phocas, with their dis¬ 
 gusting smell, are meant for the writer’s countrymen whom 
 she evidently dislikes, and that the words, “ who, indeed, would 
 go to bed with a sea monster if he could help it ? ” are her 
 rejoinder to the alleged complaint of the young Phaeacians that 
 she would marry none of them (vi. 276 &c.). Apart, therefore, 
 from any external evidence, I should suspect the Phaeacians to 
 have been Phocaeans, who had settled on this part of the 
 island.* From the fact that the Phaeacians in the time of the 
 Odyssey were evidently dominant on Mt. Eryx as well as at 
 Trapani, I conclude that they must have had, to say the least 
 of it, a considerable share in the overthrow of Eurymedon and 
 of the Sican power in that part of the island. If they had allies 
 with them, these allies seem to have gone on to other sites on 
 which Ely mite cities are known to have existed, for we find no 
 reference in the Odyssey to any other people as sharing 
 Hypereia and Scheria with the Phseacians. 
 
 Though the power of the Sicans at Eryx was broken, and 
 the Phaeacians were established at Hypereia, also on the top of 
 Mt. Eryx and less than a mile from the Sican city, the Sicans 
 were still troublesome neighbours; there seems, however, to 
 have been a marriage between some chief man among the 
 Phaeacians and Periboea, youngest daughter of the old king 
 Eurymedon, and this no doubt would lead to some approach to 
 fusion between the two peoples. The offspring of this marriage, 
 Hausithous, is said in the poem to have been by Heptune, from 
 which I infer that the marriage may have been of a more or 
 less irregular kind, but there can be no doubt that Hausithous 
 came of a Ph^eacian father and would speak the Phacacian 
 dialect, which the Sicans, though in all probability a Greek- 
 
 * H,erodotus tells us (i. 163) that the Phocseans were the first people to under¬ 
 take long voyages, exploring the Tuscan sea, and going as far as Cadiz. He says that 
 their ships were not the round ones commonly used for commerce, but long vessels with 
 fifty oarsmen. The reader will recollect that this feature of Phocoean navigation 
 is foirnd also among the Ph 0 e 9 ,cians, who sent Ulysses to the place that we are to take 
 as Ithaca, in a vessel that had fifty oarsmen. 
 
THE ODYSSEY AND THUCYDIDES. 
 
 221 
 
 speaking race, cannot be supposed to liave done. Nansitboiis 
 seems to have been a capable man ; finding the continued raids 
 of semi-outlawed Sicans still harassing, perhaps, also, induced 
 by the fact that the promontory on which Trapani stands was 
 better suited to a race of mariners than the lofty and 
 inhospitable top of Mt. Eryx, he moved his people down to the 
 seaside and founded the city that now bears the name of 
 Trapani—retaining, however, the site of Hypereia as his own 
 property on which his pigs and goats would feed, and to which 
 also his family would resort, as the people of Trapani still do, 
 during the excessive heat of summer. 
 
 The reader will have noted that Eumseus, who we must 
 never forget is drawn not from Ithaca but from Mt. Eryx, 
 when watching over his pigs by night thought it necessary to 
 be fully armed (xiv. 526). He seems also from xvi. 9, to 
 have had neighbours, from which we may infer that the old 
 Sican city of Eryx was not yet entirely abandoned; neverthe¬ 
 less, Eumseus would not be there at all unless the fusion 
 between the Sicans and the Phocseans had been fairly 
 complete. The Sicans appear in the Odyssey under the names 
 of Cyclopes and Lfestrygonians, and the Sicels are not yet 
 come. This is all that we can collect from the Odyssey. 
 
 We will now see what support the sketch given above will 
 derive from Thucydides (vi. 2). According to him the 
 Ljnstrygonians and the Cyclopes, mentioned as the earliest 
 inhabitants of Sicily, are mere poetical fictions. This, however, 
 does not preclude their having had their prototype in some real 
 Sicilian people who bore another name ; and at any rate, how¬ 
 ever fictitious they may be, he locates them in Sicily. 
 
 He continues that the oldest historic inhabitants of the 
 island were the Sicans, who by their own account had been 
 there from time immemorial. This he denies, for he says they 
 were Iberians, and he says it as though he had satisfied himself 
 'after due inquiry, but since he gives no hint as to the date of 
 their arrival, he does not impugn their statement that their 
 settlement in the island dated from a remote time. It is most 
 likely that he is right about the Sicans having come from 
 Spain; and indeed at Tarragona, some fifty or sixty miles 
 
222 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 North of the mouth of the river Iberus, there are megalithic 
 walls that bear, so far as I can judge from photographs, a very 
 considerable analogy with those of Eryx. In Thucydides’ own 
 times there were still Sicans in the Western part of Sicily. 
 
 He then goes on to say that after the fall of Troy, but he 
 does not say how much after, some of the Trojans who had 
 escaped the Greeks migrated to Sicily. They settled in the 
 neighbom’hood of the Sicans and were all together called Elymi, 
 their cities being Eryx and Segesta. There were also settled 
 with them—but whether at the same date, or earlier or later, 
 and if so, how much, Thucydides does not say—certain Phocians 
 of the Trojan branch, i.e.^ Phocseans—-Phocaea having been 
 founded by Phocians from the gulf of Corinth under the leader¬ 
 ship of the Athenian chiefs Philogenes and Damon [Strah. 
 xiv. § 633 ; Pausan, vii. 3, § 5 ; cf. Herod, i. 146). These 
 Phoceeans had been carried first by a tempest to Libya,* and 
 thence to Sicily. 
 
 We need not follow him to the arrival of the Sicels, for I 
 have already, I hope, satisfied the reader that the Odyssey 
 belongs to a pre-Sicelian age, and I am only dealing with the 
 period which the Odyssey and Thucydides cover in common. 
 
 I should perhaps put it beyond doubt that Thucydides means 
 Phocseans and not Phocians. In the first place it is difficult 
 to understand how Phocians, who were on the Achfean side 
 [11. II. 518), should amalgamate with Trojans ; and in the next 
 Thucydides’ words cannot be made to bear the meaning that is 
 generally put upon them, as though the Phocians in question 
 were on their way back from Troy to Phocis. His words are 
 <t>6t)«ea)v Ttre? twj/ airo Tpo/a?, and this cannot be construed 
 as though he had said <Pq)k6(ov riye^ twv avep')(oiJbev(ov ey yoaro) 
 aiTo Tpoi'a?. If airo is to imply motion from, it should have a 
 verb or participle involving motion before it; without this it 
 is a common way of expressing residence in a place. ^ For 
 example,’Opear?^? ^Xv6ey...a7r'^ \6r)vd(ov (iii. 307) means Orestes 
 
 * One cannot help wondering whether the episode of the Lotus-eaters may not be 
 due to the existence of traditions among the Phseacians that their ancestors had made 
 some stay in Libya before reaching Sicily. 
 
PHOCIANS AND PHOO.EANS. 
 
 came from Athens, whereas 'Opicrrij^} 6 air' ^kOr^vawv would mean 
 “ Orestes the Athenian, or quasi-Athenian,” as kamhaipbovioi 
 ol aiTo 27rd/0T729 means “the Lacedsemonians who live at Sparta.” 
 Neither of these last two passages can be made to bear the 
 meaning “ Orestes, who was on his Way from Athens,” or “ the 
 Lacedaemonians, who were on their way from Sparta.” The 
 reader who looks out airh in Liddell & Scott will find plenty of 
 examples. To Thucydides, Phocaeans in Asia Minor and 
 Phocians on the gulf of Corinth would be alike Phocians in 
 virtue of common descent, but to avoid misapprehension he calls 
 the Phocaeans “Phocians of the Trojan stock,” by “Trojan” 
 meaning not very far from Troy. It should be noted that the 
 Phocians of the gulf of Corinth are called not fbca/cee? 
 
 in II. IX. 517, XV. 516, xvii. 307. I see that Dobree {Adver¬ 
 saria in Thucyd) is suspicious of the reading ^ooKecov in the 
 passage of Thucydides which we are now considering. He 
 evidently considers that <t>a)K6cov must mean Phocians from the 
 gulf of Corinth, and so it would, if it were not qualified by 
 the words rwv diro T^ob/a? which negative the possibility of 
 European Phocians being intended. 
 
 Thucydides says nothing about any invasion of Sicily by a 
 people called Elymi. He does not see the Elymi as anything 
 more than the combined Asiatic and Sican peoples, who came 
 to be called Elymi. If he had believed in the Elj^mi as a 
 distinct batch of immigrants he would have given us a line or 
 two more about them. 
 
 It is just possible that the known connection between 
 Phocians and Phocseans may explain why Ulysses’ maternal 
 grandfather should have been made to live on Mt. Parnassus,* 
 which is in Phocis. Ulysses, to the writer of the Odyssey^ 
 was a naturalised Phaeacian, for her native town had become 
 in her eyes both Scheria and Ithaca. It would not be un¬ 
 natural, therefore, that she should wish to connect his ancestry 
 with Phocis, the ancestral seat of the Phocfeans. 
 
 Peturning to Thucydides, the only point in which he varies 
 the Odyssean version is that he makes other Trojans migrate 
 
 • Od. xix. 410, 432. 
 
224 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 to Eryx as well as the Plioceeans, whereas the writer of the 
 Odyssey mentions only the Pheeacians without saying anything 
 about their having been of Phocasan descent. She has, how¬ 
 ever, betrayed herself very sufficiently. Thucydides again does 
 not tell us that the Phocaeans re-settled themselves at Drepa- 
 num, but a man who is giving a mere outline of events which 
 happened some seven hundred years before he was writing, 
 can hardly be expected to give so small a detail as this. The 
 wonder is that the Odyssey should bear him out and confirm 
 his accuracy in so striking a way as it does. We now, there¬ 
 fore, see that instead of there being any cause for surprise at 
 finding an lonic-^olian poem written near Mt* Eryx, this is 
 the very neighbourhood in which we might expect to find one. 
 
 Finally, let us turn to Yirgil. His authority as a historian is 
 worthless, but we cannot suppose that he would make H]neas 
 apparently found Drepanum, if he held the presence of a 
 Greek-speaking people at Drepanum even before the age of 
 Homer to be so absurd as it appears to our eminent Homeric 
 scholars. I say “ apparently found Drepanum,” for it is not 
 quite easy to fix the site of the city founded by Hlneas v. 
 
 755-761), for at the close of ^n. iii. Anchises dies at Dre¬ 
 panum, as though this city was already in existence. But 
 whether the city founded by Aeneas was actually Drepanum, 
 or another city hard by it, it is clear that Yirgil places Greek¬ 
 speaking people at Drepanum, or close to it, immediately after 
 the fall of Troy. He would hardly do this unless Drepanum 
 was believed in his time to be a city of very great antiquity, 
 and founded by Greek-speaking people. That the Trojan 
 language was Greek will not be disputed. 
 
( 225 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XIIL 
 
 rUETHER EVIDENCE IN SUPPORT OF AN EARLY IONIAN SETTLE¬ 
 MENT AT OR CLOSE TO TRAPANI. 
 
 I AM often asked how I explain the fact that we find no 
 trace in ancient authors of any tradition to the effect that the 
 Odyssey was written at Drepannm or that the writer was a 
 woman. This difficulty is laid before me as one that is almost 
 fatal. I confess, however, that I find it small in comparison 
 with that of explaining how both these facts should have failed 
 of being long since rediscovered. Neptune indeed did not 
 overwhelm Scheria under Mt. Eryx, but he, or some not less 
 spiteful god, seems to have buried both it and its great poetess 
 under another mountain which I fear may be found even more 
 irremoveable—I mean a huge quasi-geological formation of 
 academic erudition.^ 
 
 The objection is without sufficient foundation in its implied 
 facts ; for that the PhaBacians were a real people who lived at 
 a place bearing the name of Drepane (which is near enough to 
 Drepanum for all practical purposes),* has never been lost 
 sight of at all—except by those who find it convenient to lose 
 sight of it. Thucydides (i. 25) tells us that the inhabitants of 
 Corfu were the descendants of the Phmaciaus, and the rock 
 into which their ship was turned as it was entering the harbour 
 after having escorted Ulysses to Ithaca is still shown at Corfu 
 ■—as an island 58 feet high with a monastery on the top of it. 
 But the older name of Corfu was Drepane, f and when the 
 Carthaginians had established themselves at the Sicilian 
 Drepanum, it would be an easy matter for the inhabitants of 
 the Corfu Drepane to claim PhaBacian descent, and—as they 
 
 * Drepanum means a curved sword or scymitar. Drepane is a sickle, 
 t See Smith’s Dictionary of Classical Geography, under Corcyra, where full refer' 
 ences will be found. 
 
 Q 
 
226 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 jR’oceeded to do—to call tlieir island Sclieria, in spite of its 
 'offering no single point of correspondence with the description 
 given in the Odyssey. 
 
 I grant that no explicit tradition exists to the effect that 
 the Odyssey as a whole was written at or in Corfu, hnt the 
 Phasacian episode is the eye of the poem. I submit, then, that 
 tradition both long has, and still does, by implication connect 
 it with a place of which the earliest known name was to all 
 intents and purposes the same as that of the town where I 
 contend that it was written. 
 
 The Athenian writers, Thucydides included, would be biassed 
 in favour of any site which brought Homer, as they ignorantly 
 called the writer of the Odyssey., nearer their own doors. The 
 people, moreover, of Eryx and Segesta, and hence also of 
 Drepanum, were held to be barbarians, and are so called by 
 Thucydides himself (vi. 2) ; in his eyes it would be little less 
 than sacrilege to hesitate between the Corfu Drepane and the 
 Sicilian Dre23annm, did any tradition, however vague, supj)ort 
 Corfu. But it is not likely that Thucydides was unaware of 
 the Sicilian claim not only to the Phgeacian episode, but to 
 the entire poem, for as late as 430 b.c., only a little before the 
 date of his own work, there were still people on or near Mt. 
 Eryx who present every appearance of having claimed it, as I 
 will almost immediately show. 
 
 As for losing sight of its having been written by a woman, 
 the people who could lose sight of the impossibility of its 
 having been written by Homer could lose sight of anything. 
 A people who could not only do this, but who could effectually 
 snuff out those who pointed out their error, were not likely to 
 know more about the difference underlying the two poems than 
 the average English layman does about those between the 
 synoptic gospels and that of St. John. 
 
 I will now return to my assertion that in the time of 
 Thucydides there seem to have been not a few who knew of, 
 and shared in, the claim of Drepanum to the authorship of 
 the Odyssey. 
 
 The British Museum possesses a unique example of a small 
 bronze coin which is classed with full confidence among those 
 
THE COIN lAKIN. 
 
 227 
 
 of Eryx and Segesta. It is of tlie very finest period of tlie 
 numismatic art, and is dated by the museum authorities as 
 about 430 B.c. 
 
 Enlarged to about double tbe actual diameter. 
 
 The reader will see that the obverse bears the legend 
 I AKIN, and the reverse a representation of the brooch described 
 by Ulysses [Od. xix. 225-231). A translation of this passage 
 is given on page 80. 
 
 The cross line of the A is not visible in the original, but no 
 doubt is felt at the Museum about its having existed. 
 
 There seems, however, to be more, doubt whether the legend 
 should be lAKIN, or FIAKIN — P being the older form of P. 
 Possibly from a desire to be right in either case, the Museum 
 catalogue gives it as lAKlN in the illustration, and PIAKIN in 
 the descriptive letterpress. The one reading will do nearly as 
 well as the other for my argument, which only requires that 
 the coin should belong to the Eryx and Segesta group and 
 be dated about 430 b.c. —neither of which points are doubted. 
 I will, however, give the reasons that convince me that lAKIN 
 is the true reading. 
 
 Firstly, neither I nor some artist friends of mine whose 
 opinion is infinitely better worth having than my own, can find 
 any traces of a P between the lowermost boss and the neck. I 
 am aware that some experts of the highest competence profess 
 to be able to detect such traces, but the artist who figured the 
 coin in the Museum Catalogue evidently could not do so, and 
 the experts do not seem to have had such confidence in their 
 own opinion as to make him alter his drawing. 
 
 Secondly, the composition is obviously and intentionally 
 
228 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 symmetrica''. It would be abhorrent to the instincts of the 
 man who could design so exquisite a coin to destroy its balance 
 by crowding a P into the place which must be assigned to it if 
 it exists at all? "• " “ - 
 
 Thirdly, Piacus, to which town the coin had been ascribed 
 by the dealer from whom the Museum bought it, is mentioned 
 very briefly by Stephanus Byzantinus, but by no other writer, 
 as a Sicilian city, and he expressly states that its citizens were 
 called niAKHNOI; so that the coin, if it was one of theirs, 
 should bear the legend PIAKHN instead of the alleged PIARIN. 
 Stephanus Byzantinus did not write till about 500 a.d., and 
 in the absence of any statement from him to the effect that 
 Piacus was an old city, it argues some recklessness to conclude 
 that it had existed for at least a thousand years when he 
 mentioned it; there is no evidence from any quarter to support 
 such a conclusion, and a safer one will be that the dealer above 
 referred to, not knowing where the coin came from, and looking 
 for a city in Stephanus Byzantinus, found he could get nothing 
 nearer than Piacus—whereon he saw a P as the smallest thing 
 he could do in P’s, into his coin, and sold it to the British 
 Museum probably for a song as compared with the value which 
 it now proves to have. Thus the Museum authorities having 
 got it into part of their notes (for they seem to have got IA KIN 
 into another part) that the legend was PI A KIN, have very 
 naturally been led to see more on the coin than those who have 
 no notes will quite bear them out in seeing. But I will add no 
 more. The legend is obviously IA KIN. 
 
 This is .an abbreviation for IAKINI2N, as EPTKIN and 
 KENTOPiniN are for EPTKINI2N and KENTOPIPINflN, not 
 to quote further examples. It means that the people who struck 
 it were called lAKINES, and though we cannot determine the 
 precise name of their city we may infer with confidence that it 
 was some derivative of 1AK02, which is given in Liddell and 
 Scott as meaning Ionian. The name may very likely have 
 been I AH though I cannot find any authority for the existence 
 of such a town. 
 
 I hold, therefore, that as late as b.c. 430 there was near 
 Trapani a town still more or less autonomous, which claimed 
 
THE BROOCH OF ULYSSES. 
 
