University of Virginia Library

There are two reasons for the return of Telemachus; one, the duty a son owes to a mother; the other, to find an opportunity to put in execution the designs concerted with Ulysses: the Poet therefore shifts the scene from the Lodge to the Palace. Telemachus takes not Ulysses along with him, for fear he should raise suspicion in the Suitors, that a person in a beggar's garb has some secret merit, to obtain the familiarity of a King's son, and this might be an occasion of a discovery; whereas when Ulysses afterwards appears amongst the Suitors, he is thought to be an entire stranger to Telemachus, which prevents all jealousy, and gives them an opportunity to carry on their measures without any particular observation. Besides, Eumæus is still to be kept in ignorance concerning the person of Ulysses? Telemachus therefore gives him a plausible reason for his return; namely, that his mother may no longer be in pain for his safety: This likewise excellently contributes to deceive Eumæus. Now as the presence of Ulysses in the Palace is absolutely necessary to bring about the Suitor's destruction, Telemachus orders Eumæus to conduct him thither, and by this method he comes as the friend and guest of Eumæus, not of Telemachus: Moreover, this injunction was necessary: Eumæus was a person of such generosity, that he would have thought himself obliged to detain his guest under his own care and inspection: nay, before he guides him towards the Palace, in the sequel of this book, he tells Ulysses he does it solely in compliance with the order of Telemachus, and acts contrary to his own inclinations.

This might appear too free a declaration, if Telemachus had made it before he knew Ulysses; for no circumstance could justify him for using any disregard toward the poor and stranger, according to the strict notions, and the sanctity, of the laws of hospitality amongst the antients: but as the case stands we are not the least shock'd at the words of Telemachus, we know the reason why he thus speaks: It is to conceal Ulysses. He is so far from shewing any particular regard to him, that he treats him with a severity in some degree contrary to the laws of hospitality; by adding, that if he complains of this hard usage, the complaint will not redress but encrease his calamity.

This description presents us with a noble idea of the beauty and chastity of Penelope; her person resembles Venus, but Venus with the modest air of Diana. Dionysius Halicarn. takes notice of the beauty and softness of these two verses.

When Homer (remarks that Author) paints a beautiful face, or an engaging object, he chuses the softest vowels, and most smooth and flowing semivowels: He never clogs the pronounciation with-rough sounds, and a collision of untunable consonants, but every syllable, every letter conspires to exhibit the beauty of the object he endeavours to represent: There are no less than three and thirty vowels in two lines, and no more than twenty nine consonants, which makes the verses flow away with an agreeable smoothness and harmony.

Penelope, we see, embraces her son with the utmost affection: Kissing the lip was not in fashion in the days of Homer; No one (remarks the Bishop) ever kisses the lip or mouth. Penelope here kisses her son's eyes, and his head; that is, his cheek, or perhaps forehead: and Eumæus, in the preceding book, embraces the hands, eyes. and head of Telemachus. But for the comfort of the Ladies, I rejoice to observe that all these were ceremonious kisses from a mother to a son, or from an inferior to a superior: This therefore is no argument that lovers thus embrac'd, nor ought it to be brought as a reason why the present manner of salutation should be abrogated. Madam Dacier has been so tender as to keep it a secret from the men, that there ever was a time in which the modern method of kissing was not in fashion; she highly deserves their thanks and gratitude for it.

There is a vein of sincere piety that runs thro' the words and actions of Telemachus: he has no sooner delivered his mother from her uneasy apprehensions concerning his safety, but he proceeds to another act of virtue toward Theoclymenus, whom he had taken into his protection: He performs his duty towards men and towards the Gods. It is by his direction that Penelope offers up her devotions for success, and thanks for his return. It is he who prescribes the manner of it; namely, by washing the hands, in token of the purity of mind requir'd by those who supplicate the Deities; and by putting on clean garments, to shew the reverence and regard with which their souls ought to be possest when they appear before the Gods. I am not sensible that the last ceremony is often mentioned in other parts of Homer; yet I doubt not but it was practis'd upon all religious solemnities. The moral of the whole is, that piety is a sure way to victory: Telemachus appears every where a good man, and for this reason he becomes at last an happy one; and his calamities contribute to his glory.

