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Eustathius expariates upon the conduct of these female servants of Penelope. Silence and a decent reserve (remarks that Author) is the ornament of the fair sex; levity and laughter betray them into an unguarded behaviour, and make them susceptible of wanton impressions. The Athenians, as Pausanias informs us, had a Temple sacred to Love and Venus the Whisperer. Venus was call'd the Whisperer (ψοθυρος) because they who there offer'd up their prayers apply'd their mouths to the ear of the statue of that Goddess, and whisper'd their petitions; an Intimation, that Women ought to govern their tongue, and not let it transgress either by loudness or loquacity. But this no ways affects the Ladies of Great Britain; they speak so well, they should never be silent.

Ulysses, Homer tells us, is almost provok'd to kill these females with his own hands: This has been imagin'd a thought unworthy an Heroe. The like objection has been made against Æneas in Virgil (Æneid; lib. 2. ver. 567.)

This whole passage is said to have been expung'd from Virgil by Tucca and Varius; for as Virgil there expresses it,

But the Objection is probably made with too great severity, both against Homer and Virgil: It is no disgrace to the best or bravest man, to be subject to such passions as betray him into no unworthy actions: A Heroe is not suppos'd to be insensible; he distinguishes himself as such, if he restrains them within the bounds of reason. Both Æneas and Ulysses are fir'd with a just indignation, and this is agreeable to human nature; but both of them proceed to no outragious action, and this shews that their passions are govern'd by superior reason. However this resentment of Ulysses is less liable to objection than that of Æneas: Ulysses subdues his indignation by the reflection of his own reason; but Virgil introduces a Machine to compose the spirit of Æneas:

It may be further added that the case is very different between Æneas and Ulysses. The persons whom Ulysses intends to punish are his subjects and servants, and such a punishment would be no more than an act of justice, as he is their Master and King; and we find in the sequel of the Odyssey that he actually inflicts it. It should therefore be thought an instance of Homer's judgment, in painting the disorders of these servants in such strong colours, that we may acknowledge the justice, when he afterwards brings them to punishment.

This in the original is a very bold expression, but Homer, to soften it, instances a comparison which reconciles us to it. Ennius has literally translated it, as Spondanus observes:

That is word for word,

The similitude it self is very expressive; as the mastiff barks to guard her young, so labours the soul of Ulysses in defence of his Son and Wife, Penelope and Telemachus. Dacier was afraid that the comparison could not be render'd with any beauty in the French tongue, and therefore has substituted another in the room of it, Son cœur rugissoit an dedans de luy, comme un Lion rugit autour d'une bergerie, où il ne sçauroit entrer. But however more noble the Lion may be than the Mastiff, it is evident that she utterly deviates from the allusion: The Mastiff rages in defence of her young, Ulysses of his Son Telemachus; but how is this represented by a Lion roaring round a fold, which he is not to defend, but destroy? We have therefore chosen to follow Homer in the more humble but more expressive similitude; and what will entirely reconcile us to it, is the great honour which was paid to Dogs by the Antients: they were kept as a piece of state by Princes and Heroes, and therefore a comparison drawn from them was held to be as noble as if it had been drawn from a Lion.

These two Verses are quoted by Plato in his Phædo, where he treats of the soul's immortality; He makes use of them to prove that Homer understood the soul to be uncompounded and distinct from the body. “If the soul, argues that Author, were a compounded substance, if it were harmony (as some philosophically assert) she would never act discordantly from the parts which compose it; but we see the contrary, we see the soul guide and govern the parts of which she her self is pretended to be composed; she resists, threatens and restrains our passions, our fears, avarice and anger: in short, the soul speaks to the body as to a substance of a nature entirely different from its own. Homer therefore evidently understood that the soul ought to govern and direct the passions, and that it is of a nature more divine than harmony.

This is undoubtedly very just reasoning: and there is an expression, observes Dacier, that bears the same import in the holy Scriptures: The heart of David smote him when he number'd the people. There is this difference; in Homer by heart is understood the corporeal substance, in the Scriptures the spiritual; but both make a manifest distinction between the soul and the body.

No passage in the whole Odyssey has fall'n under more ridicule than this comparison; Monsieur Perault is particularly severe upon it: Homer (says that Critic) compares Ulysses turning in his bed to a black-pudding broiling on a gridiron; whereas the truth is, he compares that Hero turning and tossing in his bed, burning with impatience to satisfy himself with the blood of the Suitors, to a man in sharp hunger preparing the entrails of a victim over a great fire; and the agitation represents the agitation of Ulysses. Homer compares not the thing, but the persons.

Boileau, in his notes upon Longinus, answers this objection. It is notorious that the belly of some animals was one of the most delicious dishes amongst the antients: that the sumex or sow's belly was boasted of for its excellence by the Romans, and forbidden by a sumptuary law as too voluptuous. Besides, the Greek word used to express a black-pudding was not invented in the days of Homer. Ogylby indeed thus renders it:

But you will ask, Is not the allusion mean at best, and does it not convey a low image? Monsieur Dacier answers in the negative, in his notes upon Aristotles's Poetics. The comparison is borrow'd from sacrifices which yielded blood and fat, and was therefore so far from being despicable, that it was look'd upon with veneration by antiquity. Lib. 1. of the Iliad.

The Cawls and the choicest morsels were the fat of the Victim, selected as the best part of it, to be offered to the Gods. We may find that the thought was noble in the oriental language, for the Author of Ecclesiast. makes use of it, 47. 2. As in the fat taken from the peace-offering, so was David chosen out of the children of Israel. And the same allusion which was used to represent the worth and excellence of David, could be no degradation to Ulysses.

But what is understood by the belly of the beast, full of fat and blood? Boileau is of opinion that those words denote the fat and the blood which are in those parts of an animal naturally: but he is in an error, as appears evidently from these lines, lib. 18. of the Odyssey.

Implentes sanguine & pinguedine, in cœnâ deponamus; a demonstration that Homer intends not the natural fat and blood of the animal.

There is excellent reasoning in this: If a friend whom we know to be wise and powerful, advises us, we are ready to follow his instructions; the divine Being gives us his council, and we refuse it. Monsieur Dacier observes that Epictetus had this passage in his view, and beautify'd his morality with it. “The protection of a Prince or Potentate (says that Author) gives us full tranquillity, and banishes from us all uneasy apprehension. We have an all-powerful Being for our Protector, and for our Father; and yet the knowledge of it is not sufficient to drive away our fears, inquietudes and discontents.”

What Homer further puts into the mouth of the Goddess of Wisdom is consonant to sacred verity, and agrees with the language of the holy Scripture; Psalm xxvii. 3. Tho' an host of men were laid against me, yet shall not my Heart be afraid.

The Poet almost in every book mentions the destruction of the Suitors by the single hand of Ulysses, to reconcile us to it by degrees, that we may not be shock'd at the great Catastrophe of the Poem as incredible: It is particularly judicious to insist upon it in this place in a manner so solemn, to prepare us for the approaching event. If the destruction of the Suitors should appear humanly improbable by being ascribed solely to Ulysses, it is at least reconcileable to divine probability, and becomes credible thro' the Intervention of a Goddess.

I doubt not but the Reader will be pleas'd with the beauty of this soliloquy. There is an assemblage of tender images and moving complaints, and yet they are such as betray no meanness of spirit: The lamentation of Penelope is the lamentation of a Queen and Heroine; she mourns, but it is with dignity. The Poet makes a good use of her sorrows, and they excellently sustain her character of persevering to elude the addresses of the Suitors, when she wishes even to die rather than to yield to them.

But I confess the inserting so many particularities of the daughters of Pandarus, &c. greatly lessens the pathetic of this speech.

The antients (says Dacier) were persuaded that some persons were carried away by storms and whirlwinds. I would rather imagine such expressions to be entirely figurative and poetical; it is probable that what gave occasion to these fictions might be no more than the sudden deaths of some persons, and their disappearance was ascrib'd, in the language of Poetry, to storms and whirlwinds. The Orientals delighted in such bold figures. Job xxvii. 21. The east wind carrieth him away, and as a storm hurrieth him out of his place. And Isaiah xli. 16. The wind shall carry them away, and the whirlwind shall scatter them.

Monsieur Dacier observes upon this passage; Venus is said to feed these Infants with wine, milk, and honey; that is, she nursed them in their infancy, with plenty and abundance. For this is the import of the expression: a land flowing with milk and honey means a land of the greatest fertility, as is evident from the writings of Moses. So the prophet. Butter and honey shall he eat, till he knows how to refuse the evil and chuse the good; that is, till the age of discretion.

It may seem that Homer ascribes improper gifts to this Goddess; Wisdom is the portion of Minerva, Beauty of Venus, why then are they here ascrib'd to Juno? Spondanus calls this an insolvable difficulty. Dacier explains it by saying, that the beauty of Princesses is different from that of persons of an inferior station, their beauty consists in a majesty that is every way great and noble, and strikes with awe, very different from the little affectations and formal softnesses of inferior beauty; the former kind is the gift of Venus to the lower part of the fair sex, the latter is bestow'd on Princesses and Queens, by Juno the Regent of the skies.

It is not evident what is meant by these Princesses being carried away by the Harpies: Eustathius thinks that they wander'd from their own country, and fell into the power of cruel governesses, whose severities the Poet ascribes to the εριννυες, or Furies. Dacier imagines, that these two Princesses having seen the unhappy fate of their sister Aëdon (who was married to Zethus, and slew her own son) fear'd a like calamity; and dreading marriage, retir'd to some distant solitude, where never being heard of, it gave room for the fiction. It must be allow'd that the thought excellently agrees with the wishes of Penelope: These Princesses were taken away at the point of their marriage; Penelope believes herself to be in the same condition. and wishes to be lost rather than submit to second nuptials. This Speech has a further effect; we find Penelope reduc'd to the utmost exigency, she has no further subterfuge: the Poet therefore judiciously paints this exigency in the strongest colours, to shew the necessity of unravelling the intrigue of the Poem in the conclusion of the Odyssey.

This little circumstance is not without a good effect: it shews that the whole soul of Penelope was possess'd with the image of Ulysses. Homer adds, such as he was when he sail'd to Troy; which is inserted to take off our wonder that she should not discover him; this Ulysses in disguise is not like the Ulysses she formerly knew, and now delineates in her imagination. Eustathius.

This is the morning of the fortieth day; for part of the eighteenth book, and the whole nineteenth, and so far of the twentieth book, contain no more time than the evening of the thirty ninth day.

I was at a loss for an explication of this line, 'till I found it in Eustathius; for why should Ulysses imagine that Penelope knew him to be Ulysses, after a speech that express'd so much concern for his absence? Ulysses, having only heard the voice, not distinguish'd the words of her lamentation, mistakes the tears of Penelope for tears of joy; he suspects that the discovery is made by Euryclea or Telemachus; that they have told her the truth to give her comfort; and fears lest in the transport of her joy she should act something that would betray him to the Suitors, and prevent his designs: He therefore immediately withdraws, and makes a pray'r to Heav'n for a sign to re-assure his hopes, that he may proceed with confidence to their destruction.

The construction in the Greek is ungrammatical, for after Ξευ πατερ in the singular, the Poet immediately adds ει μ' εθελοντες in the plural number; τα λοιπα are imply'd, says Eustathius, so that θεοι is understood, which rectifies the construction.