 229 
 
 Ionian descent and which also claimed to he in some special 
 way connected with the Odyssey; for I am assured that nothing 
 would be allowed on a coin except what had an important 
 bearing on the anterior history of those who struck it. Ad¬ 
 mitting that the reverse of the coin in question must be taken 
 as a reproduction of Ulysses’ brooch—and I found no difference 
 of opinion among the numismatists at the Museum on this 
 head—it is hard to see what more apposite means of saying 
 “ Odyssey ” upon a coin can be suggested than to stamp it 
 with the subject which invites numismatic treatment more 
 than any other in the whole poem. It seems to me, then, that 
 though the theory that there was an Ionian city in the neigh¬ 
 bourhood of Eryx which could claim connection with the 
 Odyssey will stand perfectly well without the coin, the coin 
 cannot stand without involving the existence of an Ionian city 
 near Eryx which claimed connection with the Odyssey. 
 Happily, though the coin is unique, there is no question as to 
 its genuineness. 
 
 To those, therefore, who ask me for monuments, ruins of 
 buildings, historical documents to support a Sicano-Ionian 
 civilisation near Eryx in times heretofore prehistoric, I reply 
 that as late as 430 b.o. all these things appear to have existed. 
 Letting alone the testimony of Thucydides, surely an Ionian 
 coin is no small historical document in support of an Ionian 
 city. A coin will say more in fewer words and more authori¬ 
 tatively than anything else will. The coin in question cannot 
 belong to an Ionian colony on Mt. Eryx or thereabouts recently 
 established in 430 b.c. We should have heard of such a colony ; 
 how inconceivable again is the bringing in of the Odyssey on 
 this supposition. If the city existed at all it can only have 
 done so as a survival of the Phoceean settlement of which 
 Thucydides tells us. 
 
 I want no evidence for the survival of such a settlement in 
 later times ; it is not incumbent upon me to show whether it 
 survived or no; the abundant, I might almost say super¬ 
 abundant, coincidences between all both Scherian and Ithacan 
 scenes in the Odyssey.^ and Trapani with its immediate neigh¬ 
 bourhood, is enough to demonstrate the Trapanese origin ot 
 
230 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 the poem. Its pre-Syracusan and 23re-Sicelian indications fix 
 it as not later than about 1050 b.c., its dialect, Ionic--®olian, 
 connects it with the Phocaaans above referred to. It does not 
 concern me to show what became of these Phocmans after the 
 Odyssey had been written; what I have said about the coin 
 lAKIN is said more in the interests of the coin than of the 
 Odyssey^ which is a more potent and irrefragable proof of its own 
 provenance aud date than any coin struck some 600 years later 
 can conceivably be. Still, the coin being there, I use it to 
 answer those who demand some evidence external to the 
 Odyssey itself. When they ask me where are my monuments, 
 I answer that they are within the coin, circumscribed by the 
 small cincture of an inch and a half at most. For a coin is a 
 city in little; he who looks on one beholds a people, an 
 evidence of title, a whole civilisation with its buildings of every 
 kind. Destroy these, but so long as a single one of its coins 
 remains, the city though dead is yet alive, and the fact of its 
 having had buildings that could become ruinous is as palpable 
 as though the ruins themselves had come down to us. 
 
 The exact situation of this city lax, lacus, or lace, cannot 
 be determined, but I incline to place it about a mile or a mile 
 and a half East of Trapani at or near a place called Argenteria. 
 This place is said to have yielded silver, but no one believes 
 that it ever did so. It is a quarry and by no means a large 
 one, just at the beginning of the rise to Mt. Eryx. Some say 
 that Argenteria is a corruption of Cetaria and refers to a 
 monster fish that was killed here, though how it got so far 
 from the sea is not apparent; I think it much more likely, 
 however, that it is a corruption of lacinteria and that lax, 
 or lace, was a quasi-autonomous suburb of Drepanum to which 
 the Greek inhabitants were permitted to retire when the 
 Carthaginians took possession of the parts of the town border¬ 
 ing on the harbour. 
 
 My friend Signor Sugameli of Trapani, whose zeal in this 
 matter' so far outstrips even my own, that I would gladly 
 moderate it if I knew how to do so, assures me that in his 
 younger days he used to employ a stone in building that the 
 mason told him came from a quarry at the foot of Mt. Eryx 
 
THE AKGENTEEIA NEAR TRAPANI. 
 
 231 
 
 called Dacinoi or D’Acinoi. This was years before any one 
 thought of bringing lonians to Trapani. Signor Sngameli 
 suggested that possibly the name might be a corruption of 
 D’Alcinoo— bnt we may be sure that whatever else Alcinons’s 
 name may have been it was not Alcinons. I asked Signor 
 Sngameli to produce the mason, but he conld neither find him 
 nor hear of the quarry Dacinoi. Nevertheless I feel sure that 
 he was told what he said he was, and as the quarry cannot 
 have been far from the Argenteria, I think it probable that its 
 name was a corruption of degli lacinoi. 
 
 Whether this is sound or not, I do not doubt that the 
 lacenses who figure so largely in Sicilian history during the 
 Eleventh Century of our own era are to be connected with the 
 Ionian settlement that produced the Odyssey. The lacenses 
 were then settled chiefly about forty miles East of Trapani, 
 but the interval of some 1400 years and more between the date 
 of the coin lakin and the conquest of Sicily by the Normans 
 will leave plenty of time for them to have spread or migrated. 
 
( 232 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THAT THE ILIAD WHICH THE WRITER OF THE ODYSSEY KNEW 
 WAS THE SAME AS WHAT WE NOW HAVE. 
 
 It remains for me to sliow that the writer of the Odyssey 
 had the Iliad before her to all intents and purposes as we now 
 have it, and to deal with the manner in wliich the poem grew 
 under her hands. 
 
 In my own copies of the Iliad and Odyssey I have under¬ 
 lined all the passages that are common to both poems, giving 
 the references. It is greatly to be wished that one or other of 
 our University presses would furnish us with an Odyssey in 
 which all the Iliadic passages are printed in a slightly different 
 type and with a reference, somewhat in the style of the extracts 
 from II. I. and xxiv. here given. The passages are to be 
 found at the end of Dunbar’s Concordance to the Odyssey^ but 
 the marking of them as they occur in the course of the poem 
 will be more instructive. In my translations of the poems 
 (now finished) I have translated identical passages as nearly as 
 possible in identical words. In the Odyssey I propose to print 
 them in another type and give the references to the Iliad. In 
 the translation of the Iliad there is no use in doing this, for no 
 one supposes that Homer took anything from the Odyssey. 
 The publication, however, of these translations must, I fear, 
 be postponed, but I will give in this Chapter as many 
 instances as I think will be sufficient to satisfy the reader that 
 the Iliad of the writer of the Odyssey was our own Iliad. 
 
 I will begin by giving two passages from the Iliad^ one 
 from Book i., and the other from Book xxiv., the references 
 in all cases being to the Odyssey. These are perhaps fuller of 
 lines adopted by the writer of the Odyssey than any others in 
 the Iliad., though there are some that run them closely. Lines 
 or parts of lines in the smaller type do not occur in the Odyssey. 
 
OUR ILIAD KNOWN TO WRITER OF ODYSSEY. 
 
 233 
 
 The first passage that I will call attention to is Iliad i. 
 455-485, which is as follows:— 
 
 ef. iii. 418 
 
 cf. xii. 359— 
 361 
 
 in Kttl vvv fioi rd3’ iiriKp'ijrjvov eeXScop* 
 i]Sr] vvv Aavao7aiv deiKea Xoiyov dpvvovi 
 cf. iii. 385 €(f)ar^ €V')(^6/ji€VO<i TOV S’ 6fcXv6 ^o7j3og 'AttoXXojv. 
 
 iii. 447 avTap iirei p ev^avTo /cal ovXo^^^vrag irpojSdXovTO, 
 avipvaav pev TrpaTra /cal ecrcpa^av Kal eSeipav, 
 pi7)pov<^ t’ i^erapLOV Kara re Kvlay iKaXvyJrav 
 SiTrrvxa 7roL7]aavTe(i, eV’ avrcov S’ dopLoderTjaav. 
 
 I Kale S’ irrl o fyepwv, iirl S’ atOoira olvov 
 
 Xel^e' veoi Se Trap’ avrov e')(ov 'irep.TTovjSoXa ')(€palv* 
 avrdp iirel Kara prjpa kcltj Kal a7rXdy')(^va irdcravroAf- ^ 
 
 f 9-^ >o '\ ^ I 3iii. 305 
 
 {^fiiGTvWov T apa raWa fcat afxcp opeXoiaiv eireipai^^J 
 MTTTrjadv T6 Trept^paSeo)?, ipvaavro re rnrdvra, 
 avrdp 67ret rravoavro ttovov rervKOvro re Sacra, 
 xix. 425 Salvvvr’, ovSe ri 6upo<i iSevero Sairo<i 
 
 cf. iii. 
 456-462 
 
 xiv. 430, 
 431 cf also 
 xix. 423 
 
 i. 150 & 
 
 elsewhere avrdp iirel TToacog Kal iSr]rvo<; epov evro, 
 i. 148 ^Kovpoc pev Kp7}rrjpa<i eTrearexjravro rroroco, 
 iii. 339j 340 {^vooprjaav S’ dpa irdacv eirap^dpevoc Seirdeaacv 
 
 cf. xvi. 478— 
 [_ 480 
 
 I 
 
 J 
 
 1 xxi. 271, 272 
 J vii. 183 
 
 cj. xix. 
 426-428 
 
 01 de 7ravr]pepioi poX-rp deov iXdaicovTO, 
 
 icaXov deiSovreg Trairjova, Kovpoi 'A^aiCjv, 
 
 peXirovreg eicdepyov' 6 de (ppeva ripTrer dKovojv. 
 
 S’ r^eXio? KareSv Kal irrl KV6(f)a<; ^XOev, 
 
 <Sr} rare Kocprjaavro 'irapd rrpvpvrjcna vrjo^. ^ 
 
 l-Sp-o? S’ '/)piyeveca (f)dv7] poSoSdKrvXog ’Hew?, .120 times in 
 
 X , , ,/ , , . V ' » ' ~ ^only twice in//. 
 
 KCti TOT ETTEiT avuyovTO ptTV OTpuTOV Evpvv Ayaicov’ 
 
 'j cf. iii. 329 
 J cf. xii. 31, 32 
 
 ii. 420 Tolacv S’ CKpevov ovpov cec eKdepyo^; ^AttoXXmv. 
 
 2 ^"^* 292 ^ ^ 9 ^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 Oi IcTTOy (TTiJdClPT^ CLVCL U IGTLCL AOU/CtX TT€T(X(J(TUV* 
 
 f ev S’ dv6po<; irprjaev peaov lariov, dp(pl Se Kvpa 
 
 iy. 783 
 
 ii. 427-429 
 
 ■( areipp 7 rop(f)vpeov peydX’ Iccye vr}b<i lovapg' 
 
 S’ edeev Kard KVpa SiaTrppacrovaa KeXevdov. 
 avTap etteL p 1.kovto kuto. aTpuTov Evpvv "A^aiuiv, 
 xvi. 325 vpa pev oc ye peXacvav eir rjirecpoio epvaaav 
 
 I should perhaps tell the reader that the first Book of the 
 Iliad is one of the few which modern criticism allows to remain 
 in the possession of the poet who wrote what Professor Jebb 
 calls the “primary” Iliad. 
 
y 
 
 234 
 
 THE AUTHOKESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 The second of the two passages above referred to is Iliad 
 XXIV. 621-651, which runs:— 
 
 KOI dvai^aQ oiv dpyvcpoi' tJicve ’A^lWsvq 
 a(pd^'’ erapoi ’i^epop re teal dix^eirov ev /caret /cocr/zov, 
 r^iCTTuXXov T* ap’ iTTcaTapiivco^; irelpdv t’ o/SeXotaiv, 
 422,423 X^TTrijadv Tfi TTeptt^paSeo)? ipvaavTo re irdvra. 
 
 AvTopidu)v S* dpa a~LTOV e\wv eVeVeipe rpaTzi'Cv} 
 
 KaXo~t£ EV KavEoiaiv' drdp Kpia VElpEV ^AyjXkEVQ, 
 
 ^inany othef eTolpa TTpoKelpueva ')(elpa<i XaWov. 
 
 places i^auTap iireX Trocrio? koX i8r)TVo<; epov evTO, 
 
 7} roL Aapdavdrjg Ilptapoe davpa^’ ’A^tX^a, 
 daaoQ ETju otog rf* OsoiaL yap dvra emkeiV 
 avrdp 6 AapdayiSr/y nptapoj^ davpai^EV ^A^iWEvg, 
 
 Eiffopoijjy oxluv T dyadrjv /cat pvQov aKovojv. 
 
 avrdp irrel rdprrrjaav e? dWyXov^; opowvre^, 
 
 Toy TTporepog TrpoffEELTre ylpojy Ilptapoe dEOEiZiig, 
 
 ,,XE^oy vvy pE ro)(t<Tra, ^lorpscpig, d(f)pa Kao ijSrj 
 VTTVW VTTO yXvKCpip TapiTCOpeda KOLpr)6ivT€’ 
 ov yap TTOj pvaay occte bird j3XE(j)dpoL(ny EpdlaLyy 
 eE ov ayg vtto ^(^epaly spog icdig wXeoe dvpot^ 
 dXX’ aui arEvd^u) /cat /ct/^ea pvpia Triaaiv, 
 avXrjg ky yoproan KvXiybopEVog yard KOTTpoy, 
 vvy /cat airov Traadprjy /cat a'idoTra olyov 
 XavKayirjg KadirjKa' Tvdpog ye pev ov ri 7re7rd(Tpr]y/^ 
 ri p\ ^A^tXevc b* Erdpoiaiy ibk Bpoorjai KeAevaev 
 BepvL^ vrd aldovap Oepevai Kal p^yea Ka\d 
 TTop^izpe’ ip^aXieiVf aropeaai t’ icpvirepde raTTz^ra?, 
 
 ^ ^'^340"' ivdepevai ovXa^ KadvirepOev eaaadat. 
 
 al 8’ laav ek peydpoio Sdo<f perd ^(epalv 6)(^ovaaL, 
 al\fra S’ dpa aropeaav Sold) Xe^e* ey/coveovcrai. 
 
 cf. xxii. 194 iTTi/cepropecov rTpoae<f)rj TroSa? d)KV<i A^iXX€u<i* 
 
 ffSKTog pev bri Xt^o, ykpov ^tXe, pd rig ’A)^ata/v 
 E’yddb* ETriXdyaLV (^ovXr](p6pog, oi te pioi ahl 
 
 cf. iy. 47 & 
 
 X. 181 
 
 ^.iv.294, 295 & 
 xxiii. 264, 255 
 
 iv. 296-300 
 
 Professor Jebb is disposed to attribute 11. xxiv. to the 
 writer of II. ix., which he does not ascribe to Homer, and 
 would date circ. b.c. 750-600. I regret that I can go no further 
 5vith him than that II. xxiv. and II. ix. are by the same hand. 
 
OUR ILIAD KNOWN TO WRITER OF ODYSSEY. 
 
 235 
 
 It is beyond my scope to point out tlie sliglit and perfectly 
 unimportant variations from the Iliad wliicli are found in some 
 of tbe Odyssean lines to wliicli T have given a reference; they 
 are with hardly an exception such as are occasioned by difference 
 of context. Though unimportant they are not uninteresting, 
 but I must leave them for the reader to examine if he feels 
 inclined to do so. 
 
 He will observe that some lines are nearly and some quite 
 common to the two extracts above given, and I should add 
 that not a few other lines are repeated elsewhere in the Iliad^ 
 but enough remains that is peculiar to either of the two 
 extracts to convince me that the writer of the Odyssey knew 
 them both. And not only this, but they seem to have risen in 
 her mind as spontaneously, and often no doubt as unconsciously, 
 as passages from the Bible, Prayer-book, and Shakspeare do to 
 ourselves. 
 
 If, then, we find the writer so familiar with two such con¬ 
 siderable extracts from the first and last Books of the Iliad 
 —for I believe the reader will feel no more doubt than I 
 do, that she knew them, and was borrowing from them— 
 can we avoid thinking it probable that she was acquainted, to 
 say the least of it, with the intermediate Books ? Such surely 
 should be the most natural and least strained conclusion to 
 arrive at, but I will proceed to shew that she knew the inter¬ 
 mediate Books exceedingly well. 
 
 I pass over the way in which Mentor’s name is coined from 
 Nestor’s {cf. II. ii. 76-77 and Od. ii. 224, 225, and 228), and will 
 go on to the striking case of Ulysses’ servant Eurybates. In 
 0^/. xix. 218, 219 Penelope has asked Ulysses (who is disguised 
 so that she does not recognise him) for details as to the 
 followers Ulysses had with him on his way to Troy, and 
 Ulysses answers that he had a servant named Eurybates who 
 was hunched in the shoulders (xix. 247). Turning to II. ii. 184 
 we find that Ulysses had a servant from Ithaca named Eury¬ 
 bates, but he does not seem to have been hunched in the 
 shoulders ; on reading further, however, we immediately come 
 to Thersites, “ whose shoulders were hunched over his chest ” 
 [II. II. 217, 218). Am I too hasty in concluding that the 
 
236 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OE THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 writer of the Odyssey^ wanting an additional detail for Pene¬ 
 lope’s greater assurance, and not finding one in the Iliad, took 
 the hunchiness off the hack of the next man to him and set it 
 on to the back of Euryhates ? I do not say that no other 
 hypothesis can he framed in order to support a different con¬ 
 clusion, but I think the one given above will best commend 
 itself to common sense ; and the most natural inference from 
 it is that the writer of the Odyssey knew at any rate part of 
 II. II. much as we have it now. 
 
 I often wondered why Menelaus should have been made to 
 return on the self-same day as that on which Orestes was 
 holding the funeral feast of ^gisthus and Clytemnestra ; the 
 Greek which tells us that he did so runs :— 
 
 auTTjyLap Se ol ^\de djaOo^ MeveX-ao? [Od. iii. 311). 
 