Penelope had requested Telemachus to give her an account of his voyage to Pyle, and of what he had heard concerning Ulysses. He there wav'd the discourse, because the Queen was in public with her female attendants: by this conduct the Poet sustains both their characters; Penelope is impatient to hear of Ulysses, and this agrees with the affection of a tender wife; but the discovery being unseasonable, Telemachus forbears to satisfy her curiosity; in which he acts like a wise man. Here (observes Eustathius) she gently reproaches him for not satisfying her impatience concerning her husband; she insinuates that it is a piece of cruelty to permit her still to grieve, when it is in his power to give her comfort; and this induces him to gratify her desires. It ought to be observ'd, that Homer chuses a proper time for this relation; it was necessary that the Suitors should be ignorant of the story of Ulysses; Telemachus therefore makes it when they are withdrawn to their sports, and when none were present but friends.

Eustathius takes notice of the candid behaviour of Telemachus with respect to Helen: She had receiv'd him courteously, and he testifies his gratitude, by ascribing the calamities she drew upon her country to the decree of heav'n, not to her immodesty: This is particularly decent in the mouth of Telemachus, because he is now acquainted with his father's return; otherwise he could not have mention'd her name but to her dishonour, who had been the occasion of his death.

These verses are repeated from the fourth Odyssey; and are not without a good effect, they cannot fail of comforting Penelope, by assuring her that Ulysses is alive, and restrain'd by Calypso involuntarily; they give her hopes of his return, and the satisfaction of hearing his glory from the mouth of Menelaus. The conciseness of Telemachus is likewise remarkable; he re-capitulates in thirty eight lines the subject of almost three books, the third, the fourth and fifth; he selects every circumstance that can please Penelope, and drops those that would give her pain.

It is with great judgment that the Poet here introduces Theoclymenus; he is a person that has no direct relation to the story of the Odyssey, yet because he appears accidentally in it, Homer unites him very artificially with it, that he may not appear to no purpose, and as an useless ornament. He here speaks as an Augur, and what he utters contributes to the perseverance of Penelope in resisting the addresses of the Suitors, by assuring her of the return of Ulysses; and consequently in some degree Theoclymenus promotes the principal action. But it may be said, if it was necessary that Penelope should be informed of his return, why does not Telemachus assure her of it, who was fully acquainted with the truth? The answer is, that Penelope is not to be fully inform'd, but only encouraged by a general hope: Theoclymenus speaks from his art, which may possibly be liable to error; but Telemachus must have spoken from knowledge, which would have been contrary to the injunctions of Ulysses, and might have prov'd fatal by an unseasonable discovery: It was therefore judicious in the Poet to put the assurance of the return of Ulysses into the mouth of Theoclymenus, and not of Telemachus.

There is an expression in this speech, which in the Greek is remarkable; literally it is to be render'd, Ulysses is now sitting or creeping in Ithaca, ημενος η ερπων; that is, Ulysses is return'd and conceal'd: It is taken from the posture of a person in the act of endeavouring to hide himself: he sits down or creeps upon the ground. Eustathius explains it by κρυφα, και ου κατ' ορθον βαδιζων.

Eustathius remarks, that tho' the Suitors were abandon'd to luxury, vice, and intemperance, yet they exercise themselves in laudable sports: They toss the quoit, or throw the javelin, which are both heroic diversions, and form the body into strength and activity. This is owing to the virtue of the age, not the persons: such sports were fashionable, and therefore used by the Suitors, and not because they were heroic. However they may instruct us never to give our selves up to idleness and inaction; but to make our very diversions subservient to nobler views, and turn a pleasure into a virtue.