The Reader will fully understand the import of this Prayer, from the nature of Omens, and the notions of them amongst the Antients: If, says Ulysses, my prayer is heard, let there be a voice from within the palace to certify me of it; and immediately a voice is heard, O Jupiter, may this day be the last to the Suitors! Such speeches as fell accidentally from any person were held ominous, and one of the antient ways of divination: Ulysses understands it as such, and accepts the Omen. It was in use among the Romans, as appears from Tully of divination, when P. Æmilius was going to war with Perseus King of the Macedonians, he found his little daughter in tears: O Father, says she, Perseus is dead! meaning her little dog named Perseus; Æmilius immediately reply'd, O Daughter I embrace the Omen, applying it to Perseus King of the Macedonians; who was afterwards conquer'd by him, and died a Captive in Rome. The same practice was us'd by the Hebrews, it was call'd Bath Kol; this is an instance of it: Two Rabbies desiring to see Samuel a Babylonish doctor, let us follow said they, the hearing of Bath Kol; travelling therefore near a school, they heard a boy reading these words out of Samuel xxv. 1. And Samuel died. They observ'd it, and found that their Friend was dead. The Sortes Virgilianæ afterwards were much of this kind.

The construction in the Greek is ungrammatical, for after Ξευ πατερ in the singular, the Poet immediately adds ει μ' εθελοντες in the plural number; τα λοιπα δαιμονια are imply'd, says Eustathius, so that θεοι is understood, which rectifies the construction.

The Reader will fully understand the import of this Prayer, from the nature of Omens, and the notions of them amongst the Antients: If, says Ulysses, my prayer is heard, let there be a voice from within the palace to certify me of it; and immediately a voice is heard, O Jupiter, may this day be the last to the Suitors! Such speeches as fell accidentally from any person were held ominous, and one of the antient ways of divination: Ulysses understands it as such, and accepts the Omen. It was in use among the Romans, as appears from Tully of divination, when P. Æmilius was going to war with Perseus King of the Macedonians, he found his little daughter in tears: O Father, says she, Perseus is dead! meaning her little dog named Perseus; Æmilius immediately reply'd, O Daughter I embrace the Omen, applying it to Perseus King of the Macedonians; who was afterwards conquer'd by him, and died a Captive in Rome. The same practice was us'd by the Hebrews, it was call'd Bath Kol; this is an instance of it: Two Rabbies desiring to see Samuel a Babylonish doctor, let us follow said they, the hearing of Bath Kol; travelling therefore near a school, they heard a boy reading these words out of Samuel xxv. 1. And Samuel died. They observ'd it, and found that their Friend was dead. The Sortes Virgilianæ afterwards were much of this kind.

It was this circumstance, of thunder bursting from a serene sky, that made it ominous: it was noted as such amongst the Romans in the books of the Augurs; and Horace brings it as a proof against the opinions of Epicurus.

Virgil likewise speaks of thunder as ominous, when Anchises saw the lambent flame round the head of Iulus: He prays to Jupiter and immediately it thunders.

The Stoics drew an argument from thunder from a serene air against the Doctrines of Epicurus, who taught that the Gods had no regard of human affairs; for they concluded such thunder to be præter-natural, and an argument of a divine Providence.

This little particularity shews us the great profusion of the Suitors, who employ'd twelve mills to find them bread. There is a particular energy in the word επερρωοντο; it denotes the great labour and assiduity of these people in preparing the bread, and consequently the great waste of the Suitors. It likewise preserves a piece of antiquity, that Kings formerly had mills in their palaces to provide for their families, and that these mills were attended by women; I suppose because preparing bread was an houshold care, and therefore fell to the lot of female servants.

This speech of Telemachus may seem to be wanting in filial respect, as it appears to condemn the conduct of his mother: But (remarks Eustathius) the contrary is to be gathered from it. His blame is really a commendation; it shews that her affection was so great for Ulysses, that she receiv'd every vagrant honourably, who deceiv'd her with false news about him; and that other persons who brought no tydings of him, tho' men of greater worth, were less acceptable.

It was customary for Kings and Magistrates to go early every morning into the public assemblies, to distribute justice, and take care of public affairs: but this assembly contributing nothing to the action of the Odyssey, the Poet passes it over in a cursory manner, without any enlargement. Eustathius.

The table was not antiently cover'd with linen, but carefully cleans'd with wet sponges. Thus Arrian, αρον τας τραπεζας, σπογγισον: And Martial:

They made use of no napkins to wipe their hands, but the soft and fine part of the bread, which they called απομαγδαλιαι, which afterwards they threw to the dogs; this custom is mention'd in the Odyssey, lib. 10.

The morsel in the translation, and the μειλιγματα in the Greek, mean these pieces of bread, or απομαγδαλιαι, with which the Antients wip'd their hands after eating, and then threw to the dogs.

This was the last day of one month, and the first of the following: The Greek months were lunar, the first day of every month was a day of great solemnity; and it was consecrated to Apollo, the author and fountain of light. Ulysses had said, lib. 14. v. 186.

This, says Solon in Plutarch, means that Ulysses shall return on the last day of the month precisely; and here we find it verify'd. Ulysses discovers himself upon this day, and kills the Suitors: By his return, in the foregoing period, is meant his discovery; for he was return'd when he made that assertion to Eumæus. It is therefore probable, that the above recited verse was rightly interpreted by Solon.

To understand this passage, it is necessary to remember that Melanthius and Philætius fed their flocks and herds in Cephalenia, an adjacent Island, under the dominion of Ulysses; but living in different parts of it, they are brought over in separate vessels, by different ferrymen, πορθμηες, as Homer expresses it.

This is the reasoning of Philætius: Kings are in a peculiar manner the care of the Gods; and if the Gods exempt not Kings from calamities, how can inferior persons (says Dacier) expect to be exempted, or complain in the day of adversity? But I persuade my self the words have a deeper sense, and mean Ulysses; “Well may vagrants suffer, when Kings, such as Ulysses, are not free from afflictions.

These words are to be ascribed to the excess of sorrow which Philætius feels for the sufferings of Ulysses; for they certainly transgress the bounds of reason. But if we consider the state of Theology in Homer's time, the sentence will appear less offensive; How can Jupiter (says Philætius) who is our father, throw his children into such an abyss of misery? Thou, oh Jove, hast made us, yet hast no compassion when we suffer.” It is no easy matter to answer this argument from the heathen Theology, and no wonder therefore if it confounds the reason of Philætius; but we who have certain hopes of a future state, can readily solve the difficulty: that state will be a time of retribution; it will amply recompense the good man for all his calamities, or as Milton expresses,

It may be observ'd in general that this introduction of Philætius and his speech, so warm in the cause of Ulysses, is inserted here with admirable judgment; The Poet intends to make use of his assistance in the destruction of the Suitors; he therefore brings him in giving Ulysses full assurance of his fidelity; so that when that Heroe reveals himself to him, he does not depart from his cautious character, being before certify'd of his honesty.

I will only add that Philætius is not to be look'd upon as a common servant, but as an officer of state and dignity: and whatever has been said in these annotations concerning Eumæus may be apply'd to Philætius; he is here call'd ορχαμος ανδρων, a title of honour, and Ulysses promises to marry him into his own family in the sequel of the Odyssey; consequently he is a personage worthy to be an actor in Epic Poetry.

The words in the original are ιδιον ως ενοησα, and they are very differently explain'd by Dacier and Eustathius: ιδιον, τουτ' εστιν ιδροσα, ηγωνιασα, “I have sweated and been in an agony at the thought of the severe dispensations of Jupiter;” this is the interpretation of Eustathius. Dacier takes ιδιον to be an adjective, and then it must be connected with the preceding period.

Ut privatim, vel domestico admonitus sum exemplo, for so we may render ιδιον, meaning Ulysses; then the sense will be this; Jupiter, tho' thou hast made us, thou hast no compassion upon mankind, thou castest us into evils and misery; as I have learn'd by a private or domestic instance, namely in the person of Ulysses. If my judgment were of any weight, I should recommend this interpretation rather than that of Eustathius, which seems to be a forced one, and I remember no instance of this nature in Homer; but the preference is submitted to the Reader's decision.

It may be ask'd why Amphinomus gives this interpretation to the Prodigy? and why might not the Eagle denote the Suitors, and the Pigeon Telemachus? No doubt but such an interpretation would have been specious, but contrary to the rules of Augury. The Eagle is the King of birds, and must therefore of necessity denote the chief personage, and consequently could only be apply'd to Ulysses, or Telemachus. Amphinomus thus interprets it, and the Suitors acquiesce in his interpretation.

The Antients, says Eustathius, observe that this is the only place where the Suitors offer any Sacrifice throughout the whole Odyssey, and that there is no instance at all, that they make any prayer to the Gods. But is it evident from this place, that this is a Sacrifice? 'tis true the sacrificial term of ιερευον is mention'd; but perhaps that word may not denote a Sacrifice; for ιερεια, tho' it primarily signifies the flesh of animals offer'd to the Gods, yet in a less proper acceptation implies the flesh of all animals indifferently. Thus Athenæus, τροφην, την των νεογνων ιερειων, which must be render'd, the flesh of young animals. Thus, Lib. 7. ευσηπτοτερα τα νυκτωρ θυομενα ιερεια, the flesh of animals that are kill'd by night soonest putrify; and Galen uses ζων, and ιερειον, for an animal indiscriminately. The reason is, because originally no animal was ever slain but some part of it was offer'd to the Gods, and in this sense every ζων was ιερειον. If we consult the context in Homer, it must be allowed that there is no other word but ιερευον that distinguishes this from a common repast, thro' the whole description; and if that word will bear a remote signification, as ιερειον does, I should conclude, that this is no Sacrifice. Nay, if it should be found that ιερευον implies of necessity a religious act, yet it will not prove that this is more than a customary meal, since the Antients at all entertainments made Libations to the Gods; What may seem to strengthen this conjecture is that the Poet immediately adds, that the Greeks, Αχαιοι, sacrific'd in the grove of Apollo; without mentioning that the Suitors partook in the sacrifice: nay they seem to be feasting in the palace, while the Greeks are offering in the grove.

This circumstance is not inserted unnecessarily; the table is suitable to the disguise of Ulysses, and it might have created a jealousy in the Suitors if Telemachus had us'd him with greater distinction.

The Expression in Greek is remarkable:

Some tells us that there is an herb frequent in the island of Sardinia, which by tasting distorts the muscles, that a man seems to laugh while he is under a painful agony; and from hence the Sardinian laugh became a Proverb, to signify a laugh which conceal'd an inward pain. Others refer the expression to an antient custom of the Sardinians (a colony of the Lacedemonians) it is pretended that upon a certain festival every year, they not only slew all their prisoners of war, but also all the old men that were above seventy, and oblig'd these miserable wretches to laugh while they underwent the severity of torment. Either of these reasons fully explains the meaning of the Σαρδονιος γελως; and shews it to denote an exterior laugh, and an inward pain. I am inclin'd to prefer the former interpretation, not only as it appears most natural, but because Virgil seems to understand it in that sense, for he alludes to the above-mention'd quality of the Sardinian Herbs, Eclogue 7. v. 41.

The Reader may observe that Ctesippus breaks out into buffoonry, and the Suitors frequently are guilty of it in other parts of the Odyssey: These levities have been proscrib'd by the Critics as too low, and unworthy of Epic Poetry: but Homer adapts himself to his characters, he paints ridiculous, men in ridiculous colours; tho' I will not say but such characters are more proper for Comedy than Epic Poetry. If ever they are pardonable, they are in Homer, who puts these low pleasantries into the mouths of drunkards and debauchees; such persons being generally men of no worth or serious deportment.