 I did not find the explanation till I remembered that in 
 Iliad II. 408, when Agamemnon has been inviting the Achfean 
 chieftains to a banquet, he did not ask Menelaus, for Menelaus 
 came of his own accord :— 
 
 avTOfiaro^ he ol yXde [5oyv dyaOb^ MereXao?, 
 
 on remembering this I observed that it would be less trouble 
 to make Menelaus come home on the very day of A^gisthus’ 
 funeral feast than to alter auTo/Aaro? in aoy other way which 
 would leave the rest of the line available. I should be ashamed 
 of the writer of the Odyssey for having done this, unless I 
 believed it to be merely due to unconscious cerebration. That 
 the Odyssean and Iliadic lines are taken the one from the 
 other will approve itself to the instincts of any one who is 
 accustomed to deal with literary questions at all, and it is not 
 conceivable that Menelaus should, in the Iliad, have been 
 made to come uninvited because in the Odyssey he happened 
 to come back on the very day when Orestes was holding 
 fiEgisthus’ funeral feast; the Iliadic context explains why 
 Menelaus came uninvited—it was because he knew that 
 Agamemnon was too busy to invite him. I infer, therefore, 
 that the writer of the Odyssey again shows herself familiar 
 with a part of II. ii. 
 
THE ILIADIC CATALOGUES BORROWED FROM. 
 
 237 
 
 I can see no sufficient reason for even questioning tliat 
 the catalogues of the Achasan and Trojan forces in the second 
 Book of the Iliad were part of the Iliad as it left Homer’s 
 hands. They are wanted so as to explain who the people are of 
 whom we are to hear in the body of the poem ; their position, 
 is perfectly natural; the AchoBan catalogue is prepared in Nes¬ 
 tor’s speech (ii. 360-368); Homer almost tells us that he has had 
 assistance in compiling it, for he invokes the Muse, as he does 
 more than once in later Books, and declares that he knows 
 nothing of his own knowledge, but depends entirely upon what 
 has been told him* ; the lines quoted or alluded to in the 
 Odyssey are far too marked to allow of our doubting that the 
 writer knew both catalogues familiarly; 1 cannot within my 
 limits give them, but would call the reader’s attention to 
 II. II. 488, cf. Od. iv. 240 ; to the considering Sparta and 
 Lacedsemon as two places (Zk ii. 580, 581) which the writer of 
 the Odyssey does (iv. 10), though she has abundantly shown 
 that she knew them to be but one; to II. ii. 600, cf. Od. iii. 
 386 ; to the end of line 614, daXdaaia epya /jL6jj,7]\€lv, cf. Od. 
 V. 67, OaXdaaLa epya ; to 670, cf. Od. ii. 12 ; to 673, 
 
 674, cf. Od. xi. 469, 470 ; to II. II. 706, avroKaaiyvrjTO^ yeyaOv- 
 jjLov UpooreaLXdov, which must surely be parent of the line 
 avTOKaaLyvrjJov 6Xo6(f)povo<; AiifaQ, Od. X. 137 ; to II. II. 
 707, OTrAore^o? yevey' 6 8’ dpia Tr/^ore/oo? Ka\ dpelcov, cf. Od. 
 xix. 184, where the same line occurs ; to II. ii. 721, d'AA’ 6 pcev 
 iv vyaw icecTo Kparep* dXyea irda^cov, cf. Od. V. 13, where 
 the same line occurs, but with Keljai instead of Kelro to suit 
 the context; cf. also Od. v. 395, where we find Trarpo^^y o? iv 
 vovcTM KTjTaiy Kparip^ aXyea irdayyaVy a line which shows how 
 completely the writer of the Odyssey was saturated with the 
 Iliad; to II. II. 755, 2 tu 70 ? vhaTo<; iariv aTToppco^, cf. Od. 
 X. 514, where the same words end the line; to II. ii. 774, 
 hCaKOLCTiv repiTOVTO Kal alyaveyaiv L6VT6<i, cf. Od. iv. 626, 
 and xvii. 168, where the same line occurs ; to II. ii. 776, where 
 the horses of the Myrmidons are spoken of as Xwtov ipeiTTopuevoi, 
 cf. Od. ix. 97, where the same words are used for Ulysses’ 
 
 
 e7s hi K\to<: oiov dKovofxev, ovdi ti Ihfxzv, II. II. 
 
 486. 
 
238 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 men wlien witli tlie Lotus-eaters; to II. ii. 873, v7]'TrLo<;, ovSi 
 TL ol TO 7 ’ eTTYjpKecre Xvypov oXeOpov, cf. Od. iv. 292, aXyiov, 
 ov yap OL TL rd 7 ’ ^pKeae Xvypov oXedpov. 
 
 None of the passages above quoted or referred to are to be 
 found anywhere else in the Iliad, so that if from the Iliad at 
 all, they are from the catalogues. But having already shown, 
 as I believe, that the writer of the Odyssey knew lines 76, 77, 
 78, 184, 216, 217, and 408 of Book ii., and accepting the rest 
 of the Book as written by Homer, with or without assistance, 
 I shall not argue further in support of my contention that the 
 whole of Book ii. was known to, and occasionally borrowed 
 from, by the writer of the Odyssey. 
 
 Perhaps the prettiest example of unconscious cerebration in, 
 the Odyssey is to be found in the opening line of Od. iii, which 
 runs r]eXio<; B' dvopovae Xiircbv nrepLicaXXea XlpLvrjv, which is 
 taken from II. V. 20, iSaio? B' diropovcre Xittcov TrepLKaXXia 
 Bl(j>pov' One is at a loss to conceive how a writer so apparently 
 facile should drift thus on to an Iliadic line of such different 
 signification except as the result of saturation. It is inconceiv¬ 
 able that she should have cast about for a line to say that the 
 sun was rising, and thought that Idsens jumping off his chariot 
 would do. She again has this line in her mind when in Book 
 xxii. 95 she writes 'TrjXepLa')(o<^ S’ diropovae Xlttcov BoXL^oaKiov 
 €7X09. 
 
 The same kind of unconscious cerebration evidenced by the 
 lines last referred to leads her sometimes to repeat lines of her 
 own in a strange way, without probably being at all aware of 
 it. As for example :— 
 
 /SaaiX^e^ . elal kol dXXoL 
 
 TToXXol €V dpL(f)LdXm ’IdaKy vkoi ?}Se iraXatoit 
 
 (i. 394, 395). 
 
 This passage in the following Book becomes :— 
 
 5 V 5 ' '' 
 
 eiGL 06 
 
 TToXXal iv dpi^idXtp IdaKp veai rjBe TraXaial' 
 
 (ii. 292, 293). 
 
 Another similar case is that of the famous line about 
 
UNCONSCIOUS CEKBBRATION. 
 
 239 
 
 Sisypliiis’ stone bounding down hill in a string of dactyls, 
 Od, xi. 598, it runs :—■ 
 
 auTi? eireira TreSovSe KvXlvhero \aa<; avai^rj^;. 
 
 “ The cruel stone came hounding down again on to the 
 plain.” I believe this to be nothing but an unconscious 
 adaptation from the one dactylic line that I can remember 
 in the Iliad^ I mean 
 
 d/jL(f)OT6pco Be revovre koX oarea Xda? dvaiB^’^ 
 dTrrfKoirjaev. 
 
 11, IV. 521, 522. 
 
 “ The cruel stone shattered the bones of the neck, tendons 
 and all.” Granted (which is very doubtful) that there may be 
 an accommodation of sound to sense in the Odyssean line, I 
 contend that the suggestion came from the Iliadic line. 
 
 I would gladly go through the whole Iliad calling attention 
 to the use the writer of the Odyssey has made of it, but to do 
 this would require hardly less than a book to itself. I will 
 therefore ask the reader to accept my statement that no one 
 Book in the Iliad shows any marked difference from the others 
 as regards the use that has been made of it, and will limit 
 myself to those Books that have been most generally declared 
 to be later additions—I mean Book x. and Book xviii.—for I 
 consider that I have already sufficiently shown the writer of 
 the Odyssey to have known Books i., xxiv., and the Catalogues 
 in Book ii. It may be well, however, to include Book xi. in 
 my examination, for this is one of the most undoubted, and it 
 will be interesting to note that the writer of the Odyssey has 
 both the most doubted and undoubted Books equally at her 
 fingers’ ends. I shall only call attention to passages that do 
 not occur more than once in the Iliad^ and will omit the very 
 numerous ones that may be considered as common form. 
 
 In II. X. 141, 142 we find :— 
 
 Tl(j>6’ OVTCt) ; . 
 
 'NvKTa Bl* dpijSpoalrjVj and in Od. ix. 401, 402, 
 
 TiTTTe Toaov . 
 
 'Nv/cra Bl dpLjBpoalrjy. 
 
240 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 In II. X. 142, OIL Toaov lk€L/ cf. Od. ii. 28, riva 
 
 ' ')^pei(£> Toaov Lfcei,» 
 
 II. X. 158 begins with the words Xdf ttoBX Kivrjaa^. So also 
 does Od. XV. 45. 
 
 II. X. 214 has, oaaoL yap v^eaaLV iiriKpareovatv dpiaroL, 
 this line is found Od. i. 245, xvi. 122 , xix. 130, but with 
 vrjaoLatv instead of vijeaaLV. 
 
 II. X. 220 ends with orpvvei KpaBCrj Kal 6vp^o<i dyrjvwp, so 
 also does Od. xviii. 61. 
 
 II. X. 221 has dvBpoiV Bvapbeveodv Bvvat arpciTOv iyyv^ 
 iovTcov ; cf Od. iv. 246, dvBpcov BucrpLevecov KareBv TroXtv 
 evpvdyviav' 
 
 II. X. 243, 244 have, ttw? av eVetj’ 'OBvar}o<i iyoo Oeioto 
 Xadoipurjv, ov irepl fxev . 
 
 In Od. i. 65, 66 we find the same words only with ^9 instead 
 of ov. This is a very convincing case, for the eVetra, which is 
 quite natural in the Iliadic line, is felt to be rather out of 
 place in the Odyssean one, and makes it plain that the 
 Odyssean passage was taken from the Iliadic, not vice versa. 
 
 II. X. 255 ends with ixevoTrroXepbo^i Qpa(jvp,r]Brj<^, so also 
 does Od. iii. 442. 
 
 II. X. 278, 279, . ^ re fioi alei 
 
 ey rrdvreaaL rroyoiat, Traptaraaac . 
 
 cy. Od. xiii. 300, 301,.^ re rot, alel 
 
 iv rcdvreaai rTovoiai nrapiaraixai . 
 
 II. X. 292—295, cot 8 ’ av eyed pe^co jSovv ^viv evpvpLerwirov 
 dBpbrjT7]V, ov TTft) VTTO ^vyov ijyayey dvtjp. 
 ryy rot eyo) pe^co fcipaaiv 7r€pL')(^€va<;. 
 
 0)9 eepay ev^ofievoi, rwy 8’ 6kXv€ [IaXXd9 ’AO^yrj. 
 
 The first three of these four lines is repeated verbatim 
 in Od. iii. 382-384. In Od. 385 the fourth line becomes 
 0)9 eej^ar^ €V)(^6pL6vo<; rov 8 ’ e/eXve naXXd 9 
 
 II. X. 350 . daaov r enl ovpa TreXovrat ^/^torojv, cj^. 
 
 Od. viii. 124 daaov t’ iv veico ovpov TreXet '^pnovonv. 
 
 II. 'X. 400, rov 8 ’ i7ri/Lt€LByaa<; rrpoae^r) iroXvfjLrjrt^s ^OSvaaev?, 
 this line occurs Od. xxii. 371. 
 
 II. X. 429 ends with Biol re IleXaayol, so also does Od. xix. 
 177. 
 
THE GENUINENESS OF ILIAD X.- 
 
 241 
 
 II. X, 457, (f)9€yyopevov S’ apa tov ye fcdpr] Koviycnv 
 this line is found Od. xxii. 329. 
 
 II. X. 534, y^ev<jof.LaL ^ eTvpov epeco ; KeXerai he pL6 6vpi6<i, 
 In Od. iv. 140 this line is found. 
 
 II. X. 55-6, pela 6e6^ 7 ’ eOeXwv teal, k.t.%. Cf. Od. iii. 231. 
 
 II. X. 576 69 p aGapulvdov^ ^dvre^ ev^eara^ XovdavTO, 
 See Od. iv. 48, xvii. 87. 
 
 Here, then, are seventeen apparent quotations from 
 Book X., omitting any claim- on lines whicli, though they are 
 found in the Odyssey\ are also found in other Books of the Iliad., 
 fram which, and not from Book x., it may be alleged that the 
 writer of the Odyssey took them. This makes the writer ot| 
 the Odyssey to have taken about one line in every 33 of thq 
 579 lines of which Book x. consists. Disciples of Wolf—no 
 two of whom, however, are of the same opinion, so it is hard 
 to say who they are—must either meet my theury that the 
 Odyssey is all written at one place, by one hand, and in the 
 eleventh century b.c., with stranger weapons than during the 
 last six years they have shown any signs of possessing, or 
 they must fall back on some Laputan-manner-of-making- 
 books theory, which they will be able to devise better than 
 I can. 
 
 I do not forget that the opponents of the genuineness of 
 II. X. may contend that the passages above given: were taken 
 from the Odyssey^ but this contention should not be urged in 
 respect of Book xi more than in respect of the other Books, 
 which are all of them equally replete with passages that are 
 found in the Odyssey^ and in the case given above of II. x. 
 243, 244 and Od. \. 65, 66 , it is not easy to doubt that the 
 Iliadic passage is the original, and the Odyssean the copy. 
 
 I will now deal with the undoubted Book xi., omitting as 
 in the case of Book x. all lines that occur in other Books, 
 unless I call special attention to them. 
 
 The first two lines of Book xi. are identical with the first 
 two of Book V. of the Odyssey., bnt II. xi. 2 occurs also in 
 II. XIX. 2. 
 
 II. XI. 42, 43, LTTTTovpLV’ heivov he KaOvirepOev eVeaer, 
 
 €i\eTO S’ akKLpia hovpe hvco, K€Kopv6/jLeva '^aXxwi 
 
 R 
 
242 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 These two lines are found Od, xxii. 124, 125, but the first 
 * of them occurs three or four times elsewhere in the Iliad. 
 
 11 . XI. 181, d/\A’ OTB hr] rd^ e/aeTCkev vtto ttjoXlv alirv re 
 
 Tet ;^09 
 
 i^eaOaL rore hrj . 
 
 cf. OdA^. 514, 515, aXA’ ore hr) rd^ efxeWe MaXelaorv opo^ alirv 
 i^eaOaL t6t€ hr}..,. .. 
 
 II. xi. 201 , irpoirjfce rely rdhe pLvOtjaaaOatj cf. Od. iv. 829, 
 where the same words occur. 
 
 II. XI. 253, dvTtKpv<; 3e hi6cr')(^6 c^aefcyov hovpb<; dicwKi]. cf. 
 Od. xix. 453, where the same line occurs but with hirjXde for 
 hlea-^e. 
 
 II. XI. 531, w? dpa (f)Q}V}](Ta<s Ljaacrev KaWiTptx^<; iTTTrou? 
 cf. Od. XV. 215, where the same line occurs but with eXaaev 
 instead of Xp^aoev. 
 
 II. XI. 624-639. The mess which Hecamede cooked for 
 Patroclus and Machaou was surely present to the mind of the 
 writer of the Odyssey when she was telling about the mess 
 which Circe cooked for Ulysses’ men, Od. x. 234, 235. 
 
 II. XI. 668 , 669 . ov yap eyr] t<; 
 
 OLT] 7rdpo<; eaKcv ivl yvapLirTolaL fiiXecratv 
 cf. Od. xiV 393, 394j dW ov yap ol er eyctTreSo? ovhk tl kXkv^ 
 
 oXt] irep irdpo^s eaKev ivl yvapinolcFL p^eXeaaLV, 
 
 II. XI. 678, 679. dyeXa<i, tog a ircoea oImv 
 
 roaaa avcbv av^OGLa, rocr’ aliroXia irXare^ alycbv. 
 
 These lines occur Od. xiv. 100, 101 but with dyiXai instead of 
 dyiXa<;. 
 
 II. XI. 742, Tov pev iyar irpoGLOvra ^dXov ^aXfc^pe'i hovpX. 
 This line is found Od. xiii. 267 but with KariovTa for irpoGLovra. 
 
 II. Xl.lll ^GTTjpev ivl TTpoOvpoLGL Ta(f)cbv 3 ’ dvopovGEv ’A^iXXev^;, 
 cf. Od. xvi. 12, oGTr] ivl irpoOvpoiGt, racfrcav 3’ dvopovGe Gv^dcbrrjf;, 
 
 Here we have only eleven well-marked passages common to 
 both poems, in spite of the fact that Book xi. is nearly 300 
 lines longer than Book x., but I am precluded from referring 
 to any 'passages that occur also in any other Book of the Iliad. 
 Running my eye over the underlined lines in my copy of the 
 Iliad^ I do not find much, though I admit that there is some, 
 difference between their frequency in Book xi., and in the other 
 
BOOKS XI. AND XVIII. OF THE ILIAD. 
 
 243 
 
 Books. Furthermore I own to finding Book xi. perhaps the 
 least interesting and the most perfunctorily written in all the 
 Iliad^ and can well believe that the writer of the Odyssey 
 borrowed from it less because she was of the same opinion, hut 
 however this may he, the number of common passages above 
 collected is ample to establish the fact that the writer of the 
 Odyssey had Book xi. in her mind as well as Book x. 
 
 I will now go on to examine the passages in II. xviii. which 
 the writer of the Odyssey has wholly nr in part adopted. They 
 are:— 
 
 II. XVIII. 22-24, foi? (jydTO tov B’ a;^eo9 V€(j)6\r] ifcd\v\p'€ [xekaLva 
 dijL(pOTep7jaL Be ')(€palv iXayv kovlv aldaXoeaaav 
 yevaro KaK yapiev B* ycryvve TTpocrcoTrov. 
 
 These lines are found Od. xxiv. 315-317 except that as they 
 refer to an old man, instead of, as in the Iliad^ ta a young 
 one, yapiev 3’ ijcryvve rrrpoacoTTOV has become TroXtfi? dBivd 
 aTevayL^coy. The first of the three lines occurs also in JZ. xvii. 
 591. 
 
 II. XVIII. 108, Kal o? t ’ icfyeijfce irdkix^povd irep %aXe- 
 
 irrjvaLy 
 
 II. XVIII. 250, Hav6otBrj<^' 6 yap olo'^ opa Trpocraoo Kal 
 OTTLcrao), 
 
 cf. 0^/. xxiv. 452, where however naj'6’oif‘3779becomesMao-Topt3r/?. 
 II. XVIII. 344-349, 
 
 dp,^l TTvpl aTTjaat, TpiiroBa fikyav 6(jipa rdyicrra 
 ndrpoKXov Xovaeuav diro /Sporov alpLaToevra, 
 ol 8e Xoerpoyoov rpiTroB^ '(aracrav eV Trvpl KrjXew, 
 ey o ap vocop eyeay^ vtto be ^vXa baioy eXoyre^;' 
 ydarprjv puey TpLWoBo<; irvp dfKpeTre, deppLero B’ vBcop 
 avrdp eirel B^ ^eaaey vBcop evi ^vottl yaX/cd, 
 cf. Od. viii. 434-437, 6cf)pa rdyiara becomes ottc rdytara. 
 