We may observe that the character of Medon is very particular; he is at the same time a favourite of the Suitors, and Telemachus, persons entirely opposite in their interests. It seldom happens that any man can please two parties, without acting an insincere part: Atticus was indeed equally acceptable to the two factions of Cæsar and Pompey, but it was because he seem'd neutral, and acted as if they were both his friends; or rather he was a man of such eminent virtues, that they esteem'd it an honour to have him thought their friend. Homer every where represents Medon as a person of integrity; he is artful, but not criminal: no doubt but he made all compliances, that consisted with probity, with the Suitor's dispositions; by this method he sav'd Penelope more effectually than if he had shew'd a more rigid virtue. He made himself master of their hearts by an insinuating behaviour, and was a spy upon their actions. Eustathius compares him to a buskin that fits both legs, οιων τις Κοθορνος; he seems to have been an Anti-Cato, and practis'd a virtuous gayety.

Such little traits as these are very delightful; for the Reader knowing that the person to whom this offer is made, is Ulysses, cannot fail of being diverted to see the honest and loyal Eumæus promising to make his master and King the keeper of his herds or stalls, σταθμων; and this is offer'd as a piece of good fortune or dignity.

Eustathius gathers from these words, that the time of the action of the Odyssey was in the end of autumn, or beginning of winter, when the mornings and evenings are cold: Thus Ulysses, in the beginning of this book, makes the coldness of the morning an excuse for not going with Telemachus; his rags being but an ill defense against it: and here Eumæus mentions the coldness of the evening, as a reason why they should begin their journey in the heat of the day; so that it was now probably about ten of the clock, and they arrive at Ithaca at noon: from hence we may conjecture, that the lodge of Eumæus was five or six miles from the city, that is, about a two hours walk.

It is certain that if these little particulars had been omitted, there would have been no chasm in the connection; why then does Homer insert such circumstances unnecessarily, which it must be allowed are of no importance, and add nothing to the perfection of the story? nay, they are such as may be thought trivial, and unworthy the dignity of Epic Poetry. But, as Dacier very well observes, they are a kind of painting: Were a Painter to draw this subject, he would undoubtedly insert into the piece these herdsmen and dogs after the manner of Homer; they are natural ornaments, and consequently are no disgrace either to the Poet or the Painter.

It is observable that Homer gives us an exact draught of the country; he sets before us, as in a picture, the city, the circular grove of poplars adjacent, the fountain falling from a rock, and the Altar sacred to the Nymphs, erected on the point of it. We are as it were transported into Ithaca, and travel with Ulysses and Eumæus: Homer verifies the observation of Horace above all Poets; namely, that Poetry is Painting.

Public benefactions demand public honours and acknowledgments; for this reason Homer makes an honourable mention of these three brothers. Ithaca was a small Island, and destitute of plenty of fresh water; this fountain therefore was a public good to the whole region about it; and has given immortality to the Authors of it. They were the sons of Pterelaus (as Eustathius informs us) Ithacus gave name to the country, Neritus to a mountain, and Polyctor to a place call'd Polyctorium.

Dacier is very singular in her interpretation of this passage: She imagines it has a reference to the games practis'd amongst the Suitors, and to the rewards of the victors, which were usually Tripods and beautiful captives. “Thinkest thou (says Melanthius) that this beggar will obtain the victory in our sports, and that they will give him as the reward of his valour, some beautiful slave, or some precious Tripod?” But in Homer there is nothing that gives the least countenance to this explication: He thus literally speaks: This fellow by going from door to door will meet with correction, while he begs meanly for a few scraps, not for things of price, such as a captive or Tripod. Eustathius explains it as spoken in contempt of Ulysses; that he appears to be such a vile person, as to have no ambition or hope to expect any thing better than a few scraps, nor to aspire to the rewards of nobler strangers, such as captives or Tripods. Ακολοι, says the same Author, are the minutest crumbs of bread, σμικροτατοι ψωμοι. I am persuaded, that the Reader will subscribe to the judgment of Eustathius, if he considers the construction, and that αορας and λεβητας are govern'd by αιτιζων as effectually as ακολους, and therefore must refer to the same act of begging, not of claiming by victory in the games; αιτιζων is not a word that can here express a reward, but only a charity: besides, would it not be absurd to say that a Beggar goes from door to door asking alms, and not rewards bestow'd upon victors in public exercises? the words πολλησι φλιησι make the sense general, they denote the life of a beggar, which is to go from door to door, and consequently they ought not to be confin'd solely to the Suitors, and if not, they can have no reference to any games, or to any rewards bestowed upon such occasions. Besides it is scarce to be conceiv'd that Melanthius could think this Beggar capable of being admitted into the company, much less into the diversions of the Suitors, who were all persons of high birth and station. 'Tis true, Lib. 21. Ulysses is permitted to try the bow, but this is through the peculiar grace of Telemachus, who knew the Beggar to be Ulysses; and entirely contrary to their injunctions.