It is observable that Telemachus swears by the sorrows of his father; an expression, in my judgment, very noble, and at the same time, fuil of a filial tenderness. This was an antient custom amongst the Orientals, as appears from an oath not unlike it in Genesis xxxi. 53. And Jacob sware by the fear of his father Isaac.

But how is this speech to be understood? for how can Telemachus persuade his mother to marry, when he knows that Ulysses is return'd? There is a conceal'd and an apparent meaning in the expression. Telemachus, observes Eustathius, swears that he will not hinder his mother from taking an husband, but he means Ulysses: the words therefore are ambiguous, and the ambiguity deceives the Suitors, who believe that by this oath Telemachus obliges himself not only not to hinder, but promote the intended nuptials.

It is in the Greek, They laugh'd with other mens cheeks. There are many explications of this passage: Eustathius imagines it to denote a feign'd and pretended laughter. Erasmus explains it, non libenter neque ex animo ridere, sed ita ridere quasi non tuis, sed alienis maxillis rideas. But if we consult the conduct of the Suitors, a contrary interpretation will seem to be necessary: for this laughter of the Suitors appears to be very real, and from the heart. Homer calls it ασβεστον excessive, inextinguish'd; and again, ηδυ γελασσαν, or they laugh'd with joy, suaviter riserunt; which expressions denote a real and unfeign'd laughter. But how will the words be brought to bear this construction? Very naturally: They laugh'd as if they had borrow'd their cheeks, as if their cheeks were not their own, and consequently they were not afraid to use them with licence and excess; (such persons as the Suitors having no regard for any thing that belongs to another.)

Horace makes use of the same expression,

And likewise Valerius:

This is the opinion of Dacier: But there are some lines in the Greek that make it doubtful; for immediately after the expression of laughing with other mens cheeks, Homer adds, that their eyes flow'd with tears, and sorrow seiz'd their Souls. 'Tis true, Homer describes the Suitors under an alienation of mind, and a sudden distraction occasion'd by Minerva; and from hence we may gather the reason why they are tost by so sudden a transition to contrary passions, from laughter to tears; this moment they laugh extravagantly, and the next they weep with equal excess: persons in such a condition being liable to such vicissitudes.

This is to be look'd upon as a prodigy, the belief of which was established in the old world, and consequently, whether true or false, may be allow'd to have a place in Poetry. See Book XII Annot. 32.

In the following speech of Theoclymenus there is a beautiful enthusiasm of Poetry; but how are we to understand that Theoclymenus sees these wonders, when they are invisible to all the Suitors? Theoclymenus was a Prophet, and speaks of things future as present; it is the eye of the Prophet that sees these events, and the language of prophecy that speaks of them as present. Thus when he says he sees the palace red with blood, and throng'd with ghosts; he anticipates the event, which is verify'd in the approaching death of the Suitors.

Eustathius is of opinion that by the last words of this speech Theoclymenus intends to express an Eclipse of the sun; this being the day of the new moon, when eclipses happen. Others understand by it the death of the Suitors, as when we say the sun is forever gone down upon the dead: Theocritus uses that expression, θνησκοντι παντα δεδυκειν ηλιον. Homer means by it, that the Suitors shall never more behold the light of the sun.

So far Eustathius. It may be added that the Roman Poets used the same expression in this latter signification. Thus Catullus.

Either of these expositions makes the passage intelligible.

The Suitors taking the prediction of Theoclymenus literally, viz. I see you all involv'd in darkness, think him distracted, not conceiving his words to be a prophecy; and therefore by way of derision command him to be carry'd into a place of publick resort, that he may convince himself it is full day. Eustathius imagines, they intended to reproach him with drunkenness, because it makes all objects appear indistinct and different from the reality: He quotes a pleasant expression of Anacharsis to this purpose: A certain person telling him at an entertainment that he had married a very ugly woman; I think so too, replies Anacharsis; but fill me a Bumper, that I may make her a beauty.

Eustathius explains the answer of Theoclymenus to be both pleasant and serious: “I have eyes, and therefore have no occasion for a guide to lead me from the palace; I have ears, and therefore hear that my absence is desir'd; I have both my feet, and therefore am able to go away without giving others the trouble to assist me; and I have an understanding well inform'd, by which I see the evil that threatens the Suitors, and haste away to avoid it.

It is evident from this passage that the name of Sicily is very antient, and Eustathius makes the following remark upon it: That the reason why the Poet never mentions this word in describing the wandrings of Ulysses which happen chiefly near Sicily, is to make his Poetry more surprising and marvellous; and that the more to countenance those fabulous relations and miracles which he has told to the Pheacians, he chuses to speak of it by names less known, and less familiar to his Readers. Dacier observes from Bochart, that this island received the name of Sicily from the Phœnicians, long before the birth of Homer, or the war of Troy: Siclul in their language signifies perfection; they call'd it the Isle of perfection, because it held the chief rank amongst all the islands in the Mediterranean: “It is the largest and best island in all our seas,” says Strabo. It has likewise been thought to have taken its name from the Syrian language, namely from Segol, or Segul, a Raisin. For long before the vine was known in Afric, Sicily was famous for its Vineyards, and from thence the Carthaginians imported their raisins and wines. Homer celebrates this island for its vines in the 9th Odyssey.

It is likewise probable from this passage, that the Sicilians traded in slaves; for their lands were fertil, and they merchandiz'd for them to manure the ground. I should rather think that they were remarkable for their barbarity to their slaves; the Suitors speaking by way of terror to intimidate Theoclymenus; and the expression seems to bear the same import with that concerning Echetus, we will send him to Echetus, or the Sicilians, who will use him with the utmost cruelty.

The word in the original is διφρος, and signifies a large seat that would hold two persons, from δις φερειν.

This circumstance (observes Eustathius) is not inserted in vain: the Poet describes Penelope thus seated, that she might see and hear the actions and designs of the Suitors, in order to form her conduct according to the occasion: Now for instance, she perceives their insolence risen to such an height, that she dares make no further delay, but immediately proclaims herself the prize of the best Archer: And this naturally connects the story with the next book.

This book is entitled Τοξου θεσις, or the proposition of the Bow: This action of Penelope has given occasion of raillery both to modern and antient Critics; they insinuate that she propos'd this exercise of the bow to try the strength of her gallants, determining to have regard to that single qualification in the choice of her husband.

They interpret νευρην εντανυσαι into a sense very contrary to the character of Penelope. 'Tis true, other Authors have directly charged her with Inchastity, and affirm that she had a son named Pan, because all the Suitors had a share in him. Lycophron calls her

It is the exercise of the Bow that has occasion'd these imputations; for none of Homer's Commentators have given the reason why she proposes that exercise in particular; and therefore seeing no reason for it, they have invented a false one, and give the story a ridiculous air: I flatter my self that a better solution may be found out, and a reason given why Penelope proposes this exercise in particular, and preferably to any other.

We are to remember that this day was sacred to Apollo; this is evident from the preceding book, where the Ithacans offer an Hecatomb in a grove consecrated to that Deity: The diversion suits the day, the exercise of the bow being proper to be practis'd on the festival of that Deity, who is the patron of it. Several of the titles of Apollo are derived from it; Εκαεργος, Εκατηβολος, αργψυροτοξος. It is strange that this necessary observation should escape the notice of all Commentators.

If any thing further were wanting to reconcile us to the conduct of Penelope in proposing the Bow, an instance almost parallel to it might be produc'd from History. When Cambyses was preparing to make war against Æthiopia, the King of that country bent his great bow with two fingers in the presence of the Persian Ambassadors, and unbending it again, deliver'd it to them with these words: That when the Persians could do the like, they might hope to conquer the Æthiopians. There is nothing more absurd in the delivery of the bow to the Suitors by Penelope, than in the same act of the Æthiopian King to the Persian Ambassadors.

The numerous particularities and digressive Histories crowded together in the beginning of this book have not escaped censure. The Poet very circumstantially describes the key, and the make of it, as likewise the bow and quiver, then tells us who gave it to Ulysses; at the mention of the donor's name he starts into a little History of him, and returns not in many lines to his subject; he then no less circumstantially describes the chamber, and the frame of the door, he descends to every particular of Penelope's opening it, and every step and motion she takes till she produces the bow before the Suitors. This conduct has been liable to objection, as made up of particulars of small importance, to no propos'd end. But notwithstanding, every circumstance is not without its effect and beauty, and nothing better shews the power of the Poet's diction. So great a Critic as Vida admir'd this very passage. Poetic. lib. 2.

The Poet adapts his verse to the nature of his subject; the description loiters, to express the studied delay of Penelope, and her unwillingness to bring affairs to a decision. However I will not promise that these digressions and antient histories will please every Reader; the passage is so far from being faulty, that it is really an instance of Homer's judgment; yet every thing that is not a fault, is not a beauty. The case is, Penelope proposes the tryal of the bow, merely to protract time from the nuptials; she is slow in producing it for the same reason; and Homer, to paint this slowness in a lively manner, lets the subject of the Poem stand still, and wanders out of the way, that he may not come too soon to the end of his journey.

It has been disputed whether Messene here was a city or a country; Strabo affirms it to be a country, lib. 8. It was a port of Laconia, under the dominion of Menelaus in the time of the war of Troy; and then (continues that Author) the city named Messene was not built. Pausanias is of the same opinion, lib. 4. c. 1. “Before the battle of Leuctra between the Thebans and Lacedæmonians, it is my judgment that there was no City call'd Messene; this is evident from the words of Homer,

Now Ortilochus lived in Pheræ, a city of Messenia, and consequently Ulysses and Iphitus meeting at his Palace in Messenia, Homer must mean the country, not the city. That Ortilochus lived in Pheræ, appears from the third Odyssey.

This Iphitus was the son of Eurytus mention'd in the eighth book, famous for his skill in archery.

So that even this digression is not foreign to the purpose: The Poet largely describes the bow, being to make great use of it in the sequel of the Odyssey: he shews it was originally in the possession of Eurytus, the most famous archer in the world: Nay, this very digression may appear to be absolutely necessary; it being requisite to describe that bow, as of no common excellence and strength, which was not to be drawn by any of the Suitors; and at the same time it sets off the strength of the Heroe of the Poem, who alone is able to bend it.

It has been observ'd in a former annotation, that such ravages or pyracies were not only lawful but honourable amongst the Antients; why then is Ulysses here sent to redemand the spoils made by the Messenians? Dacier answers that such inroads were not allowable except in open War; she means between Greeks and Greeks; for they themselves exercis'd such pyracies with impunity against other nations.

Homer very solemnly condemns this action of Hercules in slaying Iphitus; and some Authors (remarks Eustathius) defend him by saying, he was seiz'd with madness, and threw Iphitus down from the top of his Palace; but this is contrary to Homer, and to the sentiment of those who write that Hercules was deliver'd as a slave to Omphale, for the expiation of the murder of Iphitus.