 II. XVIII. 345 is omitted. In the following line ol becomes 
 aly and in the one after this eXorre? becomes eXovaar 
 
 The last line of the Iliadic passage is not given in Od. viii, 
 but appears without alteration in Od. x. 360. 
 
 This line occurs Od. xx. 46. 
 
244 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 II. XVIII. 385-387, 
 
 TLirre ©ert TavvTreirXe, LKavei^: '^fxerepov 
 al^oir) re (piXi] re ; TTdpo<^ je piev ov ri 6aiiL^et<^, 
 dW^ eireo TTporepco ha tol rrdp ^eivia Seico* 
 
 II. XVIII. 424-427, 
 
 TLirre Qeri, ravvireTrXe, iKavet^; 'qp.erepov 
 alhoLT} re re ; '7rdpo<; ye ptev ov ri OaixL^eL^' 
 
 a vSa 6 ri (ppoveet<i’ reXeaai. Se pie 6vpiO^ dvcayev 
 el SvvapLat reXeaai ye kol el rereXeapievov earcv. 
 
 The Odyssey (v. 87-91) has both these passages combined 
 as follows:— 
 
 Tlirre piOLy 'EppLela )(pucF6ppa'iTL, elX'^XovOa^ 
 alSoL6<;, re (jylXo^; re ; ’7rdpo<; ye piev ov n 6api'i^eL<i 
 avSa 6 ri (ppoveei^' reXeoai Se pie 6vpo<i dvwyev 
 el Svvapai reXeaai ye /cal el rereXeapevov earlv. 
 dXA’ eneo irporepWy Xva roi rrdp ^elvoa deico. 
 
 II. XVIIl. 389, 390. eirl Opovov dpyvpor^Xov 
 
 KaXov SaiSaXeov' vtto Se dprfvv^ iroalv ^ev* 
 
 These lines will be found Od. x. 314, 315. 
 
 II. XVIII. 430, ocrcr’ epol eK rraaewv KpovLSrj<i Zea? dXye’ eSco/cev, 
 
 cf. Od. iv. 722, 723. rrepi ydp poi ^OXvpmo<^ dXye’ eScoKev 
 
 e/c rraaeoyv, 
 
 II. XVIII. 457, rovveKa vvv rd aci yovvaQ’’ l/cdvopai at /c 
 
 edeXrjada. 
 
 This line occurs Od. iii. 92 and Od. iv. 322. 
 
 II. XVIII. 463, Odpaeiy p'^ roi ravra perd (f)peal arjat peXovrccv* 
 This line occurs Od. xiii. 362, xvi. 436, and xxiv. 357. 
 
 II. XVIII. 486-489 6' . 
 
 dpKTOV 0', /cal dpa^av eirL/cXrjaLV /caXeovatv, 
 
 ^ t’ avrov arpe(perai, Kai t’ ^^Iptcova So/ceuet 
 otrj S’ dppopo<^ eon Xoerpcdv ^H/ceavoio' 
 
 These lines occur Od. v. 272-275. 
 
 II. XVIII. 532, 533, aryjadpevoL S’ epd)(^ovro pd^rjv irorapolo 
 
 rrap^ 6)(^0a<i 
 
 ^dXXov S’ dXX'^Xov<; ')(^aX/CTqpecnv ey^elpa lv' 
 
 These lines are fouud Od. ix. 54, 55 with irapd yrjval 0o^aiv 
 instead of irorapolo Trap' 6^0a<;. 
 
THE GENUINENESS OF ILIAD XVIII. 
 
 245 
 
 Tl. XVIII. 604-606, 
 
 TepiToix&voL' fiera Se a(^iv ifieX-ireTO Oeio^ aoiSo 9 
 
 (j)op/j,L^o)v' Bold) Be Kv^epvLarrjpe kclt^ avTOV<^ 
 
 /uoAtt^? e^dp^ovTO<; iBlvevov Kara fxeaov. 
 
 These lines occur Od. iv. 17-19. 
 
 To meet the possible objection that IL xviii. was written 
 later than the Odyssey^ and might therefore have borrowed 
 from it, 1 will quote the context of line 108 as well as the line 
 itself. The passage runs (xviii. 107-110) :—■ 
 
 0)9 ept9 etc re Oeoiv 6 k t’ dvOpcoTTcov clitoXolto 
 KOL 09 t’ 6(f)ei]f€6 TToXvtppovd TTcp ')(^aXeTTrjvaiy 
 
 09 T6 iToXv yXvKLcov yueAtTo? KaTaXei^OfievoLO 
 dvBpwv €V aTr}6e(T(TLV de^eraL yvT€ Kairvo^;. 
 
 The context of the Odyssean line which I suppose to be 
 derived from this noble passage is as follows (xiv. 462-465) :— 
 K€KXv0t vvv ’Eofiate, Kal dXXot irdvre^ eralpoL' 
 €v^dp,€v6<i TL 67709 ipico' oIuo<i ydp dvcoyeL 
 9)A609, 09 t’ 6(f)er]K6 7roXv(j)povd Trep p,d\^ delcrat 
 Kal 6^ d’TTCfXov yeXdaaL, Kai t' op'^'^aaaOaL dvr^Kev, 
 
 Which is the most likely—that the magnificent Iliadic lines 
 were developed from Od. xiv. 464, or that this line is an 
 unconscious adaptation from II. xviii. 108 ? For that the two 
 lines are father and son will hardly be disputed. 
 
 Which again commends itself best—that the writer of 
 II. XVIII. took the heating of Ulysses’ bath water to heat water 
 for Patroclus, or that the writer of the Odyssey omitted the 
 line about Patroclus, and used the rest of the passage to heat 
 water for Ulysses’ bath ? 
 
 As regards the two salutations to Thetis {II. xviii. 385-387, 
 and 424-427), is it more likely that the writer of II. xviii. made 
 two bites of the Odyssean cherry of v. 87-91, or that the writer 
 of the Odyssey., wanting but a single salutation, combined the 
 two Iliadic ones as in the passage above given ? 
 
 Lastly, is the list of constellations which Vulcan put on to 
 the shield of Achilles more likely to have been amplified from 
 Od. V. 272-275, or these last-named lines to have been taken, 
 with such modification as was necessary, from II. xviii. 486- 
 489 ? Whatever may be the date of the Odyssey., I cannot 
 
246 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 doubt that II. xviii. must be dated earlier ; and yet there is no 
 Tlook of the Iliad about which our eminent Homeric scholars 
 are more full of small complaints, or more unanimous in 
 regarding as an interpolation. If there is one part of the Iliad 
 rather than another in which Homer shows himself unapproach¬ 
 able, it is in his description of the shield of Achilles. 
 
 I will again assure the reader that all the Books of the 
 Iliad seem, drawn from with the same freedom as that shown in 
 those which I have now dealt with in detail, and also that I 
 can find no part of the Odyssey which borrows any less freely 
 from the Iliad than the rest of the poem; here and there 
 difference of subject leads the writer to go three or four pages 
 without a single Iliadic cento, but this is rare. One or two^ 
 or even sometimes three or four, Iliadic passages in a page is 
 nearer the average, but of these some will be what may be 
 called common form, 
 
 Their frequency raises no suggestion of plagiarism any more 
 than the Biblical quotations in Pilgrim^s Progress would do 
 if the references were cut out. They are so built into the 
 context as to be structural, not ornamental; and to preclude the 
 idea of their having been added by copyists or editors. They 
 seem to be the spontaneous outcome of the fullness of the 
 writer’s knowledge of the Iliad. It is also evident that she is 
 not making a resume of other people’s works; she is telling 
 the story de novo from the point of view of herself, her home, 
 her countrymen, and the whole island of Sicily. Other 
 peoples and places may be tolerated, but ^they raise no en¬ 
 thusiasm in her mind. 
 
 Nevertheless, a certain similarity of style and feeling 
 between the Odyssey and all the poems of the Epic cycle is 
 certain to have existed, and indeed can be proved to have 
 existed from the fragments of the lost poems that still remain. 
 In all art, whether literary, pictorial, musical, or architectural, 
 a certain character will be common to a certain age and 
 country. Every age has its stock subjects for artistic treat¬ 
 ment ; the reason for this is that it is convenient for the 
 reader, spectator, or listener, to be familiar with the main 
 putlines of the story. Written literature is freer in this respect 
 
SHE IS ANGRY WITH HOMER, 
 
 247 
 
 tlian painting or sculpture, for it can explain and prepare tlie 
 reader better for what is coming. Literature which, though 
 written, is intended mainly for recitation before an audience 
 few of whom can read, exists only on condition of its appealing 
 instantly to the understanding, and will, therefore, deal only 
 with what the hearer is supposed already to know in outline. 
 The writer may take any part of the stock national subjects 
 that he or she likes, and within reasonable limits may treat it 
 according to his or her fancy, but it must hitch on to the old 
 familiar story, and hence will arise a certain similarity of style 
 between all poems of the same class that belong to the same 
 age, language, and people. This holds just as good for the 
 medieval Italian painters as it does for the Epic cycle. They 
 otfer us a similarity in dissimilarity and a dissimilarity in 
 similarity. 
 
 When we remember, however, that the style of the Odyssey 
 must not only perforce gravitate towards that of all the other 
 then existing epic poems, but also that the writer’s mind is as 
 strongly leavened with the mind of Homer, let alone the other 
 Cyclic poets, as we have seen it to be, it is not surprising that 
 the veneer of virility thus given to a woman’s work should 
 have concealed the less patent, but far more conclusive, 
 evidence that the writer was not of the same sex as the man, 
 or men, from whom she was borrowing. 
 
 At the same time, in spite of the use she makes of Homer, 
 I think she was angry with him, and perhaps jealous ; on 
 which head I will say more in my next Chapter. Possibly the 
 way he laughs at women and teases them, not because he 
 dislikes them, but because he enjoys playing with them, 
 irritates her; she was not disposed to play on such a serious 
 subject. We have seen how she retorts on him for having 
 made a tripod worth three times as much as a good serviceable 
 woman of all work. His utter contempt, again, for the gods, 
 which he is at no pains to conceal, would be offensive to a 
 writer who never permits herself to go beyond the occasional 
 mild irreverence of the Vicar’s daughter. Therefore, she treats 
 Homer, as its seems to me, not without a certain hardness j 
 and this is the only serious fault I have to find with her. 
 
248 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 For example, she takes the concluding lines of Hector’s 
 farewell to Andromache, a passage which one would have 
 thought she would have shrunk from turning to common uses, 
 and puts it into the mouth of Telemachus when he is simply 
 telling his mother to take herself off. She does this in 
 i. 356-359 and again in xxi. 350-353. This is not as it should 
 he. ISTor yet again is her taking the water that was heated to 
 wash the blood from the body of poor Patroclus {II. xviii. 
 344 &G.) and using it for Ulysses’ hath [Od. viii. 434-437). 
 Surely the disrespect here is deeper than any that can be 
 found in Homer towards the gods. 
 
 But, whatever the spirit may have been in which the writer 
 of the Odyssey has treated the Iliad, I cannot doubt that 
 that she knew this poem exceedingly well in the shape in 
 which we have it, and this is the point which I have thought 
 it worth while to endeavour to substantiate at such length in 
 the foregoing Chapter. 
 
( 249 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE ODYSSEY IN ITS RELATION TO THE OTHER POEMS OF THE 
 
 TROJAN CYCLE, AND ITS DEVELOPMENT IN THE HANDS OF 
 
 THE AUTHORESS. 
 
 The writer of the Odyssey appears to have known most of 
 those lost poems of the Epic cycle—eight in number—that 
 relate to Troy, but as all we know about them is from the 
 summaries given in tlie fragment of Proclns, and from a few 
 lines here and there quoted in later authors, we can have no 
 irrefragable certainty that she had the poems before her even 
 when she alludes to incidents mentioned by Proclns as being 
 dealt with in any given one of them. Nevertheless, passages 
 in Od. i. and iii. make it probable that she knew the Nosti or 
 the Return of the Achieans from Troy, and we may suppose 
 that Nestor’s long speeches [Od. iii. 102-200 and 253-328) are 
 derived mainly from this source, for they contain particulars 
 that correspond closely with the epitome of the Nosti given 
 by Proclns. 
 
 We can thus explain the correctness of the topography of the 
 iEga3an sea that is manifested in Nestor’s speeches, but no 
 where else in the poem beyond a bare knowledge of the 
 existence of Apollo’s shrine in Delos [Od. vi. 162) and an 
 occasional mention of Crete. I see Professor Jebb says that 
 the Odyssey “shows a familiar knowledge of Delos;”* but 
 there is no warrant for this assertion from anything in the poem. 
 
 The writer of the Odyssey seems, in Book iv., to have also 
 known the Cypria, which dealt with the events that led up to 
 the Trojan war. 
 
 Book xxiv. of the Odyssey (35-97) suggests a knowledge of 
 the NEthiopis. So also does the mention of Memnon [Od. 
 xi. 522). 
 
 * Introduction to Homer, Macmillan, 1888, p. 172. 
 
250 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 Knowledge of tlie Little Iliad may be suspected from 
 Od. iv. 271-283, where Helen seems to be now married to 
 Deiphobus, and from xi. 543-562 ; as also from xi. 508, 509, 
 where Ulysses says that he tooh Neoptolemus to Scyrns. 
 Ulysses entering Troy as a spy [Od. iv. 242-256) is also given 
 by Proclus as one of the incidents in the Little Iliad. I do 
 not see, therefore, that there can be much doubt about the 
 writer of the Odyssey having been acquainted with the Little 
 Iliad, a poem which was apparently of no great length, being 
 only in four Books. 
 
 From the two Books of the Sack of Troy we get the account 
 of the council held by the Trojans over the wooden horse [Od. 
 viii. 492-517). 
 
 We have seen how familiar the authoress of the Odyssey 
 was with the Iliad; there only remains, therefore, one of the 
 eight Trojan poems which she does not appear to have known— 
 I mean the Telegony, which is generally, and one would say 
 correctly, placed later than the Odyssey; but even though it 
 were earlier we may be sure that the writer of the Odyssey 
 would have ignored it, for it will hardly bear her out in the 
 character she has given of Penelope. 
 
 In passing I may say that though Homer (meaning, of 
 course, the writer of the Iliad) occasionally says things that 
 suggest the Cypria, there is not a line that even suggests 
 knowledge of a single one of the incidents given by Proclus as 
 forming the subjects of the other Books of the Trojan cycle; 
 the inference, therefore, would seem to be that none of them, 
 except possibly, though very uncertainly, the Cypria, had 
 appeared before he wrote. Nevertheless we cannot be sure 
 that this was so. 
 
 The curious question now arises why the writer of the 
 Odyssey should have avoided referring to a single Hiadic 
 incident, while showing no unwillingness to treat more or less 
 fully of almost all those mentioned by Proclus as dealt with in 
 the other poems of the Trojan cycle, and also while laying the 
 Iliad under such frequent contributions. 
 
 I remember saying to a great publisher that a certain book 
 was obviously much indebted to a certain other book to which 
 
251 
 
 THE ODYSSEY AND THE TROJAN CYCLE. 
 
 no reference was made. “ Has the writer,” said the publisher 
 in question, “referred to other modern books on the same 
 subject?” I answered, “Certainly.” “ Then,” said he, “let 
 me tell yon that it is our almost unvaried experience that when 
 a writer mentions a number of other books, and omits one 
 which he has evidently borrowed from, the omitted book is the 
 one which has most largely suggested his own.” His words 
 seemed to explain my difficulty about the way in which the 
 writer of the Odyssey lets the incidents of the Iliad so severely 
 alone. It was the poem she was trying to rival, if not to 
 supersede. She knew it to be far the finest of the Trojan cycle; 
 she was so familiar with it that appropriate lines from it were 
 continually suggesting themselves to her—and what is an 
 appropriate line good for if it is not to be appropriated ? She 
 knew she could hold her own against the other poems, but she 
 did not feel so sure about the Iliad^ and she would not cover 
 any of the ground which it had already occupied. 
 
 Of course there is always this other explanation possible, 1 
 mean that traditions about Homer’s private life may have been 
 known to the writer of the Odyssey^ which displeased her. He 
 may have beaten his wife, or run away with somebody else’s, 
 or both, or done a hundred things which made him not exactly 
 the kind of person whom Arete would like her daughter to 
 countenance more than was absolutely necessary. I believe, 
 however, that the explanation given in the preceding paragraph 
 is the most reasonable. 
 
 And now let me explain what I consider to have been the 
 development of the Odyssey in the hands of the poetess. 1 
 cannot think that she deliberately set herself to write an epic 
 poem of great length. The work appears to have grown on 
 her hands piecemeal from small beginnings, each additional 
 effort opening the door for further development, till at last 
 there the Odyssey was—a spontaneous growth rather than a 
 thing done by observation. Had it come by observation, no 
 doubt it would have been freer from the anomalies, incon¬ 
 sistencies, absurdities, and small slovenlinesses which are 
 inseparable from the development of any long work, the plan 
 of which has not been fully thought out beforehand. But 
 
252 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 surely in losing these it would have lost not a little of its 
 charm. 
 
 From Professor Jehb’s Tntroduction -to Horner^ Ed. 1888, 
 p. 131, I see that he agrees with Kirchholf in holding that the 
 Odyssey contains “distinct strata of poetical material from 
 different sources and periods,” and also that the poem owes its 
 present unity of form to one man ; he continues ;— 
 
 But under this unity of form, there are perceptible traces of a 
 process by which different compositions were adapted to one another. 
 
 In a note on the preceding page he tells us that Kirchhoff 
 regards the first 87 verses of Book i. as having formed the 
 exordium of the original Peturn of Ulysses. 
 
 My own conclusions, arrived at to the best of my belief 
 before I had read a word of Professor Jebb’s Introduction^ 
 agree in great part with the foregoing. I found the Odyssey 
 to consist of two distinct poems, with widely different aims, 
 and united into a single work, not unskilfully, but still not so 
 skilfully as to conceal a change of scheme. The two poems 
 are : 1. The visit of Ulysses to the Pheeacians, with the story 
 of his adventures as related by himself. 2. The story of 
 Penelope and the suitors, with the episode of Telemachus’s 
 voyage to Pylos. Of these two, the first was written before 
 the writer had any intention of dealing with the second, while 
 the second in the end became more important than the first. 
 