From this Passage we may correct an error in Hesychius: αορες (says he) are γυναικες και τριποδες: the sentence is evidently maim'd, for Hesychius undoubtedly thus wrote it, αορες γυναικες λεγονται, for thus (adds he) Homer uses it:

that is (says Hesychius) ουγυναικας ουδε τριποδας, referring to this Verse of the Odyssey.

Homer excellently sustains the character of Ulysses; he is a Man of patience, and master of all his passions; he is here misused by one of his own servants, yet is so far from returning the injury, that he stifles the sense of it, without speaking one word: 'Tis true he is describ'd as having a conflict in his Soul; but this is no derogation to his character: not to feel like a man, is Insensibility, not Virtue; but to repress the emotions of the heart, and keep them within the bounds of moderation, this argues wisdom, and turns an injury into a virtue and glory. There is an excellent contrast between the benevolent Eumæus, and the insolent Melanthius. Eumæus resents the Outrage of Melanthius more than Ulysses; he is moved with indignation but how does he express it? not by railing, but by an appeal to Heaven in a prayer: A conduct worthy to be imitated in more enlighten'd ages. The word αγλαιας here bears a peculiar signification; it does not imply Voluptuousness as usually, but Pride, and means that Ulysses would spoil his haughty airs, if he should ever return: This interpretation agrees with what follows, where Eumæus reproaches him for despising his rural charge, and aspiring to politeness, or as we express it, to be a Man of the Town.

We may gather from hence the truth of an observation formerly made, That Melanthius, Eumæus, &c. were persons of distinction, and their offices posts of honour: we see Melanthius, who had charge of the Goats of Ulysses, is a companion for Princes.

The reason why Melanthius in particular associates himself with Eurymachus is, an intrigue which that Prince holds with Melantho his sister, as appears from the following Book. There is a confederacy and league between them, and we find they all suffer condign punishment in the end of the Odyssey.

We have here a very particular draught or plan of the palace of Ulysses; it is a kind of castle, at once design'd for strength and magnificence: this we may gather from υπεροπλισσαιτο, which Hesychius explains by υπερπηδησαι, υπερβηναι, not easily to be surmounted, or forc'd by arms.

Homer artfully introduces Ulysses struck with wonder at the beauty of the palace; this is done to confirm Eumæus in the opinion that Ulysses is really the Beggar he appears to be, and a perfect stranger among the Ithacans: Thus also when he complains of hunger, he speaks the language of a Beggar, as Eustathius remarks, to persuade Eumæus that he takes his journey to the Court, solely out of want and hunger.

This whole Episode has fallen under the ridicule of the Critics; Monsieur Perault in particular: “The Dunghill before the Palace (says that Author) is more proper for a Peasant than a King; and it is beneath the dignity of Poetry to describe the Dog Argus almost devour'd with vermin.” It must be allow'd, that such a familiar Episode could not have been properly introduced into the Iliad: It is writ in a nobler style, and distinguish'd by a boldness of sentiments and diction; whereas the Odyssey descends to the Familiar, and is calculated more for common than heroic life. What Homer says of Argus is very natural, and I do not know any thing more beautiful or more affecting in the whole Poem: I dare appeal to every person's judgment, if Argus be not as justly and properly represented, as the noblest figure in it. It is certain that the vermin which Homer mentions would debase our Poetry, but in the Greek that very word is noble and sonorous, Κυνοραιστεων: But how is the objection concerning the Dunghill to be answer'd? We must have recourse to the simplicity of manners amongst the Antients, who thought nothing mean, that was of use to life. Ithaca was a barren Country, full of Rocks and Mountains, and ow'd its fertility chiefly to cultivation, and for this reason such circumstantial cares were necessary. 'Tis true such a description now is more proper for a Peasant than a King, but antiently it was no disgrace for a King to perform with his own hands, what is now left only to Peasants. We read of a Dictator taken from the plough, and why may not a King as well manure his field as plough it, without receding from his dignity? Virgil has put the same thing into a Precept:

It may seem that this circumstance was inserted casually, or at least only to shew the age and infirmity of Argus: but there is a further intent in it: If the Dog had ran to Ulysses and fawn'd upon him, it would have rais'd a strong suspicion in Eumæus that he was not such a stranger to the Ithacans as he pretended, but some person in disguise; and this might have occasioned an unseasonable discovery. Eustathius.

I confess my self touch'd with the tenderness of these tears in Ulysses; I would willingly think that they proceed from a better principle than the weakness of human nature, and are an instance of a really virtuous and compassionate disposition.

Good men are easily mov'd to Tears: In my judgment, Ulysses appears more amiable while he weeps over his faithful Dog, than when he drives an army of enemies before him: That shews him to be a great Heroe, This a good Man. It was undoubtedly an instance of an excellent disposition in one of the Fathers who pray'd for the Grace of Tears.

Juv. Sat. 15.

And Dryden,

It is the Greek ανακτες, or Kings; but the word is not to be taken in too strict a sense; it implies all persons of distinction, or οικοδεσποτας, like the word Rex in Horace.

And Reginæ in Terence (as Dacier observes) is used in the same manner.

This is a very remarkable sentence, and commonly found to be true. Longinus in his enquiry into the decay of human wit quotes it. “Servitude, be it never so justly established, is a kind of prison, wherein the soul shrinks in some measure, and diminishes by constraint: it has the same effect with the boxes in which dwarfs are inclos'd, which not only hinder the body from its growth, but make it less by the constriction. It is observable that all the great Orators flourish'd in Republics, and indeed what is there that raises the souls of great men more than Liberty? In other governments men commonly become instead of Orators, pompous flatterers: A man born in servitude may be capable of other sciences; but no slave can ever be an Orator; for while the mind is deprest and broken by slavery, it will never dare to think or say any thing bold and noble; all the vigour evaporates, and it remains as it were confin'd in a prison. Etiam fera animalia, si clausa teneas, virtutis obliviscuntur.

These verses are quoted in Plato, lib. 6. de legibus, but somewhat differently from our editions.

However this aphorism is to be understood only generally, not universally; Eumæus who utters it is an instance to the contrary, who retains his virtue in a state of subjection; and Plato speaks to the same purpose, asserting that some slaves have been found of such virtue as to be preferr'd to a son or brother; and have often preserv'd their masters and their families.

It has been a question what occasion'd the death of Argus, at the instant he saw Ulysses: Eustathius imputes it to the joy he felt at the sight of his master. But there has another objection been started against Homer, for ascribing so long a life as twenty years to Argus, and that dogs never surpass the fifteenth year; but this is an error; Aristotle affirms, that some dogs live two and twenty, and other Naturalists subscribe to his judgment. Eustathius tells us, that other Writers agree, that some dogs live twenty four years. Pliny thus writes, Canes Laconici vivunt annis denis, fœmina duodenis, cætera genera quindecim annos, aliquando viginti. Madam Dacier mentions some of her own knowledge that liv'd twenty three years, and the Translator, not to fall short of these illustrious examples, has known one that died at twenty two, big with puppies.