But what chiefly wants explication is the expression

That is, he paid no reverence to his Table. The Table was held sacred by the Antients, by means of which, honour was paid to the God of Friendship and Hospitality: it was therefore a crime to dishonour it by any indecent behaviour. To this purpose Juvenal:

The statutes of the Gods were rais'd upon the tables, they were consecrated by placing on them salt, which was always esteem'd holy, and by offering libations to the Gods from them: the Table therefore is call'd in Plutarch φιλιων Θεων βωμον, και ξενιων, the altar of the Gods of Friendship and Hospitality; and therefore to have eaten at the same table, was esteem'd an inviolable obligation of friendship: And τραπεζαν παραβαινειν, to transgress against the table, a breach of the laws of hospitality, and the blackest of crimes. I will only add that it was customary upon making an alliance of hospitality to give mutual Tokens; thus Ulysses here presents Iphitus with a sword and spear; Iphitus Ulysses with a bow. And the producing these tokens was a recognition of the covenant of hospitality, between the persons themselves, and their descendents in following generations.

This description presents us with a noble image; Homer introduces it to shew the largeness and strength of the door, which resounds as it opens. This exalts a trifling circumstance into sublimity and dignity, and renders a common action poetical; not unlike that in the 24th of the Iliad.

The Bow recalls to her mind the thought of her husband, and this raises her sorrows. The least trifle that once belong'd to a belov'd person, is sufficient to cast a cloud over the soul, which naturally falls in a show'r of tears: And no doubt the exercise which the Suitors are to practise with the Bow, upon which her future fate depends, aggravates her sorrows; she weeps not only for the loss of Ulysses, but at the thought that she is ready to enter upon second nuptials, contrary to her inclinations,

This speech is not without greater obscurity than is usual in so clear a writer as Homer. M. Dacier has done it justice, and clearly opened the sense of it in her paraphrase. “Surely, says Telemachus, Jupiter has disorder'd my understanding: I see my mother, wise as she is, preparing to leave the palace, and enter upon a second marriage; and yet in these melancholy circumstances, I think of nothing but diverting my self, and being an idle spectator of this exercise of the Bow: No, no, this is not to be suffer'd: You (the Suitors) use your utmost efforts to rob me of Penelope, I will therefore use mine to retain her: A woman the most excellent in any nation. But why do I praise her? you know her worth; use therefore no pretext to defer the tryal of the Bow, that we may come to an issue; I will try the Bow with you; and if I succeed, then I will retain her as the prize of the conquest; then she shall not be obliged to second nuptials: Nor will Penelope abandon a son, who emulating his father, is (like him) able to bear the prize from so many Antagonists.

This is the true meaning of the words of Telemachus; the diction indeed is somewhat embarrass'd, and the connections a little obscure; but this is done by the Poet, to express the disorder and hurry of mind in Telemachus, who fears for the fate of Penelope: Therefore the connection of the Periods is interrupted, to represent Telemachus starting thro' eagerness of spirit from thought to thought, without order or regularity.

It is not apparent at the first view why Ulysses prohibits Telemachus from drawing the Bow; but Eustathius gives sufficient reason for this conduct: It would have defeated his whole design, and render'd the death of the Suitors impracticable; for Telemachus had declar'd that he would retain Penelope, if he succeeded in the exercise of the Bow; and this of necessity would create an immediate contest between that Heroe and the Suitors, and bring matters unseasonably to extremity. The same Author assigns a second reason; Ulysses fears lest Telemachus by bending the Bow should make it more supple and flexible, and therefore commands him to desist, lest it should be drawn by the Suitors; besides, if he had drawn it, it would have raisd an emulation amongst them, and they would have apply'd the utmost of their abilities not to be outdone by so young a person as Telemachus; but his despair to effect it, makes them less sollicitous, the tryal being equally unsuccessful to them all.

It may also be observ'd that there is a very happy address made to Telemachus by Homer; He shews us that he could have drawn it, but desists in obedience to Ulysses: Thus the Poet has found out a way to give Telemachus the Honour of the Victory without obtaining it; and at the same time shews the superior wisdom of Ulysses, who restrains his son in the heat of his attempt; and makes him by a happy presence of mind at once foresee the danger, and prevent it.

Antinous makes this proposition, that every person may try his skill without confusion. Perhaps it is propos'd by Antinous by way of Omen, the right hand being reckon'd fortunate: But however that be, it is very evident that in the entertainments of the Antients the cup was deliver'd towards the right hand: hence δεξιωσις came to signify to drink towards the right hand, and Athenæus thus interprets this passage in the first of the Iliad.

Which, remarks that author, signifies εδεξιουστο προπινοντες εαυτοις ταις δεξιαις. And there is express mention made of this practice, Lib. 1. v. 597. of the Iliad.

That is, beginning from the right hand, as the scholiast rightly interprets it, Vulcan deliver'd the bowl to all the Gods.

This observation explains various passages in many antient authors, as well as in the Iliad and Odyssey: The Custom indeed is not of any great importance, but it is at least a curiosity, and valuable because antient. I doubt not but the bowl out of which these persons drank, would by Antiquaries be thought inestimable; and the possession of an antient bowl is not quite so valuable as the knowledge of an antient custom.

The word in the original is θυοσκοος, a person who makes predictions from victims or from the smoke of the sacrifice. This Leiodes, the Poet tells us, sate next to the bowl; the reason of it, saith Eustathius, was because the Suitors fear'd left poison should be mix'd in it, and they thought themselves safe thro' his care and inspection: but it may perhaps be a better reason to say, that he sate there in discharge of his office as a prophet, to make libations to the Gods; as was customary at the beginning and end of all entertainments.

The Poet adds that this Prophet was placed at the extremity of the apartment; the reason may be because he was an enemy to the insolence of the Suitors, and therefore withdrew from their conversation; or perhaps the word is inserted only to shew that his place was the first (for Eustathius explains μυχοιτατος by πρωτος and ενσυτατος) and therefore he was the most proper person to begin the experiment, that the rest might make tryal according as they were seated, successively; and what makes this the more probable is, that the propination always began from the most honourable person.

There is in these words a full and clear prediction of the destruction of the Suitors by the Bow of Ulysses: but what follows, when the Prophet comes to explain himself, renders it ambiguous. Better indeed to die, &c. The next line is very remarkable for the distinction it makes between θημος and ψυχη, soul and spirit: The Reader may turn to the note on Lib. 23. v. 92, 122. of the Iliad; and that on Lib. 11. v. 743. of the Odyssey, where an account is given of the notion of the Antients concerning this division. I shall only here add a passage in St. Paul to the Hebrews, which did not then occur to me, that remarkably falls in with it. The word of God is quick and powerful, and sharper than a two-edged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of Soul and Spirit. Heb. iv. 12.

This Leiodes falls by the sword of Ulysses in the next book; but is it not injustice to take away the life of a Person who is here describ'd as a man of virtue, detesting the actions of the Suitors, and dignify'd with Prophecy? It is easy to answer this objection; he is one of the Suitors to Penelope, as appears from his trying the Bow amongst the rest of them, in order to obtain her in marriage, and consequently he is involv'd in the general crime: This distinguishes his case from that of Medon and Phemius, whom Ulysses spares, it appearing that they made no pretensions to the bed of Penelope, whereas Leiodes endeavours to marry the Queen, which single act would exclude Ulysses from his own bed and dominions. Besides, if we would escape the punishment of wicked men, we must not only detest their crimes, but conversation.

This passage has been egregiously misunderstood, and it has been imagin'd that this unguent is to anoint the limbs of the Suitors to make them more supple, after the manner of the Wrestlers who observ'd that custom; but it is very evident that τοξον is to be understood in the Greek, and that it is the Bow, not the Limbs of the Suitors, that is to be anointed. Eustathius thus fully explains it: The lard is brought to make the Bow pliant, they chafe it before the fire that the particles of it may enter the pores of the Bow and render it flexible. But Eustathsus falls into an error about the seat that is brought by Melanthius: he imagines the Suitors sate while they drew the Bow, that they might be upon a level with the ringlets which were fix'd upon the ground; whereas in reality the seat is brought, that they may sit while they chafe the Bow. Homer himself says, when Leiodes endeavours to draw it, that he stood up, ανιστατο, and again,

But how is this to be reconcil'd with the conduct of Ulysses, who is directly affirm'd to sit while he draws it?

That circumstance is inserted to shew the great strength and dexterity of Ulysses, who is able to draw it in that disadvantageous posture: the Poet in every incident maintains his superiority.

It is wonderful how exactly the Poet observes the distribution of time; he distinctly marks the action of every day, and allots a proper space to every action. In this place the Poem goes forward while Ulysses withdraws to engage the assistance of Philætius and Eumæus. The Suitors are amus'd and employ'd about the Bow, while Ulysses steals away from their observation, and returns without raising their jealousy. The Poet likewise manages the time of the discovery of Ulysses very judiciously; tho' he knew the fidelity of Eumæus and Philætius, yet he trusts them not with the knowledge of his Person, till the very hour of execution; agreeable to the general character of his cautious nature and profound secrecy. But then is not this an imputation to Penelope, that he should chuse to discover himself to these two persons, rather than to his Queen? The answer is, There was a necessity for his discovery to the former, but none to the latter; he wants their assistance in the future engagement, and makes good use of it; whereas a discovery made to the Queen could have been of no advantage, and might possibly have prov'd detrimental; besides, this is a season that requires expedition; and we find Ulysses complies with it, and is very concise in the discovery and interview with Philætius and Eumæus. The Poet therefore reserves the discovery of Ulysses to Penelope to a time of more leisure, that he may dwell upon it more largely, and beautify his Poem with so essential an ornament with greater solemnity.

Aristotle treating of the different sort of Remembrances, Chap. 17. of his Poetics, divides them into two kinds, natural or adventitious; the former sort is simple and without art, which Poets use for want of invention; as for instance, when they bring about the discovery of a person by some natural mark or token upon the body: The latter are either marks upon the body, or scars occasion'd by some accident, or tokens distinct from the body, such as the Casket, &c. which Plautus and Terence use in the discovery of several persons in their Comedies: Of this latter kind is this scar of Ulysses; it is an adventitious remembrance, and these remembrances (continues Aristotle) may be used with more or less art: Thus in the case of this wound of Ulysses, it is us'd by Homer in a different way: Euryclea, Lib. 19. describes it accidentally; Ulysses here shews it to Eumæus and Philætius voluntarily; and it is certain that all those marks which a Poet deably and deliberately uses to establish any verity, have less ingenuity than those which produce their effects undeably and casually, and consequently the remembrance in the nineteenth Odyssey is more ingenious than the second discovery. The reason is, it shews no ingenuity to have recourse to such marks, when we have an intention to make the discovery: it causes no surprize nor variety, neither is it produc'd by any art or invention: On the contrary, the other in the nineteenth book arises from the subject, and not from the fancy of the Poet only. But, says Dacier, when Aristotle affirms that this present remembrance wants ingenuity, we are not yet to imagine that he condemns it; for it is a remembrance made by necessity. Ulysses has not opportunity to wait till the discovery is made accidentally, as in the nineteenth Book; he is absolutely compelled to make it deably, to engage Eumæus and Philætius in his cause, by plainly proving to them that he was the real Ulysses. If therefore that Heroe shews less les art in the manner of the remembrance, he shews more wisdom in accommodating his conduct to the opportunity, and using the present conjuncture advantageously, to bring about his own re-establishment. I will only further observe the judgment of Homer in making this discovery with the utmost brevity, concluding it in the compass of two verses: he had before enlarg'd upon the wound, and the reader is already fully instructed in the story: There is likewise another reason that requires conciseness; the urgency of the time demands it, for Ulysses and Eumæus could not be long in conference without observation, and raising the jealousy of the Suitors.

This is a very necessary injunction: Ulysses fears not only left any of the Suitors should make his escape but also lest any of the women who were friends to the Suitors should give information to their partisans abroad, and introduce them to their assistance. Eustathius.