 I cordially agree with Kirchhoff that the present exordium 
 belongs to the earlier poem, but I would break it off at line 79, 
 and not at 87. It is a perfect introduction to the Peturn of 
 Ulj^sses, but it is no fit opening for the Odyssey as it stands. 
 I had better perhaps give it more fully than I have done in 
 my abridgement. It runs :— 
 
 Tell me, oh Muse, of that ingenious hero who travelled far and 
 wide after he had sacked the strong citadel of Troy. He saw many 
 cities and learned the manners of many nations; moreover, he 
 suffered much by sea while trying to save his own life and bring his 
 men safely home; but do what he might he could not save his men, 
 for they perished through their own sheer folly in eating the cattle 
 
THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 253 
 
 of the Sun-god Hyperion; so the god prevented them from ever 
 getting home. Tell me too about all these things, oh daughter of 
 Jove, from whatever source you may know them (i. 1-10). 
 
 Then follows the statement that Ulysses was with the 
 nymph Calypso, nnahle to escape, and that his enemy, Neptnne, 
 had gone to the Ethiopians (i. 11-21). The gods meet in 
 council and Jove makes a speech about the revenge taken by 
 Orestes on H5gisthns (i. 26-43) ; Minerva checks him, turns the 
 subjects on to Ulysses, and upbraids Jove with neglecting him 
 (i. 44-62). Jove answers that he had not forgotten him, and 
 continues:— 
 
 “Bear in mind that Neptune is still furious with Ulysses for 
 having blinded an eye of Polyphemus, king of the Cyclopes. Poly¬ 
 phemus is son to Neptune by the nymph Thoosa, daughter to the 
 sea-king Phorcys, but instead of killing him outright he torments 
 him by preventing him from getting home. Still, let us lay our 
 heads together and see how we can help him to return. Neptune 
 will then be pacified, for if we are all of a* mind he can hardly hold 
 out against us unsupported ” (i. 68-79). 
 
 Let us now omit the rest of Book i.. Books ii. iii. and iv. 
 and go on with line 28 of Book v., which follows after a very 
 similar council to the one that now stands at the beginniug of 
 Book i. Continuing with line 28 of Book v. we read :— 
 
 When he had thus spoken he said to his son Mercury : “ Mercury, 
 you are our messenger, go therefore and tell Calypso we have 
 decreed that poor Ulysses is to return home. He is to be conveyed 
 neither by gods nor men, but after a perilous voyage of twenty days 
 upon a raft he is to reach fertile Scheria, &c.” (v. 28-34). 
 
 From this point the poem continues with only one certain, 
 and another doubtful, reference to the suitors and Penelope, 
 until (according to Kirchhoff) line 184 of Book xiii. I had 
 thonght that the point of juncture between the two poems was 
 in the middle of line 187, and that the eypero in the second 
 half of the line had perhaps been originally evSev ; but it must 
 be somewhere close about this line, and I am quite ready to 
 adopt Kirchhoff’s opinion now that I have come to see why 
 Ulysses was made to sleep so profoundly on leaving Scheria. 
 
254 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 Till 1 liad got hold of the explanation given on page 173, I 
 naturally thought that the strange sleep of Ulysses had been 
 intended to lead up to something that was to happen- in Ithaca, 
 and which had been cancelled when the scheme was enlarged 
 and altered • for without this explanation it is pointless as the 
 poem now stands. 
 
 I do not now thinh that there was ever any account of what 
 happened to Ulysses on his waking up in Ithaca, other than 
 what we now have, but rather that the writer was led to adopt 
 a new scheme at the very point where it became incumbent 
 upon her to complete an old one. For at this point she would 
 first find herself face to face with the difficulty of knowing 
 what to do with Ulysses in Ithaca after she had got him 
 there. 
 
 She could not ignore the suitors altogether ; their existence 
 and Penelope^s profligacy were too notorious. She could not 
 make Ulysses and Penelope meet happily while the suitors 
 were still in his house; and even though he killed them, he 
 could never condone Penelope’s conduct—not as an epic hero. 
 The writer of the Odyss^ey had evidently thought that she could 
 find some way out of the difficulty, but when it came to the 
 point she discovered that she must either make Ulysses kill 
 his wife along with the suitors, or contend that from first to 
 last she had been pure as new fallen snow. She chose the 
 second alternative, as she would be sure to do, and brazened it 
 out with her audience as best she could. At line 187, therefore, 
 of Book xiii. or thereabouts, she broke up her ‘ Return ’ camp 
 and started on a new campaign. 
 
 To bring the two poems together she added lines xi. 115-137, 
 in which Teiresias tells Ulysses about the suitors and his 
 further wanderings when he shall have killed them. I suppose 
 Teiresias’ prophecy to have originally ended where Circe’s does 
 when she repeats his warning about the cattle of the Sun-god 
 verbatim (xii. 137-140) with the line 
 
 6\pi naKWQ vEiai oXecraQ aVo Trdvrag iraipovg' 
 
 The first line of the addition to Teiresias’ original prophecy 
 (xi. 115) is also found with a slight variant in ix. 535, but it 
 
CHANGE IN THE SCHEME OF THE POEM. 
 
 255 
 
 merely states that Ulysses will find trouble in his house, 
 without mentioning what the trouble is to he. 
 
 With the two exceptions above noted, there is not only 
 nothing in the original poem {i.e., Book i. 1-79 and v. 28— xiii. 
 187 or thereabouts) to indicate any intention of dealing with 
 the suitors, but there are omissions which make it plain that 
 no such intention existed. In the proem the Muse is only asked 
 to sing the Keturn of Ulysses. In the speech of Jove at the 
 council of the gods (i. 32-43), he is not thinking about the 
 suitors, as he would assuredly do if the writer had as yet meant 
 to introduce them. In repeated speeches of the gods, and 
 especially in Book v. which is Book i. of the original poem 
 (see lines 36-42, 288, 289, and 345),* it seems that Ulysses’ most 
 serious troubles were to end when he had reached Scheria. 
 So again Calypso (v. 206-208) tries to deter him from leaving 
 her by saying that he little knows what he will have to go 
 through before he gets home again, hut she does not enforce her 
 argument by adding that when he had got to Ithaca the worst 
 was yet to come. I have already dealt with the silence of 
 Ulysses’ mother in Hades. 
 
 Noting, therefore, that omission is a more telling indication 
 of scheme than lines which, when a new subject is being 
 grafted on to an old one, are certain to be inserted where 
 necessary in order to unify the work, I have no hesitation in 
 believing that Books i. 1-79 and v. 28 —xiii. 187 or thereabouts, 
 formed as much as the authoress ever wrote of the original 
 poem; I have the less hesitation in adopting this conclusion 
 because, though I believe that I came to it independently as 
 any one must do who studies the Odyssey with due attention, 
 I find myself in substantial agreement with Kirchhotf in spite 
 of much difference of detail, for I cannot admit that the two 
 poems are by two or more separate people. 
 
 The introduction of lines xi. 115-137 and ^of line ix. 535, 
 with a writing of a new Council of the gods at the beginning 
 of Book V. to take the place of the one that was removed to 
 Book i. 1-79, were the only things that were done to give even 
 
 * None of these three passages will be found in my abridgement. 
 
25G 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 a semblance of unity to the old scheme and the new, and to 
 conceal the fact that the Muse after being asked to sing of one 
 subject spends two thirds of her time iu singing a very 
 different one, with a climax for which no one had asked her. 
 For, roughly, the Feturn occupies eight Books and Penelope 
 and the suitors sixteen. 
 
 That lines xi. 115-137 were non-existent when Book xiii. was 
 being written is demonstrated by the fact of Ulysses’ saying to 
 the Phaeacians that he hoped he should find his wife living 
 with her friends in peace (xiii. 42] 43). He could not have 
 said this if Teiresias had already told him that his house would 
 be full of enemies who were eating up his estate, and whom he 
 would have to kill. He could hardly forget such a prophecy 
 after having found Teiresias quite correct about the cattle of 
 the Sun-god. Indeed he tells Penelope about his visit to Hades 
 and his interview with Teiresias (xxiii. 323), so it is plain he 
 remembered it. It is plain, again (from xiii. 382 &c.), that 
 Ulysses was then learning from Minerva about the suitors for 
 the first time—which could not be if Teiresias’ prophecy had 
 been already written. 
 
 It is surprising, seeing what a little further modification 
 would have put everything quite straight, that the writer 
 should have been content to leave passages here and there 
 which she must have known woidd betray the want of 
 homogeneity in her work, hut we should be very thankful to 
 her for not having tidied it up with greater care. We learn 
 far more about her than we should do if she had made her 
 work go more perfectly upon all fours, and it is herself that 
 we value even more than her poem. She evidently preferred 
 cobbling to cancelling, and small wonder, for if, as was very 
 probably the case, the work was traced with a sharply pointed 
 style of hardened bronze, or even steel,^ on plates of lead, 
 alteration would not be so easy as it is with us. Besides, we 
 all cobble rather than cancel if we can. It is quite possible, 
 but I'need hardly say that it is not more than a mere possi¬ 
 bility, that the abruptness of the interpolation in Book iv. 
 
 ♦ 
 
 Od. ix. 391-393. 
 
MINEEVA ABSENT FROM BOOKS IX.-XII. 
 
 257 
 
 lines 621-624, may be dne simply to its having been possible to 
 introduce four lines without cutting the MS. about very badly, 
 when a longer passage would have necessitated a more radical 
 interference with it. 
 
 We look, then, for the -inception of the poem in Books i. 
 1-79 and v. 28—xiii. 187 or thereabouts, or more roughly in 
 Books V. —xii. inclusive. These Books, though they contain 
 no discrepancies among themselves except the twenty lines 
 added to the prophecy of Teiresias above referred to, are not 
 homogeneous in scope, though they are so in style and treat¬ 
 ment. They split themselves into two groups of four, i.e.^ 
 V. —viii. and ix.—xii. The first group is written to bring 
 Ulysses to Scheria and to exhibit the Phgeacians and the 
 writer herself—the interest in Ulysses being subordinate ; the 
 second is written to describe a periplus of Sicily. 
 
 Books ix.—^xii. appear to have been written before Books 
 V. —viii. We may gather this from the total absence of 
 Minerva. It is inconceivable that having introduced the 
 Goddess so freely in Books v.—viii. the writer should allow 
 her to drop out from the story when there was such abundant 
 scope for her interference. These Books are certainly by the 
 same hand as the rest of the poem. They show the same 
 amount of Iliadic infiuence; nowhere does a woman’s hand 
 appear more plainly; nowhere is Sicily, and more particularly 
 Trapani, more in evidence, direct or indirect. It is from the 
 beginning of Book ix. that we get our conviction that the 
 Ionian islands were drawn from the ^gadean, and the voyages 
 of Ulysses, as I have already shown, begin effectively with Mt. 
 Eryx and end with Trapani. We may, therefore, dismiss all 
 idea that Books ix.—xii. are by another writer. 
 
 Not only is the absence of Minerva inexplicable except by 
 supposing that at the time these Books were written it was no 
 part of the writer’s scheme to make her such a dea ex machind 
 as she becomes later, but the writer shows herself aware that 
 the absence of the goddess in Books ix.—xii. requires apology, 
 and makes Ulysses upbraid her for having neglected him from 
 the time he left Troy till she took him into the city of the 
 Ph^acians (xiii. 314-323). The goddess excuses herself by 
 
 s 
 
258 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 . saying she had known all the time that he would get home 
 quite safely, and had kept away because she did not want to 
 quarrel with her uncle Neptune—an excuse which we also find 
 at the end of Book vi., in which Book she has, nevertheless, 
 been beautifying Ulysses and making herself otherwise useful 
 to him. I suppose Neptune did not mind how much his niece 
 helped Ulysses, provided she did not let him see her. 
 
 I know how my own books, especially the earlier ones, got 
 cut about, rearranged, altered in scheme, and cobbled to hide 
 alteration, so that I never fairly knew what my scheme was 
 till the book was three-quarters done, and I credit young 
 writers generally with a like tentativeness. 
 
 I have now, I believe, shown sufficient cause for thinking 
 that Books ix.—xii., i.e.^ the voyage of Ulysses round Sicilyy 
 were the part of the Odyssey that was written first. I am 
 further confirmed in this opinion by finding Ulysses fasten his 
 box with a knot that Circe had taught him (viii. 448)—as 
 though the writer knew ail about Circe, though the audience, 
 of course, could not yet do so. A knowledge of Book ix,, 
 moreover, is shown in Book ii. 19, a passage which does not 
 appear in my abridgement. Here we learn how Antiphus 
 had been eaten by Polyphemus ; Book ix. is also presupposed 
 in i. 68, which tells of the blinding of the Cyclops by 
 Ulysses. 
 
 We may also confidently say that Books v.—^viii.. were 
 written before i.—iv. and xiii.—xxiv. (roughly), but what the 
 vicissitudes of Books v.—viii. were, and whether or no they 
 drew upon earlier girlish sketches—as without one shred of 
 evidence in support of my opinion I nevertheless incline to 
 
 think-.-these are points which it would be a waste of time to 
 
 even attempt to determine. 
 
 It is in Books v.—viii., and especially in the three last of 
 these books, that the writer is most in her element. Few will 
 differ from Col. Mure, who says of Scheria: — 
 
 There can be little doubt from the distinctive peculiarities with 
 which the poet has invested its inhabitants, and the precision and 
 force displayed in his portrait of their character, that the episode 
 
COLONEL MURE ON THE PH^EACIAN EPISODE. 259 
 
 was intended as a satire on the habits of some real people with 
 whom he was familiar. 
 
 {^Language and Literature of Ancient Greece^ Yol. I., p. 404). 
 
 Speaking on the same page of the obviously humorous 
 sp)irit in which the Phasaciau episode is conceived, Col. Mure 
 says 
 
 This episode is, perhaps, the most brilliant specimen of the 
 poet’s combined talent for the delineation of character and for 
 satirical humour. While there is no portion of his works a right 
 understanding of which is so indispensable to a full estimate of his 
 genius, there is none, perhaps, which has been so little understood. 
 Appeal may be made to the tenor of the most esteemed commen¬ 
 taries, still more, perhaps, to the text of the most popular trans¬ 
 lations, where the gay sarcastic tone of description and dialogue 
 which seasons the whole adventure, is replaced by the tragic 
 solemnity of the gravest scenes of the Iliad. 
 
 People find what they bring. Is it possible that eminent 
 Homeric scholars have found so much seriousness in the more 
 humorous parts of the Odyssey because they brought it there ? 
 To the serious all things are serious. Coleridge, so I learn 
 from the notes at the end of Mr. Gollancz’s Temple Shakes¬ 
 peare^ saw no burlesque in the speeches of the players which 
 are introduced into Hamlet. He says :— 
 
 Tho fancy that a burlesque was intended sinks below criticism ; 
 the lines, as epic narrative, are superb. 
 
 As Mr. Gollancz has given no reference, so neither can I. 
 Mr. Gollancz continues that if Coleridge had read Act ii. 
 Scene i. of Dido and HEneas —a play left unfinished by 
 Marlowe—he would have changed his mind, but I do not 
 believe he would. 
 
 At the same time I take it that the writer was one half 
 laughing and the other half serious, and would sometimes have 
 been hard put to it to know whether she was more in the one 
 vein than in the other. So those who know the cantata 
 Narcissus, advertised at the end of this volume, will admit 
 that there are people who are fully aware that there is no 
 music in this world so great as Handel’s, but who will still try 
 
 2 s 
 
260 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 4o write music in the style of Handel, and when they have 
 done it, hardly know whether they have been more in jest or 
 earnest, though while doing it they fully believed that they 
 were only writing, so far as in them lay, the kind of music 
 which Handel would have written for such words had he lived 
 a hundred years or so later than he did. 
 
 We may note, without, however, being able to deduce any¬ 
 thing from it as regards the dates at which the various parts 
 of the poem were composed, that in the first four Books of the 
 Ody&sey the season appears to be summer rather than winter. 
 In all the other Books (of course excluding those in which 
 Ulysses tells his story) the season is unquestionably winter, or 
 very early spring. It is noticeable also that snow, which 
 appears so repeatedly in the Iliads and of which Homer 
 evidently felt the beauty very strongly, does not appear, and 
 is hardly even mentioned, in the Odyssey. I should perhaps 
 tell some readers that winter is long and severe in the Troad, 
 while on the West coast of Sicily snow is almost unknown, 
 and the winter is even milder than that of Algiers. 
 
 I ought also perhaps hardly to pass over the fact that 
 ambcF, which is never mentioned in the Iliad, appears three 
 times in the Odyssey.'^ This may be mere accident, neverthe¬ 
 less Sicily was an amber-producing country, and indeed still 
 is so ; a large collection of Sicilian amber exists in the museura 
 of Castrogiovanni, the ancient Enna, and I have been assured 
 on good authority, but have not verified my informant’s state¬ 
 ment, that some fine specimens may be seen in the South 
 Kensington Museum. Speaking of Sicilian amber the EncyclO” 
 p-edia Britannica says 
 
 The most beautiful specimens are, perhaps, those which are- 
 found at Catania. They often possess a beautiful play of purple 
 not to be observed in the product of other places. 
 
 I cannot make out whether the first four Books were written 
 before the last twelve or after ; prabably they w^ere written 
 first, but there is something to be said also on the other side. 
 
 * iv. 73, XV. 460, xTiii. 296'. 
 
SICILIAN AMBER. 
 
 261 
 
 I will not attempt to settle this point, and will only add tha t 
 when we bear in mind how both the two main divisions of the 
 Odyssey —the Pheeacian episode with the Return of Ulysses, 
 and the story of Penelope and the suitors, show unmistakeahle 
 signs of having been written at one place, by woman, by woman 
 who is evidently still very young, and that not a trace of 
 difference in versification, style, or idiom can be found between 
 the two divisions, the only conclusion we should come to is 
 that the poem was written by one and the same woman from 
 the first page to the last, I think we may also conclude in 
 the absence of all evidence to the contrary—for assuredly none 
 exists that deserves the name of evidence—that we have the 
 poem to all intents and purposes in the shape which it had 
 assumed in the hands of the authoress. 
 