We are not to imagine that Homer is here recommending immodesty: but to understand him as speaking of a decent assurance, in opposition to a faulty shame or bashfulness. The verse in the

A person of great learning has observed that there is a tautology in the three last words; in a beggar that wants: as if the very notion of a beggar did not imply want. Indeed Plato, who cites this verse in his Charmides, uses another word instead of προικτη, and inserts παρεινα. Hesiod likewise, who makes use of the same line, instead of προικτη reads κομιζει, which would almost induce us to believe that they thought there was a tautology in Homer. It has therefore been conjectur'd, that the word προικτης should be inserted in the place of προικτη; I am sorry that the construction will not allow it; that word is of the masculine gender, and αγαθη which is of the feminine cannot agree with it. We may indeed substitute αγαθος, and then the sense will be bashfulness is no good petitioner for a beggar; but this must be done without authority. We must therefore thus understand Homer; “Too much modesty is not good for a poor man, who lives by begging, προικτη; and this solution clears the verse from the tautology, for a man may be in want, and not be a beggar; or (as Homer expresses it) κεχρημενος, and yet not προικτης.

This is a circumstance that occurs almost in every book of the Odyssey, and Pallas has been thought to mean no more than the inherent wisdom of Ulysses, which guides all his actions upon all emergencies: It is not impossible but the Poet might intend to inculcate, that the wisdom of man is the gift of Heaven, and a blessing from the Gods. But then is it not a derogation to Ulysses, to think nothing but what the Goddess dictates? and a restraint of human liberty, to act solely by the impulse of a Deity? Plutarch in his life of Coriolanus excellently solves this difficulty. “Men (observes that Author) are ready to censure and despise the Poet, as if he destroy'd the use of reason, and the freedom of their choice, by continually ascribing every suggestion of heart to the influence of a Goddess: Whereas he introduces a Deity not to take away the liberty of the will, but as moving it to act with freedom; the Deity does not work in us the inclinations, but only offers the object to our minds, from whence we conceive the impulse, and form our resolutions.” However these influences do not make the action involuntary, but only give a beginning to spontaneous operations; for we must either remove God from all manner of causality, or confess that he invisibly assists us by a secret co-operation. For it is absurd to imagine that the help he lends us, consists in fashioning the postures of the body, or directing the corporeal motions; but in influencing our souls, and exciting the inward faculties into action by secret impulses from above; or on the contrary, by raising an aversion in the soul, to restrain us from action. 'Tis true in ordinary affairs of life, in matters that are brought about by the ordinary way of reason, Homer ascribes the execution of them to human performance, and frequently represents his Heroes calling a council in their own breasts, and acting according to the dictates of reason: But in actions unaccountably daring, of a transcendent nature, there they are said to be carry'd away by a divine impulse or enthusiasm, and it is no longer human reason, but a God that influences the soul.

I have already observ'd, that Homer makes use of Machines sometimes meerly for ornament; this place is an instance of it: Here is no action of an uncommon nature perform'd, and yet Pallas directs Ulysses: Plutarch very justly observes, that whenever the Heroes of Homer execute any prodigious exploit of valour, he continually introduces a Deity, who assists in the performance of it; but it is also true, that to shew the dependance of man upon the assistance of Heaven, he frequently ascribes the common dictates of wisdom to the Goddess of it. If we take the act here inspired by Minerva, as it lies nakedly in Homer it is no more than a bare command to beg; an act, that needs not the wisdom of a Goddess to command: But we are to understand it as a direction to Ulysses how to behave before the Suitors upon his first appearance, how to carry on his disguise so artfully as to prevent all suspicions, and take his measures so effectually as to work his own re-establishment: In this light, the command becomes worthy of a Goddess: The act of begging is only the method by which he carries on his design; the consequence of it is the main point in view, namely, the Suitors destruction. The rest is only the stratagem, by which he obtains the victory.

A single virtue, or act of humanity, is not a sufficient atonement for a whole life of insolence and oppression; so that altho' some of the Suitors should be found less guilty than the rest, yet they are still too guilty to deserve impunity.