No doubt but Eurymachus misrepresents his real sentiments, when he makes the loss of Penelope of little importance; but his conduct is an exact picture of human nature: When we have us'd our utmost endeavours to obtain our desires, and have fail'd in the attempt, the object immediately loses its value, and we would be thought to despise it. To be easy under any disappointment is the result of reason; but to seem to despise what we have been very solicitous to obtain, arises from the pride of our natures, which persuades us to endeavour to cheat the world into an opinion that we have not been disappointed: The remedy for this disease of our minds, is a regular conduct, and to hold the balance even in all our affairs, that the scale be not rais'd too high or depress'd too low.

Antinous in this reply, speaks, as well as Eurymachus, with dissimulation; he is unwilling to give a true reason, and therefore invents a false one: The true reason why he defers the tryal of the Bow is, because he fears his inability to draw it: The feign'd reason is a pretended piety paid to the day: it was a day to be observ'd religiously, and he insinuates that all sports upon it are a prophanation of it; and consequently, Apollo being provok'd, disables them from drawing the Bow, of which he is the patron. This is the reason why he proposes to offer a libation, to atone for the abuse of the day by their diversions. But perhaps the reason why Antinous defers the exercise of the Bow to the following day, is not because he thought it unlawful to proceed in it on the festival of Apollo; for why should an exercise which was instituted in honour of that Deity, be thought a prophanation of the day? I should therefore rather conclude, that the impiety intended by Antinous, was their omission in not offering a sacrifice to that God before they begun the tryal, that he might prosper their endeavours: The conclusion of his speech makes this opinion probable: “Let us now defer the experiment, and offer sacrifice in the morning to Apollo, that he may give us success in drawing the Bow;” which implies that they were unsuccessful because they had forgot to sacrifice, I will only add that Antinous mentions a goat as an offering to Apollo; we have before seen bulls, sheep and bullocks offered to that Deity; the reason why a goat is a proper victim, I suppose is because he is a rural God, and patron of shepherds, and therefore all kinds of beasts were offer'd to him promiscuously.

The story of the Centaur is this: Pirithous a Lapithite marrying Hippodamia the daughter of Adrastus, invited the Centaurs and Lapithæ to his nuptials; the Centaurs drinking to great excess, and offering violence to the bride, engag'd them in a quarrel; Eurytion was the person who began the disorder, and the war that ensued became fatal to the whole nation of the Centaurs. Horace alludes to this history.

The Lapithites were a people of Thessaly inhabiting the mountains Pindus and Othrys; the Centaurs were their neighbours, and dwelt in mount Pelion. This war between the Lapithites and the Centaurs probably lasted about a year: for it began on the day of the nuptials of Pirithous, and on the day that his son Polypætes was born, he obtain'd a decisive victory over the Centaurs, and drove them from mount Pelion. Thus lib. 2. v. 900 of the Iliad.

This history is at large related by Ovid, Metamorph. 12. He calls Eurytion by the name of Eurytus, and describes the nuptial feast in a cave, and not in the palace of Pirithous. Thus Mr. Dryden:

This answer of Penelope is very severe and very just: Eurymachus (observes Dacier) had said, If this beggar draws the bow, we shall lose our reputation: Penelope answers, It is in vain to be sollicitous about your reputation, when your lives are a series of infamous actions: Fame is the reward of good, and shame the portion of base and unworthy deeds: It is no dishonour to a Prince to be surpass'd by a Beggar in strength, but a Prince is more infamous than a Beggar, if his actions betray him to be a worse man; a base action sinks him into contempt, and taints his nobility. The words in Homer are, τι ελεγχεα ταυτα τιθεσθε; which Eustathius thus explains; Why do you overlook the greater dishonour, and are thus afraid of trifles? and, adds Dacier, the sentiment is just and happy: These Princes place disgrace where it is not; they think it a shame to yield in strength to this stranger, which is really no shame; meer strength is the praise of a beast, not of a Prince: On the contrary, what is really a shame, they think to be none; they prey upon a King, who was a friend to all mankind, they act a thousand insolent and base deeds, and yet apprehend no discredit. This is an unhappy, and I wish it were an unjust, picture of human nature; we deceive our selves with false notions both of shame and glory, and we may apply the words of Terence to this purpose:

Praise is only to be obtain'd by virtue, and fame is the certain reward of it: Ill-nature or envy may eclipse it, but it will prevail and break out into glory.

This speech has been accus'd of too great a liberty, and as wanting in respect from a son to a mother: Telemachus speaks with authority, when he ought to have shew'd obedience and filial duty. But these Criticks mistake the design and intention of Telemachus; he speaks directly to Penelope, but obliquely and intentionally to the Suitors: It is for this reason that he says he is supreme in the palace, viz. to let them know that he will not give up the sway into their pow'r. He tells Penelope that the Bow shall be used as he directs; this is done to intimidate the Suitors, and prepare the way for the delivery of it to Ulysses, contrary to their injunctions to Eumæus.

The verses are the same with those in the 6th of the Iliad. There Hector speaks to Andromache, a tender husband to a fond wife, and the speech was never tax'd with any want of love and kindness. In that place Hector remembers that he is an husband, yet forgets not that he is an Heroe. In this, Telemachus deviates not from the duty of a son, yet speaks in the character and style of a Prince.

Eustathius excellently enlarges upon the words of Telemachus: There is an absolute necessity that Penelope should withdraw, that she might not be present at the scene of blood and slaughter. It is for the same reason that the Poet introduces Minerva casting her into a profound sleep, that she might be entirely ignorant of the death of the Suitors: This is absolutely necessary; for if she had been acquainted that Ulysses was return'd, and the Suitors slain by his hand, there could have been no room for the interview between Ulysses and Penelope in the succeeding parts of the Odyssey.

But is not Minerva introduc'd upon too small an occasion, only to cast Penelope into a slumber? would not nature have work'd the same effect without the assistance of the Goddess? I have already remark'd that machines are not always used out of necessity, but frequently for ornament, to dignify the Poetry and create surprise by the appearance of a Deity. But here the Poet brings down Minerva, to give credibility to the story; for tho' it be true that nature is sufficient to produce this effect, yet that it should operate in the critical and exact moment, when the Poet has occasion for it, is in some degree incredible: The Poet therefore, to reconcile the relation to probability, introduces a præternatural sleep, occasion'd by the immediate operation of a Goddess.

Penelope is amaz'd at the free remonstrance of Telemachus; she is ignorant of the reason of it, yet immediately retires, not doubting but his words flow'd from a just cause, and not from a want of filial duty: she is therefore said by the Poet to lodge his words in her memory, waiting till time should unfold the mystery. Dacier.

Spondanus believes they laugh out of contempt of Telemachus; Dacier because they believe the time come which is to end all their doubts by the marriage of Penelope; they hope to draw the Bow, and this hope mollifies their anger. But all these reasons (as well as those of Eustathius) seem to be rather invented than natural: we may find a sufficient reason of their laughter, from the sharpness of Telemachus towards Eumæus; they rejoice to see an enemy (for such they esteem Eumæus) misus'd, and this will likewise give a reason why the Poet adds that they ceas'd their anger against Telemachus, namely, because he gratifies their ill-will by threatning Eumæus.

It is very evident that this command proceeds not from Telemachus but Ulysses: It was Ulysses who gave directions to shut the door of the womens apartment; but Eumæus is ignorant that Euryclea was acquainted with the return of Ulysses, and therefore speaks as from Telemachus. He knew very well that she would obey the orders of Telemachus, but if she had not been acquainted with the return of Ulysses, she would have made some hesitation, believing the Beggar to be really a stranger and not Ulysses. Eustathius.

The word in the Greek is βυβλινον, which we are not to understand of the Ægyptian Papyrus, but it is deriv'd from βιλος or βυβλος, a plant growing in the marshes of Ægypt, βοτανες εμφερους παπυρω, that bears the resemblance of the Papyrus, as Eustathius explains it. Of this plant the Antients made their cordage; on the top of it there grew fibrous threads resembling hair, and thus Strabo describes it, ψιλη ραβδος επ' ακρου εχουσα χαιτην, a slender twig, bearing, as it were, hair on the top of it.

This little particularity is not inserted in vain: Ulysses is ready to engage in a terrible combat; it is therefore very necessary to be curious in the examination of the Bow, to be certain that he might depend upon it; if he had observ'd that it had been decay'd thro' time, his prudence would have furnish'd him with some other instrument. Eustathius is of opinion that this whole Bow was made of horn, because ιπες denotes worms that breed in horn: The Bow, says that Author, was made of horn, and not of wood, like the Scythian bows. This, it must be confess'd, is not entirely satisfactory, because the bows were antiently tipt or pointed at the extremities with horn; and to this horn Ulysses may refer: But the other opinion is most probable, and Ovid thus understood it:

Eustathius confesses himself to be greatly pleas'd with this comparison; it is very just, and well suited to the purpose; the strings of the lyre represent the bow-string, and the ease with which the Lyrist stretches them, admirably paints the facility with which Ulysses draws the bow. When similitudes are borrow'd from an object entirely different from the subject which they are brought to illustrate, they give us a double satisfaction, as they surprize us by shewing an agreement between such things in which there seems to be the greatest disagreement.

The comparison is not intended to represent the sweetness of the sound, but only the quality and nature of it; and means a harsh or jarring sound, or somewhat rough, υποτραχυ, as Eustathius interprets it; such a sound as the swallow makes when she sings by starts, and not in one even tenour. The swallow is inharmonious and Aristophanes uses χελιδονων μουσεια in his frogs, to signify those who are enemies to the Muses; and here the Poet uses it to denote a shrill, harsh, or jarring sound.

The signal of battle is here given in thunder by Jupiter, as in the eleventh book of the Iliad.

And again,

This prepares us for the greatness of the following action, which is usher'd in with thunder from heaven: And we are not surpriz'd to see Ulysses defeat his enemies, when Jupiter declares himself in his favour. Homer calls this thunder a sign and a prodigy: It is a sign, because it predicts the event; and a prodigy, because the thunder proceeds from a serene sky.

Ulysses speaks not thus out of vanity, but solely to confirm the courage of Telemachus, and his two friends, Eumæus and Philætius. He sets his vigor before their eyes, that they may have confidence in it in the succeeding engagement.

This circumstance is very necessary; Ulysses excites the Suitors to supper by day-light, because it would be more easy for him to assault them while they sate at table: the posture would give him some advantage; and he adds before ev'ning, because if they had supp'd by the light of the torch, upon extinguishing it, they had greatly embarrass'd him, and perhaps render'd his designs ineffectual thro' the benefit of the darkness. Neither is it without reason that he proposes singing and music; he does it to draw away their thoughts from any jealousy of intended violence; and by this method he gives the assault unexpectedly, and begins the slaughter before they are prepar'd to make any opposition.