( 262 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XVL 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 Before I quit my subject^ I sliould perhaps answer a 
 question which the reader has probably long since ashed him¬ 
 self, I mean, how it is conceivable that considerations so 
 obvious as those urged in the foregoing Chapters should have 
 been overlooked by so many capable students for so many 
 hundreds of years, if there were any truth in them. For they 
 lie all of them upon the surface; they are a mere washing in 
 the Jordan and being clean; they require nothing but that a 
 person should read the Odyssey as he would any other book, 
 noting the physical characters described in the Scherian and 
 Ithacan scenes, and looking for them on some West coast of 
 the Mediterranean to the West of Greece. 
 
 The answer is that the considerations which 1 have urged 
 have been overlooked because, for very obvious reasons, it 
 never occurred to any one to look for them. “ Do you suppose, 
 then,” more than one eminent scholar has said to me directly 
 or indirectly, “ that no one has ever read the Odyssey except 
 yourself ? ” I suppose nothing of the kind, and know that it 
 was only possible for the truth when once lost (as it soon would 
 be on the establishment of the Phoenicians at Drepanum) to 
 be rediscovered, when people had become convinced that the 
 Odyssey was not written by the writer of the Iliad. This idea 
 has not yet been generally accepted for more than a hundred 
 years,* if so long, but until it was seized and held hrmly, no 
 one was likely to suspect that the Odyssey could have come 
 from Sicily, much less that it could have been written by a 
 woman, for there is not one line in the Iliad which even hints 
 at the existence of Sicily, or makes the reader suspect the 
 
 * I see that my grandfather, Dr. Butler, of Shrewsbury, accepts it in his Antienf 
 Peography, published in 1813, but I do not know where he got it froni. 
 
WHY TRAPANI ESCAPED NOTICE. 
 
 263 
 
 author to have been a woman, while there are any number of 
 passages which seem absolutely prohibitive of any other 
 opinion than that the writer was a man, and a very strong 
 one. 
 
 Stolberg in the last century, and Colonel Mure in this, had 
 the key in the lock when they visited Trapani, each of them 
 with the full conviction that the Cyclops incident, and the 
 hunting the goats, should be placed on Mt. Eryx and the island 
 of Favognana—but they did not turn it. Professor Freeman, 
 Schliemann, and Sir H. Layard, all of them visited Trapani 
 and its immediate neighbourhood either as students or ex¬ 
 cavators, and failed to see that there was as splendid a prize to 
 be unburied there without pick and shovel, outlay, or trouble of 
 any kind, as those of Mneveh, Mycene, and Hissarlik—and 
 why ? Because they were still hampered by the long association 
 of the Iliad and Odyssey as the work of the same person. 
 Knowing that the Iliad could hardly have been written else¬ 
 where than in the Northern half of the West coast of Asia 
 Minor, it would never occur to them to look for the Odyssey in 
 a spot so remote as Trapani. They probably held it to be the 
 work of some prehistoric Herodotus, who would go on from 
 scene to scene without staying longer than he could help in 
 any one place, instead of feeling sure, as I believe they should 
 have done, that it was the work of one who was little likely to 
 have travelled more than a very few miles from her own home. 
 Moreover, Admiralty charts are things of comparatively recent 
 date, and I do not think any one would have been likely to 
 have run the Odyssey to ground without their help. 
 
 But however this may be, I do not doubt that the habit of 
 ascribing the Odyssey to Homer has been the main reason of 
 the failure to see the obvious in connection with it. Surely it 
 is time our eminent Iliadic and Odyssean scholars left off 
 misleading themselves and other people by including the 
 Odyssey in their “Introductions” to the work of “Homer.” 
 It was permissible to do this till within recent years ; anything 
 else, indeed, would have been pedantic, but what would have 
 been pedantic a hundred years ago, is slovenly and unscholarly 
 now. 
 
264 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 Turning from her commentators to the authoress herself, I 
 am tempted to wonder whether she would be more pleased or 
 angry could she know that she had been so long mistaken for a 
 man—and that man Homer. It would afford her an excellent 
 opportunity for laughing at the dullness of man. Angry, 
 however, as she would no doubt be, she could hardly at the 
 same time help being flattered, and would perhaps console 
 herself by reflecting that poets as great as she was are bound 
 to pay the penalty of greatness in being misunderstood. 
 
 Horace tells us that mediocrity in a poet is forbidden alike 
 by gods, men, and publishers, but, whether forbidden or no, 
 there are a good many mediocre poets who are doing fairly 
 well. So far as I can see, indeed, gods, men, and more 
 particularly publishers, will tolerate nothing in a poet except 
 mediocrity, and if a true poet by some rare accident slips in 
 among the others, it is because gods and publisher’s readers 
 did not find him out until it was too late to stop him. Horace 
 must have known perfectly well that he was talking nonsense. 
 
 And after all it is well that things are as they are; for the 
 mediocre poet, though he may hang about for many years, 
 does in the end die, or at any rate become such a mere literary 
 Struldbrug as to give plain people no trouble, whereas the 
 true poet will possess himself of us, and live on in us whether 
 we will.or no, and unless the numbers of such people were 
 severely kept in check they would clog the wheels of the world. 
 Half a dozen first-class poets in prose or verse are as many as 
 the world can carry in any comfort; twenty Shakspeares, 
 twenty Homers, twenty Haiisicaas would make literature im¬ 
 possible, yet we may be sure that every country in every 
 century could yield two or three first-class writers, if genius 
 were to be known at once and fostered by those who alone 
 know how to foster it. Genius is an offence ? like all other 
 offences it must needs come, but woe to that man or woman 
 through whom it comes, for he or she must pass through the 
 Scylla and Charybdis of being either torn in pieces on the one 
 hand, or so misunderstood on the other as to make the slipping 
 through with life in virtue of such misrepresentation more 
 mortifying than death itself. 
 
MEDIOCRIBTIS ESSE POETIS. 
 
 265 
 
 Do wliat we may we cannot help it. Dead mind like dead 
 body must, after a decent interval, be buried out of onr sight 
 if living mind is to have fair play, and it might perhaps not 
 be a bad thing if onr great educational establishments had 
 more of the crematorinm and less of the catacomb about them 
 than they have at present. Onr notions of intellectual sanita¬ 
 tion are deplorably imperfect, and unless the living become 
 more jealous of letting dead mind remain nnconsnmed in their 
 system, a fit of intellectual gout must ere long supervene, 
 which, if not fatal, will still be excruciatingly painful. Since, 
 therefore, there are such insuperable difficulties in the way of 
 eliminating geniuses when we have once absorbed them, and 
 since also, do what we may, we can no more detect the one 
 genius who may be born among a multitude of good average 
 children, than Herod could detect the King of the Jews 
 among the babes of Bethlehem, we have no course but to do 
 much as Herod did, and lay violent hands upon all young 
 people till we have reduced every single one of them to such 
 mediocrity as may be trusted to take itself off sooner or later. 
 To this end we have established schools and schoolmen; nor is 
 it easy to see how we could more effectually foster that self- 
 sufficiency which does so much towards helping us through 
 the world, and yet repress any exuberance of originality or 
 independence of thought which may be prejudicial to its 
 possessor during his own life, and burdensome to posterity 
 when he is dead and gone. 
 
 Obviously wise, however, and necessary as our present 
 system is, we nevertheless grumble at it. We would have any 
 number of first-class geniuses in art literature and music, and 
 yet have plenty of elbow room for ourselves. Our children 
 too; they cannot show too many signs of genius, but at the 
 same time we blame them if they do not get on in the world 
 and make money as genius next to never does. Like the 
 authoress of the Odyssey we are always wanting to have things 
 both ways ; we would have others be forgotten, and yet not be 
 forgotten ourselves ; when we have shuflfied off this mortal coil, 
 we would fain shufflle on another that shall be at once less coil 
 and less mortal, in the good thoughts of coming generations. 
 
266 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 but if this desire is so universal as to be called natural, it is 
 one which the best and sanest of us will fight against rather 
 than encourage; such people will do their work as well and 
 cheerfully as they can, and make room for others with as little 
 fuss as possible when they have had their day. 
 
 If, however, any man resents the common course of nature 
 and sets himself to looking upon himself and cursing his fate 
 that he was not born to be of the number of them that enter 
 into life eternal even in this world, let him console himself by 
 reflecting that until he is long dead, there is no certain knowing 
 whether he is in life or no, and also that though he prove to 
 be an immortal after all, he cannot escape the treatment which 
 he is the more sure to meet with according as he is the more 
 immortal—let alone the untold misery which his works will 
 inflict upon young people. 
 
 If ever a great classic could have been deterred from writing 
 by a knowledge of how posterity would treat her, the writer of 
 the Odyssey should have been so, for never has poem more 
 easy to understand failed more completely of being understood. 
 If she was as lovely as I should like to think her, was ever 
 sleeping beauty hidden behind a more impenetrable hedge of 
 scholasticism ? How could it be otherwise ? The Odyssey^ 
 like the Iliad^ has been a school book for nearly 3,000 years, 
 and what more cruel revenge could dullness take on genius ? 
 What has the erudition of the last 2,500 years done for the 
 Iliad, and the Odyssey but to emend the letter in small things 
 and to obscure the spirit in great ones ? 
 
 There was indeed, as I said in my opening Chapter, a band 
 of scholars a century or two before the birth of Christ who 
 refused to see the Iliad and Odyssey as the work of the same 
 person, but erudition snubbed them and snuffed them out so 
 effectually that for some 2,000 years they were held to have been 
 finally refuted. Can there be any more scathing satire on the 
 value of scholastic criticism ? It seems as though Minerva 
 had shed the same darkness over both the poems that she shed 
 over Ulysses, that they might go in and out among eminent 
 Homeric scholars from generation to generation, and none 
 should see them. 
 
ERUDITION AND THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 267 
 
 The world does indeed know little of its greatest men and 
 women, and bitterly has it been reproached for its want of 
 penetration, but there are always two sides, and it should be 
 remembered that its greatest men and women commonly know 
 very little of the world in its more conventional aspects. They 
 are continually flying in the face of all that we expect of 
 greatness, and they never tell us what they are; they do not 
 even think that they are great; if they do we may be sure that 
 they are mistaken ; how then can we be expected to appreciate 
 people correctly till we have had plenty of time to think them 
 over ? 
 
 And when we have thought them over, how little have our 
 canons of criticism to do with the verdict which we in the end 
 arrive at. Look at the Odyssey. Here is a poem in which 
 the hero and heroine have been already married many years 
 before it opens ; from the first page to the last there is no 
 young couple in love with one another, there is in fact nothing 
 amatory in the poem, for though the suitors are supposed to 
 be madly in love with Penelope, they never say or do anything 
 that carries conviction as to their being so. We accept the 
 fact, as we do the sagacity of Ulysses, because we are told 
 it, not because we see it. The interest of the ]3oem ostensibly 
 turns mainly on the revenge taken by a bald middle-aged 
 gentleman, whose little remaining hair is red, on a number 
 of young men who have been eating him out of house and 
 home, while courting his supposed widow. 
 
 Moreover, this subject, so initially faulty, is treated with 
 a carelessness in respect of consistency and plausibility, an 
 ignorance of commonly known details, and a disregard of 
 ordinary canons which it would not be easy to surpass, and 
 yet, such is the irony of art that it is not too much to say 
 that there is only one poem which can be decisively placed 
 above it. If the Odyssey enforces one artistic truth more 
 than another, it is that living permanent work in literature 
 (and the same holds good for art and music) can only be done 
 by those who are either above, or below, conscious reference to 
 any rules or canons whatsoever—and in spite of Shakespeare, 
 Handel, and Rembrandt, I should ^y that on the whole it is 
 
268 
 
 THE AUTHOEESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 more blessed to be below than above. For after all it is not 
 the outward and visible signs of what we read, see, or hear, 
 in any work, that bring us to its feet in prostration of grati¬ 
 tude and aifection; what really stirs us is the communion with 
 the still living mind of the man or woman to whom we owe 
 it, and the conviction that that mind is as we would have our 
 own to be. All else is mere clothes and grammar. 
 
 As regards the mind of the writer of the Odyssey there is 
 nothing in her work which impresses me more profoundly than 
 the undercurrent of melancholy which I feel throughout it. 
 I do not mean that the writer was always, or indeed generally, 
 unhappy; she was often, at any rate let us hope so, supremely 
 happy ; nevertheless there is throughout her work a sense as 
 though the world for all its joyousness was nevertheless out of 
 joint—an inarticulate indefinable half ]3athos, half baffled fury, 
 which even when lost sight of for a time soon re-asserts itself. 
 If the Odyssey was not written without laughter, so neither 
 was it without tears. Now that I know the writer to have 
 been a woman, I am ashamed of myself for not having been 
 guided to my conclusion by the exquisitely subtle sense of 
 weakness as well as of strength that pervades the poem, rather 
 than by the considerations that actually guided me. 
 
 The only approach to argument which I have seen brought 
 forward to show that the Odyssey must have been written by 
 a man, consists in maintaining that no woman could have 
 written the scene in which Ulysses kills the suitors. I cannot 
 see this ; to me it seems rather that no man could have brought 
 himself to disregard probability with so little compunction; 
 moreover a woman can kill a man on paper as well as a man 
 can, and with the exception of the delightful episode in which 
 Ulysses spares the lives of Phemius and Medon, the scene, I 
 confess, appears to me to be the most mechanical and least 
 satisfactory in the whole poem. The real obstacle to a general 
 belief that the Odyssey was written by a woman is not anything 
 that can be found in the poem, but lies, as I have already said, 
 in the long prevalence of an opinion that it was written by the 
 same person as the Iliad was. The age and respectability of 
 this opinion, even though we have at length discarded it, will 
 
STKENGTH PERFECTED IN WEAKNESS. 
 
 269 
 
 not allow ns to go beyond ascribing tbe Ochjssej/ to another 
 man—we cannot jump all at once to the view that it was not 
 by a man at all. A certain invincible scholasticism prevents 
 ns from being able to see what we should see at once if we 
 would only read the poem slowly and without considering 
 anything that critics have said concerning it. 
 
 This, however, is not an easy thing to do. I know very 
 well that I should never have succeeded in doing it if I had 
 not passed some five-and-thirty rebellions years during which 
 I never gave the Odyssey so mnch as a thought. The poem is 
 so angnst: it is hallowed by the veneration of so many ages ; 
 it is like my frontispiece, so mysterious, so imperfect, and yet 
 so divinely beyond all perfection ; it has been so long associated 
 with the epic poem which stands supreme—for if the Odyssey 
 be the Monte Rosa of literature, the Iliad must, I suppose, for 
 ever remain as the Mont Blanc; who can lightly vivisect a work 
 of such inetfable prestige as though it were an overlooked 
 'parvenu book picked np for a few pence at a second hand book 
 stall ? Lightly, no, bnt inexorably, yes, if its natural health 
 and beauty are to be restored by doing so. 
 
 One of our most accomplished living scholars chided with me 
 in this sense a vear or two ago. He said I was ruthless. “ I 
 confess,” he said, “ I do not give much heed to the details on 
 which you lay so much stress : I read the poem not to theorise 
 about it, but to revel in its amazing beauty.” 
 
 It would shock me to think that I had done anything to 
 impair the sense of that beauty which I trust I share in even 
 measure with himself, but surely if the Odyssey has charmed 
 us as a man’s work, its charm and wonder are infinitely 
 increased when we see it as a woman’s. Still more must it 
 charm us when we find the writer to be an old friend, and see 
 no inconsiderable part of her work as a reflection of her own 
 surroundings. 
 
 Have we, then, a right in sober seriousness so to find her ? 
 I have shown that in the earliest known ages of Greek literature 
 poetesses abounded, and gained a high reputation. I have 
 shown that by universal consent the domestic and female 
 interest in the Odyssey predominates greatly over the male. 
 
270 
 
 THE AUTHORESS OF THE ODYSSEY. 
 
 I have shown that it was all written in one place, and if so — 
 even were there no further reasons for thinking so—presumably 
 by one hand : I have shown that the writer was extremely 
 jealous for the honour of woman, so much so as to be daunted 
 by no impossibilities when trying to get rid of a story that she 
 held to be an insult to her sex. These things being so, is it 
 too much to ask the reader to believe that the poem was not 
 written, as Bentley held, by a man for women, but for both 
 men and women, by one who was herself a woman ? 
 
 And now as I take leave of the reader, I would say that if 
 when I began this work I was oppressed with a sense of the 
 hopelessness of getting Homeric scholars to take it seriously 
 and consider it, I am even more oppressed and dismayed when 
 I turn over its pages and see how certain they are to displease 
 many whom I would far rather conciliate than offend. What 
 can it matter to me where the Odyssey was written, or whether 
 it was written by a man or a woman ? From the bottom of 
 my heart I can say truly that I do not care about the way in 
 which these points are decided, but I do care, and very greatly, 
 about knowing which way they are decided by sensible people 
 who have considered what I have urged in this book. I believe 
 I have settled both points sufficiently, but come what may I 
 know that my case in respect of them is amply strong enough 
 to justify me in having stated it. And so I leave it. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Nothing will be Indexed which can be found readily by referring 
 
 to the Table of Contents. 
 
 Acitrezza, the island of, 43 
 .ffiolian-Ionic dialect of the Iliad and 
 Odyssey, 219 
 
 .®olus, his island did not move about, 183 
 Agamemnon, killed in a covered cloister, 
 18 
 
 Alcinous, and Arete, their family his¬ 
 tory, 34, 35; proposes that Ulysses 
 should stay and many Nausicaa, 37; 
 promises to give Ulysses a gold cup, 
 but never gives it, nor yet his talent of 
 gold, 40; tells the Phseacians of Nep¬ 
 tune’s threat, 41, 58 ; Alcinous, Ulysses, 
 Menelaus and Nestor, all drawn from 
 the same person, 115 
 Amber, Sicilian. 260 
 Amphinomus, Ulysses rebukes, 76 
 Anticlea, tradition that she hanged her¬ 
 self, 65 ; in Hades, on the situation, 
 132, 133 
 
 Antinous, never really wanted to marry 
 Penelope, 91; his death throes and the 
 good meat that was spoiled, 154 
 Argenteria, the, near Trapani, 230 
 Argus, Ulysses and, 151 
 Aristarchus, made most use of the Mar¬ 
 seilles edition of Iliad and Odyssey, 219 
 Armour, removal of the, 155 
 Art, only interesting in so far as it reveals 
 an artist, 6 ; the canons of, it is better 
 to be below than above, 267 
 Arthurian legends, the, and Tennyson, 
 123 
 
 Asinelli, the islet, 189 
 Athenaeum, the author’s two letters to the, 
 V., vi. 
 