Homer inserts this particularity to shew the complying nature of Ulysses in all fortunes; he is every where πολυτροπος, it is his distinguishing character in the first verse of the Odyssey, and it is visible in every part of it. He is an artist in the trade of begging as Eustathius observes, and knows how to become the lowest, as well as the highest station.

Homer adds, that the Suitors were struck with wonder at the fight of Ulysses. This is (says Eustathius) because they had never before seen him in Ithaca, and concluded him to be a foreigner. But I rather think it is a compliment Homer pays to his Heroe to represent his port and figure to be such, as tho' a beggar, struck them with astonishment.

This is an evidence of the great honour antiently paid to persons eminent in mechanic arts: The Architect, and publick artisans, δημιουργοι, are joyn'd with the Prophet, Physician, and Poet, who were esteem'd almost with a religious veneration, and look'd upon as public blessings. Honour was antiently given to men in proportion to the benefits they brought to society: A useless great man is a burthen to the earth, while the meanest artisan is beneficial to his fellow-creatures, and useful in his generation.

Ulysses here acts with a prudent dissimulation; he pretends not to have understood the irony of Antinous, nor to have observ'd his preparation to strike him; and therefore proceeds as if he apprehended no danger. This at once shews the patience of Ulysses who is inur'd to sufferings, and gives a foundation for the punishment of Antinous in the conclusion of the Odyssey.

It is observable, that Ulysses gives his own History in the same words as in the fourteenth book, yet varies from it in the conclusion; he there spoke to Eumæus, and Eumæus is here present, and hears the story: How is it then that he does not observe the falsification of Ulysses, and conclude him to be an impostor? Eustathius labours for an answer; he imagines that Eumæus was inadvertent, or had forgot the former relation, and yet asserts that the reason why Ulysses tells the same History in part to Antinous, proceeds from a fear of detection in Eumæus. I would rather imagine that Ulysses makes the deviation, trusting to the judgment of Eumæus, who might conclude that there was some good reason why he forbears to let Antinous into the full History of his life; especially, because he was an enemy both to Ulysses and Eumæus: he might therefore easily reflect, that the difference of his story arose from prudence and design, rather than from imposture and falshood.

We are not to search too exactly into historic truth among the fictions of Poetry; but it is very probable that this Dmetor was really King of Cyprus. Eustathius is of this opinion; but it may be objected, that Cinyras was King of Cyprus in the time of Ulysses. Thus lib. XI. Iliad.

The answer is, there were almost twenty years elapsed since the mention of this breast-plate of Cinyras; this King therefore being dead, Dmetor possest the Cyprian throne.

This passage is a full demonstration that the country was call'd Ægypt in the days of Homer, as well as the river Nilus; for in the speech he uses Αιγυπτος in the masculine gender to denote the river, and here he calls it πικρην Αιγυπτον in the feminine, to shew that he speaks of the country: The former word agreeing with ποταμος, the latter with γαια.

The reasoning of Ulysses in the original is not without some obscurity: For how can it be affirm'd, that it is no great affliction to have our property invaded, and to be wounded in the defence of it? The beggar who suffers for asking an alms, has no injury done him, except the violence offer'd to his person; but it is a double injury, to suffer both in our persons and properties. We must therefore suppose that Ulysses means, that the importance of the cause, when our rights are invaded, is equal to the danger, and that we ought to suffer wounds, or even death, in defence of it; and that a brave man grieves not at such laudable adventures. Or perhaps Ulysses speaks only with respect to Antinous, and means that it is a greater injury to offer violence to the poor and the stranger, than to persons of greater fortunes and station.

Eustathius gives a deeper meaning to the speech of Ulysses; he applies it to his present condition, and it is the same as if he had said openly, It would be no great matter if I had been wounded in defence of my Palace, and other properties, but to suffer only for asking an alms, this is a deep affliction. So that Ulysses speaks in general, but intends his own particular condition; and the import of the whole is, I grieve to suffer, not upon any weighty account, but only for being poor and hungry.

We have already observ'd, that it was the opinion of the antients, that the Gods frequently assum'd an human shape. Thus Ovid of Jupiter.