We are now come to the great event or Catastrophe of the Odyssey, which is the Destruction of the Suitors. The manner by which the Poet conducts it, has been prais'd and censur'd, by some as noble and heroic, by others as romantic and incredible: It is therefore highly necessary to vindicate Homer in the chief action of the whole Poem, that he may not be found culpable, in the place where he ought to be the most exact and draw his Heroe to the best advantage. The Objection made against this decisive action is, that the Poet makes Ulysses perform impossibilities; no one person, with such small assistance, being able to destroy above an hundred Enemies. It is no answer to say that Pallas descends to aid Ulysses, for it has been already prov'd, that all incidents which require a divine probability, should be so disengag'd from the action, that they may be substracted from it without destroying it; whereas this action is essential to it. No less a Critic than Longinus, Chap. 7. condemns Homer; for enumerating the faults of the Odyssey, he thus proceeds: “To these may be added the absurdities he commits, in the account of the destruction of Penelope's Suitors.” And Scaliger, Lib. 5. of his Poetics is of the same opinion: Ulysses intersecit arcu procos, inter quos & ipsum tantillum esset intervalli: Quare omnes simul in eum impetum non fecerunt? The strength of this Objection lies in the omission of the Suitors in not rushing at once upon Ulysses in an united Body: Now this was impossible, he stood upon the threshold in a narrow pass, and by this advantage he was able to make it good against a great inequality of numbers. It is not difficult to bring instances of a like nature from undoubted history: Cocles alone defended the bridge over the Tyber against the whole army of Porsena, and stood unmoveable till the Romans broke it down behind him. And Leonidas the Spartan General defended the Pass of Thermopylæ with a small number, against three millions of Persians led by Xerxes; and if he had not been betray'd, he would have probably defeated his whole army. In both these instances there was a greater inequality of numbers, than between Ulysses and the Suitors. The Reader will be reconcil'd to the probability of these relations, if he considers that the whole business of war was antiently decided by mere strength of body: Fire-arms now set all men upon a nearer Level; but in these early ages, the strongest person was the greatest Heroe; a man of superior and uncommon strength drove his enemies before him like an army of boys, and with as much facility. From this observation it is evident that Homer scarce transgresses the bounds of historic truth, when he describes Achilles chasing whole squadrons of Trojans. He wrote according to the manners of his times, and drew after the life, tho' sometimes he improv'd a feature to give grace to the picture of his Heroe: Thus in the Scripture, from the mere advantage of strength, we see a single Goliah defy the whole armies of Israel.

Rapin commends the conduct of Homer in bringing about the destruction of the Suitors. The unravelling the whole Odyssey (says that Author) by their Deaths, is very great, and very becoming an Heroe; that whole story is dress'd up in colours so decent, and at the same time so noble, that antiquity can hardly match any part of the narration; here Homer has display'd himself to the best advantage. I wish Rapin had given his reasons, and not run into a general commendation: But we shall be sufficiently convinc'd of the judgment of Homer in describing the Suitors falling chiefly by Ulysses, if we consider the nature of Epic Poetry. The chief action is to be perform'd by the Heroe of the Poem: thus Hector falls by Achilles, Turnus by Æneas: The death of the Suitors is the chief action of the Odyssey, and therefore it is necessarily to be executed by Ulysses; for if any other person had perform'd it, that person would have done an action more noble than the Heroe of the Poem, and eclipsed his glory. It is for the same reason that the Poet refuses all easie methods to re-establish Ulysses: he throws him into difficulties which he is to surmount by his own prowess and magnanimity. Homer might easily have rais'd an army, and plac'd Ulysses at the head of it; but the more difficult way being most conducive to his honour. he rejects all easie methods, shews him struggling with infinite hazards, out of which he extricates himself personally by his wisdom and courage. By these means he compleats the character of his Heroe, leaves a noble image of his worth upon the minds of the Spectators, and makes him go off the stage with the utmost applause.

Plato was particularly struck with the beauty of these lines: In his Dialogue intituled Iön, p. 145. Socrates thus speaks: “When you repeat the Verses of Homer emphatically, and ravish the whole Audience, whether it be the passage where he sings how Ulysses leaps upon the threshold, discovers himself to the Suitors, and pours his arrows before his feet; or where Achilles rushes upon Hector; or where he paints the Lamentations of Hecuba, Priam, or Andromache; tell me, are you any longer master of your own passions? are you not transported? and ravish'd with divine fury, think your self present at the very actions, either in Ithaca or Troy?” It must indeed be allow'd, that Homer here paints to the Life; we see Ulysses, his motion, his attitude, and the noble fury with which he begins the onset. The Poet interests us in the cause of his Heroe, and we fight on his side against his enemies.

Eustathius observes that instead of ραχος the Æolians wrote βρακος; an observation of too little importance to have been regarded, if he had not given us a fragment of Sappho as a proof of it.

which he thus explains,

The circumstance of throwing the arrows before his feet is not inserted without a reason; Ulysses could reach them from thence with more facility and expedition, than if they had hung at his shoulder in the Quiver.

Ulysses addresses a pray'r to Apollo to give success to his present enterprize; he directs it to him, because he is the God of Archery; and he concludes in four words, in compliance with the exigence of the time, which will not permit him to speak at large. This prayer to Apollo confirms my observation, that Penelope propos'd the tryal of the Bow in honour of that Deity, and we find that it was customary from a remarkable passage in the Iliad, Lib. 4.

It is from the urgency of the time that the speech of Ulysses, as well as the prayer, is concise: It would have been very injudicious, when he was ready to assault his enemies unexpectedly, to have prefac'd the onset with a long oration; this would have given them an alarm, and time to make an opposition.

This particular is very artful; the Poet while he writes, seems to be surpriz'd at the difficulty of the enterprize he is about to relate. He is in doubt of the great event, and stands still in admiration of it. This has a double effect; it sets the courage of Ulysses in a strong point of light, who executes what might be almost thought an impossibility; and at the same time it excellently contributes to make the story credible; for Homer appears to be held in suspense by the greatness of the action; an intimation that nothing but the real truth and deference to veracity could extort from him a belief of it: thus by seeming to make the relation improbable, the Poet establishes the probability of it. Eustathius.

The word in the original is αυλος, which commonly signifies a pipe or musical instrument: The Antients (observes Eustathius) used it to denote a fountain; here therefore it implies a flux or fountain of blood, κρουνος εξακοντισμα αιματος, the word therefore very happily paints the blood spouting from the Nostrils, as from a fountain; and in this sense, it gives us a full image of the nature of the wound; the blood sprung as from a pipe, through the mouth of the wound, or from the veins, through the nostrils.

This passage was look'd upon as spurious by the Antients; for they thought it impossible that all the Suitors should speak the same sentiment, as by compact, like a Chorus in a Tragedy: they appeal'd to the custom of Homer himself, who continually wrote

Eustathius answers, that the Poet speaks thus confusedly, to represent the confusion of the Suitors at the death of Antinous. Dacier defends him by saying, that all the Suitors imagin'd that Antinous was slain by accident, and therefore the whole assembly having the same sentiment, the Poet might ascribe to every member of it the same expression. Either of these solutions explains the difficulty.

The mention of the return of Ulysses from Troy is not inserted casually: He speaks thus to intimidate his enemies, by recalling to their minds all the brave actions that he perform'd before it. Were not this his intention, he would have varied his expression, for in reality he has been absent from Troy near ten years, and returns from the Phæacian, not the Trojan shores. Eustathius.

This expression is judiciously inserted, and with good reason put into the mouth of one of the Suitors, namely Eurymachus. The Poet is now punishing them for their crimes; it is therefore very necessary that the Reader should be satisfy'd that they deserve punishment; for if it be not an act of justice, it is murder. The Poet therefore brings them all confessing themselves guilty by the mouth of Eurymachus; their crime is the intended murder of Telemachus, and the usurpation of the throne of Ulysses. If this had not been set in a clear light, there might have been room for a suspicion that Ulysses inflicted a punishment too great for the guilt of the Suitors. For was it a crime that deserv'd death, to aim at the marriage of Penelope? this is not to be suppos'd; for they took her to be a widow, and might therefore without a crime ask her in marriage. Was death due for the waste and profusion of the riches of Ulysses? This might have been redress'd, by a full repayment, and a just equivalent. Homer therefore, to shew that there is a cause for the severity of the punishment, sets their crimes in open view, which are an intentional murder, and an actual treason. The place likewise where he inserts this circumstance is well chosen, viz. in the place where the punishment is related; and by this method we acknowledge the equity of it. 'Tis true, Eurymachus throws the guilt upon Antinous as the chief offender; but all the Suitors have been his associates, and approv'd of all his violent and bloody designs thro' the Odyssey, and therefore are justly involv'd in the same punishment; so that Ulysses punishes rebellious subjects by the authority of a King. Homer likewise observes justice in the death of Antinous; he is the first in guilt, and the first that falls by his Heroe's hands.

Eurymachus exhorts the Suitors to make use of the tables to oppose Ulysses in the manner of shields; from whence, observes Eustathius, it may be gather'd that every Suitor had a peculiar table. This may be confirm'd from this book; for when Antinous falls, he overturns a Table; which, if there had been but one, would have been too large to be thus overthrown: besides he speaks in the plural number, τραπεζας.

It is impossible but that the Suitors must have many friends amongst the Ithacans. Interest or ill-humour engages men in faction; but this is not the full import of the sense of Homer: The Ithacans were ignorant that Ulysses was return'd, and no wonder therefore if they engag'd in defence of the Princes of their land, against a stranger and a beggar; for such in appearance was Ulysses.

Eustathius, and Spondanus from him, interpret this passage very much to the disadvantage of the courage of Telemachus: They observe that he is yet new to the horrors of war, and therefore wanting the heart to meet his enemy in the front, gives him this wound between the shoulders: That as soon as he has given the blow, out of fear he leaves the spear in the wound; an action as disreputable, as to throw away the shield in battle; and lastly, that it is fear that suggests to his mind the expedient to fetch the arms, a pretext to be distant from danger. But it is not difficult to defend Telemachus. Amphinomus was assaulting Ulysses, and consequently his back was turn'd towards Telemachus, and this occasions the wound in that part. This combat is not a combat of honour, where points of ceremony are observ'd; Telemachus was therefore at liberty to destroy his enemy by any methods, without any imputation of cowardice; especially considering the inequality of the parties. Neither is it out of fear that he quits his spear; but from a dictate of wisdom: he is afraid lest some of the Suitors should attack him while he is disingaging it, and take him at an advantage, while he has no weapon to use in his own defence; besides, he has no farther occasion for it, he hastes away to provide other arms; not only for himself, but for Ulysses and his friends; and this is so far from being the suggestion of fear, that it is the result of wisdom.

There is some difficulty in the expression προπρηνει τυψας, the meaning of it is, Lest he should receive a descending blow: The word is an adjective, and Eustathius tells us that χειρι is to be understood; I should rather chuse φασγανω, which immediately precedes, it being as good sense to say, A wound is given by a descending sword, as a descending hand.

Homer almost constantly gives the epithet πτεροεντα to επεα; winged words. Plutarch in his treatise upon Garrulity gives us the meaning of it. A word (says that Author) while it remains unspoken is a secret, but being communicated, it changes its name into common rumour; it is then flown from us; and this is the reason why Homer calls words winged: He that lets a bird fly from his hand, does not easily catch it again; and he that lets a word slip from his tongue cannot recall it; it flies abroad, and flutters from place to place every moment. It has indeed in some passages a still closer meaning; when a person speaks with precipitation, the epithet expresses the swiftness of the speech, the words are wing'd. It is here apply'd with particular propriety; Telemachus asks a question in the compass of four lines, and receives an answer in two from Ulysses; the time not allowing any delay.

The Poet may be thought too circumstantial in the disposal of the bow; but there is a reason for it; he shews Ulysses plac'd it out of the reach of the Suitors, who, if they had seized the bow, might have furnished themselves with arrows from the dead bodies of their friends, and employed them against Ulysses: This caution was therefore necessary. Eustathius.