 Atreus, treasury of, 193 
 Autolycus, an accomplished thief and 
 perjurer, 81 
 
 Axe, Calypso’s, had a handle, 10 
 Axes, the, why did not the suitors snatch 
 them up ? 153, 154 
 
 Balaclava, said to resemble Trapani, 5 
 Bayeux tapestry, 11, 13 
 Bear, the great, Ulysses told to steer by 
 the, 29, 181, 182, 187, 197 
 Bentley, saying the Odyssey was written 
 for women, 4 ; not perceiving that the 
 Odyssey is of later date than the Iliad, 5 
 Biaggini, the late E., v., 195 
 
 Blind, how commentators came to think 
 that Homer was, 7 
 Brigands, modern, and Cyclopes, 193 
 Brooch, the, of Ulysses, 80, 227 
 Bunyan, 110, 111 
 
 Butcher and Lang, Messrs., their transla¬ 
 tion of the Odyssey, 7 
 Buttmann, on the Wandering Cliffs, 196 
 
 Calypso kept no man-servant, 107; her 
 sailing directions to Ulysses, 181, 182, 
 187, 197 
 
 Catalogues, the Iliadic known to the 
 writer of the Odyssey, 174, 237 
 Cave, forms of the word, much more com¬ 
 mon in Odyssey than Iliad, 194 
 Caves, the two near the place where 
 Ulysses landed in Ithaca, 165-170 
 Cave-dwellers near Trapani, 193, 194 
 Cefalh, megalithic remains at, 185 ; called 
 Portazza, 185; relays of fresh milk at, 
 186 
 
 Charybdis and the Galofaro, 197 
 Chorizontes, the, 5, 266 
 Circe, kept no man-servant, 107 ; as good 
 a prophet as Teiresias, 149; her house 
 and Eumseus’s pig-farm, 195 
 Clergyman, doctor, carpenter, bard, 152 
 Clytemnestra, naturally of a good dispo¬ 
 sition, 24, 116 
 
 Coleridge saw no burlesque in the speeches 
 of the players in Hamlet, 259 
 Collesano, Byzantine (?) remains at, 185 
 Conturrano and his development since 
 the Odyssey, 192 
 
 Corfu, anciently called Drepane and then 
 Scheria, 225, 226 
 
 Cyclopes, and Lsestrygonians, one race, 
 184; the, had two eyes, 191; still 
 near neighbours of the Phmacians, 190 ; 
 and modern Brigands, as per Mr. 
 Stigand’s report in the Times, 193 
 Cyclops means round-faced as fxyXcoiJ/, 
 apple-faced, 190; Parmenides called 
 the moon Cyclops, 190 
 
 Darts, the people whom he meets in 
 another world, 112 ; e unfalso idolo, 113 
 Darknesses, the two most notable of the 
 I Odyssey, 188, 189, 198 
 
272 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Defoe, sends Eobinson Crusoe a man, not 
 a woman, 114 
 
 Didyme, and the island of the Sirens, 195, 
 196 
 
 Disc, Ulysses throws a, 39, 146 
 Dobree and ^uiKtcov, 223 
 Doerpfeld, Dr., and the Iliadic wall, 217, 
 218 
 
 Dolius, and Ulysses, in the house of 
 Laertes, 102, 156 
 
 Door, bedroom at Trapani fastened in the 
 Odj'’sseaa manner, 141 
 Drepane and Drepanum, 225 
 Dulichium, the most important of the 
 Odyssean islands, 176, 177 
 
 Elfrxor, and Ulysses in Hades,- 110; 
 
 his strange fall, 195 
 Elymi, Thucydides on the, 223 
 Epic cycle, the Ti'ojan books of the, known 
 to the writer of the Odyssey, 249, 250 
 Eryx the Sican city on the top of, not 
 abandoned, 221 
 
 Eteoneus, only a char-butler, 140 
 Ethiopians, the, known as stretching all 
 across Africa, 18 
 
 Eubcea, assumed by Alcinous to be more 
 distant from Scheria than Ithaca, 37 
 Eumseus, a male writer would have killed 
 him, 156; a native of Syracuse, 210- 
 212 ; perhaps a Greek, 214 
 Eurybates, why hunched in the shoulders, 
 235, 236 
 
 Euryclea, becomes Eurynome, 74, 76, 79 ; 
 the price paid for her, a I’ejoinder to the 
 Iliad, 143; and Eurynome the same 
 person, 150, 151 
 
 Eurymachus, his death throes, and the 
 good meat that was spoiled, 154 
 Eurymedoii, his overthrow, 3-1, 219, 220 
 Eurynome, see Euryclea 
 Ewes, and c^nrbs, the present practice in 
 Sicily, 148 
 
 EAVOGisrANA, derived from Favonius, 180 ; 
 why Ulysses was not allowed to see, 
 197, 198 
 
 Fielding, his journey to the next world, 
 113; on Homer, 114 
 
 Fifths and Octaves, consecutive, forbid¬ 
 den, 119 
 
 Four main lines of the argument, 163 
 Freeman, Prof., his map of the West 
 coast of Sicily, 176; visited Trapani, 263 
 
 Geese, Penelope’s dream about the, 82 
 Genius, an offence, &c., 264; to be 
 stamped out while young, 265 
 Giacalone-Patti, Prof., 
 
 Gladstone, the Right Hon. W. E., bis 
 canons as regards the text of Iliad and 
 Odyssey, viii.; the “ systematic and 
 comprehensive” study of Homer still 
 young, 5, 6 ; contrasts the Iliad and 
 Odyssey, 106; on Clytemnestra, 117; 
 on the time when Homer wrote, 216 
 
 Grammerton and Shrewsbury, 160 
 
 Greatheart, Mr., 109 
 
 Grotta del Toro, the, 167-170 
 
 Hades, the writer’s attitude towards 
 women, in, 109-112 
 
 Harbour, Rheithron, used five times in 
 the Odyssey, 167 ; of Trapani, boatmen 
 plying for hire, 172 
 
 Hawk, tearing its prey, while still on the 
 wing, 9, 66 
 
 Helen, coming down to dinner at the 
 house of Menelaus, 25 ; mixes Nepenthe 
 in the wine, 26, 144; outside the 
 wooden house, 144 ; her penitence for 
 the wrong that Venus had done her, 
 144 ; her present of a bridal dress to 
 Telemachus, 150 
 
 Heraclidm^, return of, undateable, 215 
 Hermione, her marriage found more in¬ 
 teresting than that of Megapenthes, 
 136 ; her marriage interpolated, 137 
 Hesiod, records a time when iron was not 
 known, 193 
 
 Homer, his infinite subtlety, 216 ; the 
 authoress of the Odyssey was angry 
 with him, 247; why the writer of the 
 Odyssey let him so severely alone, 250, 
 257 ; protest against “Introductions to 
 Homer,” which include the Odyssey, 263 
 Horace, and viediocribus esse poetis, 264 
 Horse the Trojan, story of the, shows 
 that the Greeks did not know how 
 Troy fell, 217 
 
 Hotel, man no use' in a, 107 
 House of Ulysses, the, 16, 17, 18 
 Hypereia, near the Cyclopes, 31; pro¬ 
 bable remains of its wall, 190; not 
 completely abandoned, 221 
 
 Iacense.s, the, 231 
 
 lakin, the coin, and the British Museum 
 catalogue of Sicilian coins, 227, 228 
 lafco?, means Ionian, 213 
 Iliad, catalogues of the, 173; date of, 
 215-219 ; the, refers to no event known 
 to have been later than B.O. 1100, 218 
 Ingroia, Cav. Prof, of Calatafimi, v. 
 Invention, not the authoress’s strong 
 point, 202-204 
 
 Ionian Settlements on East Sicilian 
 shores, 213 
 Irus, and Iris, 116 
 Ismarus, and its wine, 180 
 Italia, and QHnotria, 184 
 Ithaca, drawn from Trapani and its 
 neighbourhood, 165 ; drawn from the 
 island of Marettimo as well as from 
 Trapani, 172; “all highest up in the 
 sea,” sketch of, 178 
 
 Jebb, Prof., the 1892 edition of his 
 Introduction to Homer, vi., vii.; his In¬ 
 troduction to Homer, 3 ; his quotation 
 from Bentley, 4; on Bentley’s not 
 seeing that the Odyssey was of later 
 
INDEX. 
 
 273 
 
 date than the lliad;^ 5 ; on the house 
 of Ulysses, 15, 16 ; and the date of the 
 Odyssey, 210; mentioned, 23S, 234, 
 249, 252 
 
 Jews, their prayers, for men and for 
 women, 114 
 
 Jones, H, Festing, vii ,; his, and the 
 author’s, joint oratorio Ulysses, 6 j 
 mentioned, 169, 186, 193 
 
 Kirchhof, on the first 87 lines of Od. i., 
 252 
 
 Laertes, why he left off calling on 
 Penelope and coming to town, 131; 
 not poor, 132 
 
 Lgestrygonians, derivation of the word, 
 and lastricare, 184; and Cyclopes one 
 race, 184; their relays of fresh milk, 
 184 
 
 Lambs, living on two pulls a day at a 
 milked ewe, 9, 44; and ewes—the 
 present practice, 148 
 
 Lang, Mr, Andrew, on the house of 
 Ulysses, 15, 16 
 
 Latin names, the use of for Greek gods 
 and heroes defended, ix., x., xi. 
 
 Layard, Sir H., visited Trapani, 263 
 
 List of points necessarj for the identi¬ 
 fication of Scheria, 158, 159 
 
 Lubbock, Sir John, his hundred books, 
 118 
 
 Lucian, the most ungallant of all, 113 
 
 Magistrate, a hungry, Ulysses com¬ 
 pared to, 56, 150 
 
 Malconsiglio, legends concerning, 165 
 Malta, not Calypso’s island, 181, 187 
 Man, and woman, never fully understand 
 one another, 105; can caricature each 
 other, but not draw, 106 
 Marettimo, the island, had a wall all 
 round it, 194 
 
 Marseilles, the civic edition of Iliad and 
 Odyssey used most largely by Aristar¬ 
 chus, 219 
 
 Mediocribus esse poetis, &c., 264 
 Megalithicism, the two kinds of, 193 
 Megapentlies, only married because his 
 sister was, 138 
 
 Melanthins and the store-room, 154, 155 
 Menelaus, Ulysses, Alcinous, and Nestor, 
 all from the same person, 115; the 
 collapse of his splendour in Book xv., 
 139; he used to sell wine, 139; his frank 
 bourgeoisie, 139; his fussiness, 139; why 
 made to come back on the day of ^gis- 
 thus’s funeral feast, 236 
 Mentor, his name coined from Nestor’s, 
 235 
 
 Milk rarely to be had fresh except in the 
 morning in Sicil}^ and S. Italy, 186 
 Milking ewes, what Sicilian shepherds 
 how do, 148 
 
 Minerva, not an easy person to recognise, 
 and had deserted Ulysses for a long 
 time, 59, 257, 258; Ulysses upbraids 
 her for not telling Telemachus about 
 his return, 60; her opinion of Penelope, 
 134, 135; her singular arrangements 
 for Telemachus, 140; Ulysses remon¬ 
 strates with her, 141; sending Telema¬ 
 chus a West wind to take him from 
 Ithaca to Pylos, 199 ; her total absence 
 in Books ix.-xii. apologised for, 257, 258 
 Mixing-bowl, the, in an angle of the 
 cloisters, 88; Phemius lays his lyre 
 down near the, and near the approach 
 to the trap-door, 94 
 Motya, 177 
 
 Mure, Colonel, on the Phgeacian episode, 
 7,^258 ; visited Trapani, 
 
 Narcissus, a cantata by H. Festing 
 Jones, Esq., and the author, 259 
 Nausicaa, her dream, and going’ to the 
 wash, 31, 32 ; her meeting with Ulys¬ 
 ses, 32-34 ; the ill-natured gossip of her 
 fellow townspeople, 33 ; her farewell to 
 Ulysses, 41; the most probable author¬ 
 ess, 206-208 
 
 Nepenthe, the order in which its virtues 
 are recorded, 144 
 
 Neptune, turns the Phgeacian ship into 
 stone, 58 
 
 Nestor, Alcinous, Menelaus, and Ulysses, 
 all drawn from the same person, 115 
 
 Occasional notes, to show that the 
 writer is a woman, 142-157 
 Octaves consecutive, 119, 204 
 Odyssey, the examples of feminine mis¬ 
 takes, 9; refers to nothing of later date 
 than B.C. 1100, 218 
 
 oparodvpa, the, 17, 92; the way towards 
 was in the corner of the loister, near 
 the mixing-bowl, 94 
 OEnotria, and Italia, 184 
 Olympia, apparently unknown to the 
 writer, 218 
 
 Orsi, Dr., mentioned, 185, 186 ; and pre- 
 Corinthian cemeteries near Syracuse, 
 213 
 
 Ortygia, and Syra, 65, 211 
 
 Pagoto, Signor Giuseppe, 148 
 Pantellaria, rightly placed as regards 
 Scheria, 187 ; still a prison-island, 203 
 Parmenides, calls the moon Cyclops, 190 
 Penelope, her web, 21, 129; gets presents 
 out of the suitors, 76 ; scandalous ver- 
 of her conduct in ancient writers, 125 ; 
 sions she protests too much, 126 ; did 
 she ever try snubbing or boring, 130 ; 
 Minerva’s opinion of her, 134, 135; 
 and the upset bath, 152; gloating oyer 
 the luxury of woe, 152 ; not a satis¬ 
 factory guardian of the estate, 153; 
 tells her story to Ulysses before 
 Ulysses tells his to her, 157 
 
274 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Perseus, does not rescue Andromeda, 109 
 Phseacian women, their skill in weaving, 
 and general intelligence, 35 
 Phmacians, the, making drink offerings 
 to Mercury (covert satire) 36 ; Ulysses’ 
 farewell to the, 108; a thin disguise 
 for Phocasans, 219; used 50-oared 
 vessels like the Phocaeans, 220 
 Phemius, begs for mercy, 94 
 Phocae and Phocaeans, 218 
 Phocaea, an Ionian city surrounded by 
 .Slolians, 219 
 
 Phocaeans, the, used 50-oared vessels, 220 j 
 and Phocians, 4, 222, 223 
 Phoenician quarrymen’s marks on walls 
 of Eryx, 192 
 
 Phoenicians, the, distrusted, but not much 
 known about Phoenicia, 218 
 Piacus, 228 
 
 Pic-nic, a, to Polyphemus’s cave, 147,148 
 Pisistratus, accompanies Telemachus to 
 Sparta, 24; does not like crying during 
 dinner, 25; gets no present, 150 
 Platt, Mr. Arthur, on the house of 
 Ulysses, 15, 16 
 
 Poetesses, early Greek, abundant, 11, 12 
 Policeman, identifying prisoner, 160 
 Polyphemus, and his cave, drawn from 
 life, 147, 148; his system of milking, 
 148; his cave still called la grotta di 
 Polifemo, 188; the rocks he threw, 
 Asinelli and Eormiche, 189; had two 
 eyes, 191: and Conturrdno, 191, 192 
 Portazza, and Telepylus, 185 
 
 Quarry, called Dacinoi, 231 
 
 Raft, Ulysses’, 29 
 Raven rock, the, 165,171 
 Rheithron, the harbour, used five times 
 in Odyssey, 167 
 
 Rudder, the poetess’s ideas about a, 9, 10 
 “ Ruler,” a two foot, betraying a writer 
 as a woman, 10 
 
 Salt works of S. Cusumano, 166 
 Sappho, and other early Greek poetesses, 
 11 , 12 
 
 Sardinian smile, a, 203 
 Scheria, means Jutland, 31; and Drepane, 
 ancient names of Corfu, 225, 226 
 Schliemann, visited Trapani, 263 
 Seals, the intolerable smell of, 144; or 
 PhocEe, malicious allusion to Phocseans, 
 220 
 
 Segesta, later than the Odyssey, 185 
 Selborne, Lord, his reminiscences, 172 
 Servants, like being told to eat and drink, 
 65 
 
 Shelley, on the sweetness of the Odyssey, 
 106 
 
 Shield of Achilles, the, its genuineness 
 defended, 243-246 
 
 Shipwreck, and loss of Ulysses’ ship, 66 
 Shirt, a clean, Alcinous’ and his sons’ 
 views concerning, 145 
 
 Shrewsbury, and Grammerton, 160 
 Sicels, in the Odyssey, 214-215 
 EiKavLt]^, not corrupted into, EikeXLj?, 
 214 
 
 Sirens, the, and Didyme, 195, 196 
 Sleep, the, of Ulysses, 173, 253, 254 
 Smyth, Admiral, on the iEolian islands 
 and on Charybdis, 196, 197 
 Snow, frequent in the Iliad, but hardly 
 even named in the Odyssey, 260 
 Spadaro, Prof., of Marettimo, 194 
 Sugameli, Signor, v., 166, 169, 230, 231 
 Suitors, the, how many from each island, 
 68 ; they are also the people who were 
 sponging on Alcinous, 123; they cannot 
 be perfect lovers and perfect spongers 
 at the same time, 127 ; their version of 
 Penelope’s conduct, 128, 129 
 Sun, turnings of the, 211, 212 
 Sun-god, tlie, leaving his sheep and 
 cattle in charge of two nymphs, 149 
 Swallow, Ulysses bowstring sings like a 
 90 ; Minerva flies out to the rafters 
 like a, 154 
 
 Syracuse, pre-Corinthian, 211, 212 
 
 Tarragona, the walls of, 222 
 Taygetus range, still roadless, 198 
 Tedesco, Signor, of Marettimo, 194 
 Telegony, the, and the Odyssey, 125 
 Telemachus, lectured by Minerva, 120 ; 
 and by Penelope, 121; the two great 
 evils that have fallen on his house, 122; 
 only twelve years old when Ulysses 
 went to Hades, 133 ; his alarm about 
 his property, 135, 136; did not tip 
 Eteoneus, 150 
 
 Telepylus, a fictitious name, 184 
 Temesa, copper mines of, 19 ; its people 
 did not speak Greek, 214 
 Tennyson, and the Arthurian legends, 123 
 Theoclymenus sees the doom that over¬ 
 hangs the suitors and leaves the house, 
 86; his presence in the poem, strange, 
 201 
 