I refer the Reader to the objections of Plato, mention'd in the preceding book. It is observable, that Homer puts this remarkable truth into the mouth of the Suitors, to shew that it was certain and undeniable, when it is attested even by such persons as had no piety or religion.

This is spoken with particular judgment; Telemachus is here to act the part of a wise man, not of a tender son; he restrains his tears lest they should betray his father, it being improbable that he should weep for a vagabond and beggar. We find he has profited by the instructions of Ulysses, and practises the injunctions given in the former book.

Telemachus struggles against the yearnings of nature, and shews himself to be a master of his passions; he must therefore be thought to exert an act of wisdom, not of insensibility.

Diodorus Siculus thus writes of Mines: “He was the son of Jupiter and Europa, who was fabled to be carried by a bull; (that is, in a ship called the bull, or that had the image of a bull carved upon its prow) into Crete: Here Minos reign'd, and built many Cities; he establish'd many laws among the Cretans; he also provided a navy, by which he subdued many of the adjacent Islands. The expression in the Greek will bear a two fold sense; and implies either, where Minos was born, or where the descendants of Minos reign; for Idomeneus, who govern'd Crete in the days of Ulysses, was a descendant of Minos, from his son Deucalion.

Homer mentions it as an honour to Crete, to have given birth to so great a law-giver as Minos; and it is universally true, that every great man is an honour to his country: Athens did not give reputation to learn'd men, but learned men to Athens.

Eustathius fully explains the nature of this omen; for sneezing was reckon'd ominous both by the Greeks and Romans. While Penelope utter'd these words, Telemachus sneezes; Penelope accepts the omen, and expects the words to be verify'd. The original of the veneration paid to sneezing is this: The head is the most sacred part of the body, the seat of thought and reason: now the sneeze coming from the head, the Antients look'd upon it as a sign or omen, and believ'd it to be sent by Jupiter; therefore they regarded it with a kind of adoration: The Reader will have a full idea of the nature of the omen of sneezing here mention'd, from a singular instance in lib. 3. of Xenophon, in his expedition of Cyrus, Xenophon having ended a short speech to his soldiers with these words, viz. “We have many reasons to hope for preservation;” they were scarce utter'd, when a certain soldier sneez'd: the whole army took the omen, and at once paid adoration to the Gods; then Xenophon resuming his discourse, proceeded, Since, my fellow-soldiers, at the mention of our preservation, Jupiter has sent this omen, &c. So that Xenophon fully explains Homer. Sneezing was likewise reckon'd ominous by the Romans. Thus Catullus,

Thus also Propertius,

We find in all these instances that sneezing was constantly receiv'd as a good omen, or a sign of approbation from the Gods. In these ages we pay an idle superstition to sneezing, but it is ever look'd upon as a bad omen, and we cry God bless you, upon hearing it, as the Greeks in latter times said ζηθι or Ζευ σωσον. We are told this custom arose from a mortal distemper that affected the head, and threw the patient into convulsive sneezings, that occasion'd his death.

I will only add from Eustathius, that Homer expresses the loudness of the sneezing, to give a reason why Penelope heard it, she being in an apartment at some distance from Telemachus.

The sneezing likewise gives us the reason why Penelope immediately commands Eumæus to introduce the beggar into her presence; the omen gave her hopes to hear of Ulysses, she saw the beggar was a stranger, and a traveller, and therefore expected he might be able to give her some information.

These words bear a double sense, one applicable to the speaker, the other to the Reader: The Reader, who knows this beggar to be Ulysses, is pleas'd with the conceal'd meaning, and hears with pleasure the beggar affirming that he is fully instructed in the misfortunes of Ulysses: But speaking in the character of a beggar, he keeps Eumæus in ignorance, who believes he is reciting the adventures of a friend, while he really gives his own History.

The Reader may look back to the beginning of the preceding book, for the explication of δειλον ημας, here mention'd by Homer.

This book does not fully comprehend the space of one day: It begins with the morning, and ends before night, so that the time here mention'd by the Poet, is the evening of the thirty ninth day.