The word in the Greek is ορσοθυρη, janua superior, and it is likewise used a little lower. It has given great trouble to the Commentators to explain the situation of these two Passages. Dacier imagines that by the former there was a descent into the court-yard and so to the street; but this cannot be true: For Agelaus exhorting his associates to seize this passage, makes use of the word αναβανω, which signifies to ascend, and not to descend into the court-yard: Besides, he bids them raise the people by shouting to them, which seems to imply, that this place overlook'd the streets, from whence a shout might be heard by the people. Ορσοθυρη (observes Eustathius) is θυρη εις ην ορνυται τις θελων ιδειν εκειθεν, that is, a door by which a person ascends to obtain a prospect: This probably led to the roof of the porch of the palace fronting the street, from whence a person standing in the open air and shouting might raise the City; or as for greater clearness it is here translated a window, which answers all these purposes.

But there is still a difficulty arising from the word λαυρην, which is thus solved by Eustathius, λαυρη εστιν ο προς την ορσοθυρην αγων στενωπος, that is, a narrow passage leading to this private window or door, and he afterwards interprets it by στενη οδος.

From what has been observ'd, it appears evidently that there was another passage to the upper apartments of the palace; for this was guarded by Eumæus, and was inaccessible, and consequently Melanthius conveys the arms to the Suitors by some other stair-case. This Homer expresses by αναρρωγας μεγαροιο; the former word is very well explained by Hesychius, it signifies the passages of the palace leading from chamber to chamber, or the διοδοι of the apartments. Ρωγη properly denotes a rupture, and here represents the openings of the passages from room to room. The Antients thought this whole passage so obscure, that they drew a plan of these inward passages of the palace, as Eustathius informs us; in this they figur'd the porch, the higher aperture, the other stair case, and the room where the arms were laid. But Dacier starts another difficulty: If Melanthius could go up to the room where the arms lay, why could he not go from thence into the courts of the palace, and raise the city? The answer is, because the arms were plac'd in an inward apartment, and there was no passage from thence into the palace-yards. Her mistake arose from her opinion that there was an entry into the palace by the ορσοθυρη, which opinion is refuted in the beginning of this annotation. If indeed Telemachus had brought down the arms this way, then there must have been a passage for Melanthius to the place from whence Agelaus bids him raise the city; for if Telemachus had passed to the armory by it, why might not Melanthius from it? But this is not the case; for this door or window is not mentioned till Telemachus has furnished Ulysses and his Friends with armour; and consequently Homer cannot intend that we should understand that Telemachus ascended to the armory by it.

Aristarchus, remarks Eustathius, blamed this description as incredible; for how could one person be able to carry such a load of armour at one time? But we are not to make this supposition; the Poet speaks indefinitely, and leaves us at liberty to conjecture that Melanthius brought them at several times; thus a little lower we find him going again for arms to furnish the rest of the Suitors.

This passage, where Telemachus bids Eumæus go and see who brings the arms, proves that Telemachus did not before absent himself from the battle out of cowardice; Here he chuses to partake the danger with Ulysses, and sends Eumæus and Philætius to execute his orders; a sign that he does not consult his safety at the expence of his honour.

But it may seem extraordinary, that Ulysses and Telemachus should be in doubt to know the person who brought the arms to the Suitors; especially when Agelaus had held a publick conference with Melanthius in order to it; but, answers Eustathius, they spoke with a low voice, and at a proper distance from Ulysses. It may also be objected that Melanthius could not possibly bring the arms without the observation of Ulysses and his friends. To solve this difficulty we must have recourse to the second private door, or ορσοθυρη, mentioned in a former annotation: by this passage he ascends and descends without a discovery; that passage standing in such a situation, as not to be visible to those who were on the opposite side of the palace. What may seem to contradict this observation is, what Homer afterwards adds, for he directly tells us, that Eumæus observ'd that the person who brought the arms was Melanthius; but that expression may only imply, that he saw Melanthius going from the rest of the company, and hasting toward that ascent, and therefore justly concludes him to be the Person.

It may be ask'd, when Eumæus retires from the guard of the passage, what hinders the Suitors from seizing it, and by it giving notice to the city of their danger? What Ulysses here says obviates this objection. He tells Eumæus, that he and Telemachus will defend it against all the efforts of his enemies: By this expression he gives us to understand, that Telemachus shall post himself in the place of Eumæus, and make it good till he has executed justice upon Melanthius.

We see Melanthius after a diligent search finds only one helm and one shield; and the shield is described as almost spoil'd with age: From hence Eustathius gathers that there were no more left in the armory; for it is probable that Melanthius would not have return'd with so few arms if he could have found more; nor would he have brought the decay'd shield, if he could have supply'd himself with a stronger; so that all the arms of Ulysses were seventeen helmets, twelve at first deliver'd to the Suitors by Melanthius, one more he was now bringing, and Ulysses and his friends were in possession of four: There were the same number of shields, and twenty spears, twelve given to the Suitors, and eight to the assistants of Ulysses. This was his private armory for the defence of his palace: and we are not to conclude, that these were the whole arms of the nation; there probably was a publick repository for armour for the publick use of their armies against their enemies.

Pallas is here an allegorical Deity, and represents the courage and wisdom which was exerted by Ulysses in the destruction of the Suitors: The Poet puts the words into the mouth of a Goddess, to give ornament and dignity to his Poetry; but they are only the suggestions of his own heart, which reproaches him for being so slow in punishing the insolence of his adversaries. If we take them in this sense they will be in the nature of a soliloquy: The Poet indeed was obliged to introduce a Deity, to give importance to the decisive action of his whole Poem: Thus Jupiter assists Æneas in Virgil; Minerva, Achilles in the Iliad, and the same Goddess Ulysses here in the Odyssey. I very well know that all these passages have been blam'd by some Critics, as derogatory to the courage of these Heroes, who cannot conquer their enemies but thro' the assistance of a Deity. The Reader may be pleas'd to look back for a full vindication of Homer and Virgil, to Lib. 3. Note 43. of the Odyssey.

We may observe that a Deity descends to assist Ulysses, but that the Suitors are left to their own Conduct: This furnishes us with a very just and pious moral, and teaches us that Heaven guards and assists good men in adversity, but abandons the wicked, and lets them perish for their follies.

We have seen the Deities, both in the Iliad and Odyssey, changing themselves into the shape of birds: thus, Lib. 7. v. 67. of the Iliad,

This perhaps may be the occasion of all such fictions. The superstition of the heathen world induc'd the Antients to believe that the appearance of any Bird in a critical hour, was a sign of the presence of a Divinity, and by degrees they began to persuade themselves, that the Gods appear'd to them in the form of those birds. Hence arose all the honours paid to Augurs, and the reliance upon divination drawn from the flight of birds: and almost every Deity had a bird sacred to him. The Eagle to Jupiter, the Peacock to Juno, &c. Pallas here takes the form of a swallow, because it is a domestic Bird, and therefore may be said to appear within the walls of the palace with most probability,

The danger beginning to abate by the fall of the chief of the enemy, Ulysses advances from his stand: There was a necessity for this conduct: Ulysses and his three assistants had kill'd four enemies with their spears; and consequently the Poet was obliged to supply them with fresh weapons, otherwise, if they had discharged their spears once more, they must have been left naked and defenceless, having only two a-piece brought by Telemachus. This observation shews the exactness which Homer maintains in his relation.

This refers to a passage in the latter end of the twentieth Book of the Odyssey, where Ctesippus throws the foot of a bullock at Ulysses. Philætius here gives him a mortal wound with his spear, and tells him it is a return for the foot of the bullock. Eustathius informs us that this became a Proverb, τουτο το αντι ποδος ξεινηιον, to express a return of evil for evil; the like may be observed of the death of Antinous, who was killed as he lifted the bowl to drink.

Which is exactly render'd by our Proverb, Many things happen between the cup and the lip. Thus likewise the kindness of Cyclops was used proverbially, to denote a severe injury disguised under a seeming civility; that Monster having promis'd Ulysses mercy, but it was only the mercy to devour him last. These little instances prove the great veneration the Antients had for Homer.

This shield is at large describ'd, Lib. 5. of the Iliad.

We see the terrible effects which the shield causes are created by the Poet into a kind of Beings, and animated to fight on the side of his Heroe.

The fury of the battle being now over, Homer pauses with the action; and letting his fancy rove in search of foreign ornaments, beautifies and enlivens the horrors of it with two similitudes, drawn from subjects very distant from the terrors they are brought to illustrate. The former of an herd of cattle, represents the confusion and affright of the Suitors; the latter of the birds, their weakness and unavailing flight. The Gadfly shews the fury and close pursuit of Ulysses and his assistants, the Hawks their courage, and superior pow'r. Eustathius. Virgil at large describes this Breeze fly. Georg. 3.

This description shews that this is no ill-chosen similitude; it very well paints the Suitors flying in an herd, and Ulysses wounding them as they fly.

The latter simile from the Hawks, affords some curiosity in regard to the antient manner of that sport. It is evident, says Dacier, that this passage is an instance, that flying of birds of prey, in the nature of our hawking, was practis'd by the Antients: The nets call'd by Homer νεφεα, were fix'd in the plain ground; the fowlers with their falcons took their station upon the adjoining eminences; when the birds, driven from this rising ground, flew to the plain, they met with the nets, and endeavouring to escape them, crowded into flocks; Then the Hawk or Vultur was loos'd, and descending upon his prey, slew them in multitudes; for the birds were incapable of resisting, and at the same time were afraid of the nets, and therefore could not escape: This is the reason why the fowlers are said to rejoice at the sport: A plain indication, that the Poet intended to describe the sportman's flying his bird at the prey. That the word νεφεα signifies Nets, is evident from Aristophanes, μα νεφελας, μα δικτυα, that is, I swear by my nets: Hesychius is of the same opinion, νεφεα, says that Author, signifies the Clouds, και λινα θηρατικα, Hunters Nets. Eustathius directly affirms, that in his time this sport was practised in many countries; and the place where the nets were fixed was call'd νεφελοστασια. That Author construes these words νεφεα πτωσσουσαι ιενται, as if επι were to be understood, to express the rushing of the birds against the net; but there is no occasion for this violence to the text, for by joining νεφεα with πτωσσουσαι the period will be plain, and signify, that thro' fear of the net they fly with violence to avoid it. Monsieur Dacier has a pretty observation upon this sport; and shews us that the Antients were used to take even deer with nets, by flying at them birds of prey, in conformity to this description of Homer: This is manifest from a passage in Arrian, lib. 2. c. 1. where he speaks of men placing their fears where they have nothing to fear: Γοιπον ημεις το των ελαφων πασχομεν οτε φοβουνται φευγουσαι αι ελαφοι τα πτηνα, που τρεπονται; και προς τινα (τοπον) αναχωρουσιν ως ασφαλη; προς τα δικτυα, και ουτως απολλυνται, εναλλαξασαι τα φοβερα και ταθαρραλεα; “For what remains, we are like deer, for they fearing the birds that are flown at them, what course do they take? To what place of refuge do they run to be in security? To the nets, and so perish, mistaking their danger for their greatest safety.” Minerva in this similitude is the bird of prey descending from the mountain, for she it is who scatters the Suitors by displaying her Ægis from the roof of the palace: This is the opinion of Eustathius: But in the winding up of the comparison, Homer plainly by the vultur denotes Ulysses and his assistants (tho' perhaps not exclusively of the Goddess) for in the application he writes:

This Liodes is the last person who survives of the Suitors; he was an Augur and a Prophet, and ought therefore to have follow'd wiser counsels: He tells Ulysses that he endeavour'd to restrain the Suitors from their insolence; but he himself aspir'd to the bed of Penelope, and consequently was an associate in their conspiracies. Liodes falls without resistance; and indeed it would have been very improper to have represented him encountring Ulysses in a single combat, when above an hundred had not been able to stand before him: besides, fighting is out of the character of Liodes; he was not a man of the sword, but an Augur: It would therefore have been contrary to his function, to have drawn him engaging Ulysses; and consequently it is with great propriety that he is describ'd falling not as a warrior, but as a suppliant.