 Thersites, and Eurybates, 235, 236 
 Tholus, the, 17, 95, 98 
 Thucydides, and “ Phocians of those from 
 Troy,” 4, 5, 222, 223; on the Cyclopes 
 and liEestrygonians, 184 ; substantially 
 in accord with the writer of the Odyssey^ 
 221; biassed in favour of the Corfu 
 Drepane rather than the Sicilian Dre- 
 panum, 226 
 
 Tiresias, his prophecy, and waiming about 
 the cattle of the Sun, 49, 50, 254, 255, 
 256 
 
 Toro, grotta del, 167-170 
 Trapdoor, the, 92 ; the way towards was 
 in the corner of the cloisters near the 
 mixing bowl, 94 
 
 Trapani, what any rival site has got to 
 show before claiming much considera¬ 
 tion, 162 
 
 Trapani and Hlgadean islands from Mt. 
 Eryx, sketch of, 178 
 
INDEXi 
 
 275 
 
 Troy, date of its real or supposed fall, 
 215-218 
 
 “Ulysses,” H. Testing Jones’s and S. 
 Butler’s oratorio, 6 
 
 Ulysses, fastens his chest with a knot 
 that Circe had taught him, 258; his 
 deep sleep, 173, 253, 254; upbraids 
 Minerva for not telling Telemachus 
 about his impending return, 60, 141; 
 and Argus, 72, 151; rebukes Amphino- 
 mus, 76; rebukes Eurymachus, 78; he 
 and Telemachus remove the armour, 
 79, 156; his brooch, 80, 227; having 
 his feet washed by Euryclea, 81, 152; 
 compared to a paunch cooking before a 
 fire, 83, 153 ; his bedroom, surmise that 
 the maids were hanged all round it, 98 ; 
 interview with Laertes in the garden, 
 101, 102 ; eating with Dolius, 102, 155 ; 
 his farewell speeches to the Phseacians, 
 and to Queen Arete, 108; his main 
 grievance a money one, 109; he, Alci- 
 nous, Menelaus and Nestor, all drawn 
 from the same person, 115; always 
 thankless, 150; why not allowed to see 
 either Favognana or the Scherian coast, 
 188, 197, 198; house of, and that of 
 Alcinous, 205, 206 
 
 Unconscious cerebration, examples of, 
 236, 237, 238, 239 
 
 Ustica, as the island of ^olus, 183 
 
 Vaulted room, the, 17, 95, 98 
 
 Virgil, and ^neas in Hades, 113 ; gives 
 the Cyclopes only one eye, 191; and 
 Drepanum, 224 
 
 Wall, the Iliadic, date of, 217, 218 
 
 Wandering cliffs, the, 53, 54, 55, 196 
 
 Wolf, his theory baseless and mischievous 
 2, 3 
 
 Woman and man, never fully understand 
 one another, 105; can caricature each 
 other, but not draw, 106 
 
 Women, single, will not have a man in 
 the house if they can help it, 107 ; in 
 Hades, the writer’s attitude towards, 
 110, 111; treatment of the guilty^, in 
 the house of Ulysses, 117-119 
 
 World, its greatest men know little of 
 the, 267 
 
 York, the Duke of, and his marriage, 
 108 
 
 Young people, apt to be thoughtless, 37, 
 146 
 
 ZiMMERN, Miss Helen, v. 
 
 Zummari, la Caletta dei, 195 
 
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 BADMINTON LIBRARY (THE)- - 
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 MISCELLANEOUS THEOLOGICAL 
 
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 POETRY AND THE DRAMA - - 18 
 
 POLITICAL ECONOMY AND ECO¬ 
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 POPULAR SCIENCE - - - - 24 
 
 SILVER LIBRARY (THE) - - 27 
 
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 TRAVEL AND ADVENTURE, THE 
 COLONIES, &c. . - . - 8 
 
 VETERINARY MEDICINE, &c. - 10 
 
 WORKS OF REFERENCE- - - 25 
 
 PAGE 
 
 10 
 
 7 
 
 26 
 18 
 28 
 
 17 
 
 21 
 12 
 
 3 
 
 INDEX OF AUTHORS AND EDITORS. 
 
 Abbott (Evelyn) 
 
 Page 
 3, 18 
 
 -(T. K.) - - 
 
 14 
 
 - (E. A.) - - 
 
 14 
 
 Acland (A. H. D.) - 
 
 3 
 
 Acton (Eliza) - 
 
 28 
 
 Adeane (J. H.) - 
 
 7 
 
 yEschylus 
 
 18 
 
 Ainger (A. C.) - 
 
 12 
 
 Albemarle (Earl of) - 
 
 II 
 
 Allen (Grant) - 
 
 24 
 
 Allingham (W.) 
 
 18, 29 
 
 -(F.) - - - 
 
 21 
 
 Andre (R.) 
 
 12 
 
 Anstey (F.) 
 
 21 
 
 Archer (W.) 
 
 8 
 
 Aristophanes - 
 
 18 
 
 Aristotle - - - 
 
 14, 18 
 
 Armstrong (G. F. 
 Savage) 
 
 19 
 
 -(E.J. Savage) 7,19.29 
 
 Arnold (Sir Edwin) - 
 
 8,19 
 
 -(Dr. T.) - - 
 
 3 
 
 Ashley (W. J.) - 
 
 16 
 
 Astor(J.J.) 
 
 21 
 
 Atelier du Lys (Author 
 
 of)- - ,- 
 
 26 
 
 Ayre (Rev. J.) - 
 
 25 
 
 Bacon - - . 
 
 7, 14 
 
 Page 
 
 Baden-Powell (B. H.) 3 
 
 Bagehot (W.) - 7, 16, 29 
 
 Bagwell (R.) * - 3 
 
 Bam (Alexander) - 14 
 
 Baker (Sir S. W.) - 8, 10 
 
 Baldwin (C. S.) - 14 
 
 Balfour (A. J.) - ii, 31 
 
 Ball (J. T.) - - 3 
 
 Baring-Gould (Rev. 
 
 S.) - - - 27,29 
 
 Barnett (Rev. S. A. & 
 
 Mrs.) - - - 16 
 
 Baynes (T. S.) - - 29 
 
 Beaconsfield (Earl of) 21 
 
 Beaufort (Duke of) - 10, ii 
 Becker (Prof.) - - 18 
 
 Beesly (A. H.) - - 19 
 
 Bell (Mrs. Hugh) - 19 
 
 -(Mrs. Arthur) - 7 
 
 Bent (J. Theodore) - 8 
 
 Besant (Sir Walter)- 3 
 Bickerdyke (J.) - ii 
 
 Bicknell (A. C.) - 8 
 
 Bird (R.) - - - 31 
 
 Black (Clementina) . 21 
 
 Blackwell (Elizabeth) 7 
 Bland (Mrs. Herbert) 20 
 Boase (Rev. C. W.) - 4 
 
 Boedder (Rev. B.) - 16 
 
 Page 
 
 Bosanquet (B.) - 14 
 
 Boyd (Rev.A. K. H.)7,29, 31 
 Brassey (Lady) - 8, 9 
 
 -(Lord) 3, 8, II, 16 
 
 Bray (C. and Mrs.) - 14 
 
 Bright (Rev. J. F.) - 3 
 
 Broadfoot (Major W.) 10 
 
 Brbgger (W. C.) - 8 
 
 Brookings (W.) - 29 
 
 Browning (H. Ellen) 9 
 
 Buck (H. A.) - - II 
 
 Buckle (H. T.) - - 3 
 
 Bull(T.) - - - 28 
 
 Burke (U. R.) - - 3 
 
 Burrows (Montagu) 4 
 
 Butler (E. A.) - - 24 
 
 - (Samuel) - - 29 
 
 Cameron of Lochiel 12 
 
 Cannan (E.) - - 17 
 
 -(F. Laura) . 13 
 
 Chesney (Sir G.) - 3 
 
 Chisholm (G. G.) - 25 
 
 Cholmondeley-Pennell 
 
 _(H.) - - - II 
 
 Cicero - - - 18 
 
 Clarke (Rev. R. F.) - 16 
 
 Clodd (Edward) - 17 
 
 Clutterbuck (W. J.) - 9 
 
 Page 
 
 Cochrane (A.) - - 19 
 
 Coleridge (S. T.) - 20 
 
 Comyn (L. N.) - 26 
 
 Conington (John) - 
 Conybeare (Rev. W. J.) 
 
 & Howson (Dean) 27 
 Corbett (Julian) - 3 
 
 Corder (Annie) - 19 
 
 Coventry (A.) - - ii 
 
 Cox (Harding) - 10 
 
 Crake (Rev. A. D.) - 26 
 
 Creighton (Bishop) - 3,4 
 
 Crozier (J. B.) - - 14 
 
 Crump (A.) - - 21 
 
 Cuningham (G. C.) - 3 
 
 Curzon (Hon. G. N.) 3 
 
 Cutts (Rev. E. L.) - 4 
 
 Dallinger (F. W.) - 4 
 
 Davidson (W. L.) - 14, 16 
 
 Davies (J. F.) - - 18 
 
 Deland (Mrs ) - - 21, 26 
 
 Dent (C. T.) - ii 
 
 Deploige - - - 17 
 
 De Salis (Mrs.) - 28, 29 
 De Tocqueville (A.) - 3 
 
 Devas (C. S.) - - 16 
 
 Dickinson (G. L.) - 4 
 
 Diderot - - - 21 
 
21 
 
 i6 
 
 21 
 
 30 
 
 4 
 
 II 
 
 20 
 
 8 
 
 12 
 
 18 
 
 4 
 
 12 
 
 14 
 
 30 
 
 21 
 
 10 
 
 12 
 
 12 
 
 21 
 
 7 
 
 12 
 
 4 
 
 21 
 
 24 
 
 17 
 
 4 
 
 12 
 
 26 
 
 12 
 
 13 
 
 14 
 
 32 
 
 21 
 
 22 
 
 8 
 
 19 
 
 21 
 
 16 
 
 12 
 
 14 
 
 7 
 
 14 
 
 4 
 
 26 
 
 14 
 
 II 
 
 II 
 
 21 
 
 19 
 
 30 
 
 22 
 
 II 
 
 8 
 
 30 
 
 30 
 
 4 
 
 4 
 
 22 
 
 12 
 
 24 
 
 6 
 
 30 
 
 14 
 
 II 
 
 24 
 
 7 
 
 II 
 
 AUTHORS 
 
 
 Page 
 
 Hudson (W. H.) 
 
 24 
 
 Hueffer (F. M.) 
 
 7 
 
 Hume (David) - 
 
 14 
 
 Hunt (Rev. W.) 
 
 4 
 
 Hutchinson (Horace G.) ii 
 
 Ingelow (Jean 
 
 19, 26 
 
 ames (W.) 
 
 14 
 
 efferies (Richard) - 
 
 30 
 
 _ enery-Shee (R.) 
 
 17 
 
 erome (}erome K.) - 
 
 22 
 
 ohnson (|. & J. H.) 
 
 30 
 
 ones (H. Bence) 
 
 25 
 
 -(Owen G.) 
 
 9 
 
 Jordan (W. L.) 
 
 16 
 
 Jowett (Dr. B.) 
 
 17 
 
 Joyce (P. W.) - 
 
 4 
 
 Justinian - - - 
 
 H 
 
 Kalisch (M. M.) 
 
 32 
 
 Kant (I.) - - - 
 
 14 
 
 Kaye (Sir J. W.) 
 
 5 
 
 Kerr (Rev. J.) - 
 
 II 
 
 Killick (Rev. A. H.) - 
 
 15 
 
 Kitchin (Dr. G. W.) 
 
 4 
 
 Knight (E. F.) - 5, 9, ii 
 
 Kostlin (J.) - - 7 
 
 Ladd (G. T.) - - 15 
 
 Lang (Andrew) 5,10, ii, 13, 
 17, 18, 19, 20, 22, 26, 30 
 Lascelles (Hon. G.) 
 
 10, II, 12 
 
 Laughton (J. K.) - 8 
 
 Laurie (S. S.) - - 5 
 
 Layard (Nina F.) - 19 
 
 Leaf (Walter) - - 31 
 
 Lear (H. L. Sidne)') - 29 
 
 Lecky (W. E. H.) - 5, 19 
 
 Lees (J. A.) - - 9 
 
 Lejeune (Baron) - 7 
 
 Lester (L. V.) - - 7 
 
 Levett-Yeats (S.) - 22 
 
 Lewes (G. H.) - - 15 
 
 Lillie (A.) - - - 13 
 
 Lindley (J.) - - 25 
 
 Lodge (H. C.) - - 4 
 
 Loftie (Rev. W. J.) - 4 
 
 Longman (C. J.) 10, 13, 30 
 
 -(F. V/.) - - 13 
 
 -(G. H.) - - II, 12 
 
 Lowell (A. L.) - - 5 
 
 Lubbock (Sir John) - 17 
 
 Lucan - - - 18 
 
 Lutoslawski (W.) - 15 
 
 Lyall (Edna) - - 22 
 
 L5dtelton (Hon. R. H.) 10 
 
 -(Hon. A.) - - II 
 
 Lytton (Earl of) - 19 
 
 MacArthur (Miss E. A.) 17 
 Macaulay (Lord) 5, 6, 20 
 MacColl (Canon) - 6 
 
 Macdonald (George) 20, 32 
 
 Macfarren (Sir G. A.) 30 
 
 Mackail (J. W.) - 18 
 
 Mackinnon (J.) - 6 
 
 Macleod (H. D.) - 16 
 
 Macpherson (Rev. H. A.)i2 
 
 Madden (D. H.) - 13 
 
 Maher (Rev. M.) - 16 
 
 Malleson (Col. G. B.) 5 
 
 Mandello (J.) - - 17 
 
 Marbot (Baron de) - 8 
 
 Marshman (J. C.) - 7 
 
 Martineau (Dr. James) 32 
 Maskelyne (J. N.) - 13 
 
 Maunder (S.) - - 25 
 
 Max Muller (F.) 
 
 15. 16, 30, 32 
 
 -(Mrs.) - - 9 
 
 May (Sir T. Erskinel 6 
 
 Meade (L. T.) - - 26 
 
 Melville (G. J. Whyte) 22 
 Merivale (Dean) - 6 
 
 Merriman (H. S.) - 22 
 
 Mill (James) - - 15 
 
 -(John Stuart) - 15, 16 
 
 Milner (G.) - - 30 
 
 AND EDI 
 
 Miss Moily {A uthov of) 
 
 Page 
 
 26 
 
 Molesworth (Mrs.) - 
 
 26 
 
 Montague (F. C.) 
 
 6 
 
 Montagu (Hon. John 
 Scott) 
 
 12 
 
 Moore (T.) 
 
 25 
 
 -(Rev. Edward) - 
 
 14 
 
 Morgan (C. Lloyd) - 
 
 17 
 
 Morris (W.) - 20, ; 
 
 22, 31 
 
 -(Mowbray) 
 
 II 
 
 Mulhall (M. G.) 
 
 17 
 
 Munk (W.) 
 
 7 
 
 Nansen (F.) 
 
 9 
 
 Nesbit (E.) 
 
 20 
 
 Nettleship (R. L.) - 
 
 14 
 
 Newman (Cardinal) - 
 
 22 
 
 Ogle (W.) - 
 
 18 
 
 Oliphant (Mrs.) 
 
 22 
 
 Oliver (W. D.) 
 
 9 
 
 Onslow (Earl of) 
 
 II 
 
 Orchard (T. N.) 
 
 31 
 
 Osbourne (L) - 
 
 23 
 
 Park (W.) 
 
 13 
 
 Parr (Louisa) - 
 
 26 
 
 Payne-Gallwey (Sir 
 
 
 R.) - - - II, 13 
 
 Peek (Hedley) - - ii 
 
 Pembroke (Earl of) - ii 
 
 Phillipps-Wolley (C.) 10, 22 
 Pleydell-Bouverie (E. O.) ii 
 Pole (W.) - - - 13 
 
 Pollock (W. H.) - II 
 
 Poole (YV. H. and Mrs.) 29 
 Poore (G. V.) - - 31 
 
 Potter (J.) - - 16 
 
 Praeger (S. Rosamond) 26 
 Prevost (C.) - - ii 
 
 Pritchett (R. T.) - ii 
 
 Proctor (R. A.) 13,24, 28, 31 
 
 Quill (A. W.) - 
 
 18 
 
 Quillinan i,Mrs.) 
 
 9 
 
 Quintana (A.) - 
 
 22 
 
 Raine (Rev. James) - 
 
 4 
 
 Ransome (Cyril) 
 Rawlinson (Rev. 
 
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 Canon) 
 
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 Rhoades (J.) 
 
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 Rhoscomyl ( 0 .) 
 
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 Ribblesdale (Lord) - 
 
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 Rich (A.) - 
 
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 Richardson (C.) 
 
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 Richman ( 1 . B.) 
 
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 Rickaby (Rev. John) 
 
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 Ridley (Annie E.) 
 
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 Riley (J. W.) - 
 
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 Roget (Peter M.) 
 
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 Rolfsen (N.) 
 
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 8 
 
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 Ronalds (A.) 
 
 13 
 
 Roosevelt (T.) - 
 
 4 
 
 Rossetti (M. F.) 
 
 31 
 
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 20 
 
 Russell (Bertrand) - 
 
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 Saintsburv (G.) 
 
 12 
 
 Sandars (T. C.) 
 
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 Schreiner (S. C. Cron- 
 
 wright) 
 
 10 
 
 Seebohm (F.) - 
 
 6, 8 
 
 Selous (F. C.) - 
 
 10 
 
 Selss (A. M.) - 
 
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 Sewell (Elizabeth M.] 
 
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 Shakespeare 
 
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 Suffolk & Berkshire 
 
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 Taylor (Col. Meadows) 17 
 
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 Watson (A. E. T.) 
 
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 Waylen (H. S. H.) - 30 
 
 Webb (Mr. and Mrs. 
 
 Sidney) - - 17 
 
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 Weber (A.) - - 15 
 
 Weir (Capt. R.) - ii 
 
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 Whately(Archbishop) 14,15 
 
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 of Glasgow in 18go. Crown 8 vo., 105, 6 d. 
 
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 versity of Glasgow in i8gi. Cr. 8vo., los. (d. 
 
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 before the University of Glasgow in 1892. 
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 Three Lectures on the Vedanta 
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 Romanes. — Tho ughts on Religion. 
 
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 Crown 8vOi, 45. (d. 
 
 Vivekananda. — Yoga Philosophy: 
 
 Lectures delivered in New York, Winter of 
 
 1895-96, by the SWAMIVIKEKANANDA, 
 
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 with Commentaries. Crown 8vo, 35. (d. 
 
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