This altar of Jupiter Hercæus stood in the Palace-yard; so call'd from ερκος, the out-wall enclosing the Court-yard. It stood in the open air, where they sacrific'd to Jupiter the Guardian, or Protector; and within the Palace to Ζευς σ(στιουχος.

Jupiter was worshipp'd under the same name by the Romans. Thus Ovid,

The Altar mention'd by Virgil, Æneid. 2. was of the same nature: To which Priam fled at the taking of Troy.

These Altars were places of sanctuary, and by flying to them the person was thought to be under the immediate protection of the Deity, and therefore in some cases inviolable. The same practice prevail'd amongst the Jews, for we find frequently in the scriptures that it was customary to fly to the Altar as to a place of refuge, which is evident from the expression of laying hold on the horns of the Altar. This is the reason why Phemius entertains an intention to fly to the Altar of Jupiter Hercæus. Plutarch, in his treatise upon Music, informs us, that Demodocus was reported to have wrote a Poem, intitled, The destruction of Troy: And Phemius another, call'd The return of the Grecian Captains: But by these Poets, Homer probably means only himself, who was Author of two Poems, the Iliad, and the Odyssey. Homer (remarks Eustathius) plainly shews us the notion he had of the great qualifications that were necessary to form a good Poet. He must sing of men and Gods: that is, be thoroughly acquainted with all things, both human and divine; he must be αυτοδιδακτος, or self-taught; that is, as we express it, he must be a Genius; he must have a natural ability, which is indeed to be improv'd, but not capable of being learn'd, by study: He adds, that besides this felicity of nature, he must have an heavenly inspiration; this implies that he must have a kind of enthusiasm, an elevation of soul which is not to be obtain'd by labour and industry, and consequently is the gift of heav'n. Thus Pindar,

This is the Mens Divinior of Horace: By industry men may become great Scholars and Philosophers; but no man was ever a great Poet, without being in the strictest sense a great Genius. I will only add, that Aristotle in his Rhet. 1. 7. quotes this Hemistic αυτοδιδακτος, &c. as an instance that natural are more excellent than acquir'd abilities; he gives the reason of it; namely, because they are more uncommon, and not to be obtain'd by human industry. Maximus Tyrius has a criticism upon it. How (objects that Author) can it be said that the Poet is self-taught, if the Gods teach him to sing? The answer is easy, Homer means that he has no human instructor, and only opposes natural to acquir'd abilities. It is observable that Maximus Tyrius erroneously quotes the verse. Dissert. 22. for he writes, Θεος δε μοι ωπασαν ομφην, instead of

He likewise puts the words in the mouth of Demodocus, which are here spoken by Phemius; he undoubtedly quoted by memory.

What Homer adds after all this, to raise the character of his Poet, is very remarkably moral. That he never turned his talents to flattery, nor was it voluntarily that he served or entertain'd unworthy men, but was merely compell'd to it by their violence.

The moral intended to be taught by the fable of the Odyssey is, to shew virtue, tho' long in distress, at length triumphant; and vice, tho' long successful, unfortunate in the conclusion: It is to this effect that Ulysses here speaks; and to give his words more weight, he throws them into a sentence. It is with excellent judgment that it is here plac'd by Homer: The punishment is no sooner over but Ulysses declares the equity of it; he speaks to all mankind, and lays it down as an universal truth that virtue is to be prefer'd before vice, and invites us to the practice of the former, by shewing the success of it in his own victory; and deters us from the latter, by representing the ill consequences of it in the destruction of the Suitors.

The Antients, remarks Eustathius, observ'd that this is the only place where Homer manifestly speaks of catching fish with nets; For those words, lib. 5. v. 595. of the Iliad,

which in the Greek is express'd by αψισι λινου αλοντε παναγρου, may be apply'd to the taking of beasts or birds by nets, and consequently ought not to be appropriated to fishing. Thus it is evident that this art was practis'd very antiently amongst the Grecians; it was likewise known early to the Hebrews and Ægyptians. Thus Isaiah xix. 8. The fishers (of Ægypt) shall mourn, all they that cast the angle into the brook shall lament, and they that spread nets upon the waters shall languish. And that they fish'd the seas with nets is evident from Ezekiel xxvi. 5. It shall be a place for the spreading of nets in the midst of the sea. The comparison is very just; and the last line of it gives a peculiar honour and distinction to Ulysses: That Heroe is the Sun who kills the Suitors, in application of the similitude.

Eustathius agrees with an observation which has been made concerning the similitudes of the Odyssey, lib. 16. He here remarks that comparisons are as rare in the Odyssey as they are frequent in the Iliad; and that the difference arises from the difference of the subjects: The subject of the Iliad is great, and therefore properly illustrated by noble Images, and a variety of sublime comparisons: The subject of the Odyssey requires to be related in a less exalted style, and with greater simplicity. This Book is an undeniable testimony of the truth of this observation: the story of it approaches nearer to the nature of the Iliad than any other book of the Odyssey, and we find it is more adorn'd with comparisons than almost all the rest of the Poem.

The word in the original is ολολυζα, and here signifies a voice of joy. In other places it is used to denote a sorrowful lamentation. See Note 49. of the third Odyssey. I am wonderfully pleas'd with the noble sentiment of Ulysses contained in these lines. It is full of piety and humanity: good-nature feels for the sufferings of any of its fellow-creatures. Even in punishment we are to remember; that those we punish are men, and inflict it as a necessary justice, not as a triumph. Such here is the conduct of Ulysses; he is so far from rejoicing in his success, that he restrains others from it; and seems to be a mourner at the funeral of his enemies. He falls into the same thought with Job xxxi. 29. If I rejoiced at the destruction of him that hated me, or lifted up my self when evil found him, If I suffered my mouth to sin, by wishing a curse to his soul, &c.

Were a Prince, who makes war for glory, to stand upon a field of battle immediately after victory, amidst the horrors of the dead, and the groans of the dying; it would surely mortify his ambition to see such horrible monuments of his glory. If the death of thousands of brave men were weighed in a scale against a name, a popular empty breath of a multitude, and if reason held the ballance, how easily would the disproportion be discovered?

There is some obscurity in these words, they neither respected the good nor the bad man; or as Homer expresses it,

A reverence is due to a good man, and consequently it is a crime to deny it; but why should it be objected to the Suitors as a fault that they despis'd the bad man, whose actions deserve to be despis'd? Eustathius answers, κακος may signify ταπεινος, or a person of a low condition, the poor man, or the stranger; and this justifies the assertion: But perhaps the Poet uses it to shew that they despis'd and outrag'd all men universally without distinction, whether persons of probity or dishonesty; they consider'd not the condition of others, but were insolent to all mankind.

It is remarkable, observes Monsieur Bayle, that of fifty women, so few as twelve only should yield to the desires of the Suitors. But it is not indeed affirm'd that the rest were ever tempted by any importunities. Plutarch, in his treatise of Education, informs us that Bion wittily apply'd this passage to the study of the sciences: When the Suitors fail'd in their attempts upon Penelope, they condescended to address her maids: so men who are not capable of understanding Philosophy, busy themselves with studies of no value.

This, remarks Eustathius, is an instance of the maternal wisdom of Penelope; and at the same time a vindication of Telemachus for not restraining the insolence and immodesty of these female servants; They were out of his jurisdiction, and immediately under the protection of Penelope. But is not this removal of the fault from Telemachus, an imputation upon the Queen? and if the son wanted an excuse for not punishing their crimes, is the mother unblameable, who not only permits the disorder of their lives, but forbids Telemachus to redress it? Is it to be suppos'd that this chaste matron was more indulgent to female frailty than Telemachus? The true reason is, Telemachus could not, and Penelope durst not, shew a just resentment against these criminals: they had too great an interest in the chief of the Suitors to stand in awe of the Queen, or fear her vengeance. This is evident, for Penelope her self was in a great measure in their power, and the same authority that supported the Suitors in their insolence against the Queen, would support these females against her revenge for their immodesty.

Ulysses gives this injunction, because he is unwilling to wound the eyes of Penelope with a spectacle of such horror as the dead bodies and blood of the Suitors It was indeed necessary to find some reasonable pretext for not introducing the Queen immediately; this might be expected from the fondness and affection of an husband towards a beloved wife, and therefore Ulysses makes even his fondness for her a reason why he delays his discovery, namely, his care not to grieve her with such a terrible scene of slaughter: Besides, the death of the female servants is to succeed, and it would have been indecent to have made her assisting or present at their execution. The Poet reaps a further advantage from this conduct; for by it he introduces the discovery to Penelope, in a time of leisure, and finds an opportunity to describe at large that surprizing and tender incident.

It would in these ages, observes Dacier, be thought barbarous in a King to command his son to perform an execution of so much horror: but antiently it was thought no dishonour: Thus in the Scriptures Gideon having taken Zeba and Salmana, two Midian Kings, commands his son to kill them with the sword in his presence: But, continues that Author, I wish Homer had deviated from this custom, that he had given both Ulysses and Telemachus sentiments of more humanity, and spar'd his Reader a description of such a terrible execution. I am not delighted with any thing that has a tendency to Inhumanity more than that Lady; but it may be answer'd, that Homer was obliged to write according to the custom of the age. Virgil has ascrib'd an act more cruel to the pious Æneas, who sacrifices several unfortunate young men who were his captives. Æn. 11. v. 15.

This act is to be ascribed to the manner of the age, and the customs of war in the days of Æneas, and not to his inhumanity: But here it may seem essential to the very nature of Epic Poetry to relate this act of justice: The moral of it is, to see the good rewarded and the wicked punished, in the conclusion of the Fable. These criminals had been as guilty in their several capacities as the Suitors themselves; it was therefore necessary that their punishment should be set before the Reader, as well as that of the Suitors.

Nothing can better represent to us the Image of these sufferers than this similitude of a bird taken by the neck in a gin or snare. Hobbs in his version has omitted it; and Dacier has abridg'd the whole description.

Eustathius is pleasant upon the death of these wantons. What a certain person, says he, once spoke of a fig-tree, on which his clamorous wife had hang'd herself, viz. I wish all trees bore such fruit; may be apply'd to these ropes, It were to be wish'd that all nooses could catch such birds. This remark has escaped the notice of Madam Dacier; because the race of clamorous women has been long extinct, and therefore there was no occasion to prescribe a remedy for a disease unknown to these happy ages.

The reason why Ulysses orders sulphur to be brought, is, because every thing was thought to be polluted by a dead body, and he uses it by way of purification. The same opinion prevail'd amongst the Hebrews as well as Greeks, as the Scriptures inform us. Thus also in Job it is said, Brimstone shall be scattered upon his habitation, xviii. 15. which is thought to allude to this custom. Livy mentions this practice amongst the Romans, lib. 30. c. 15. Habet & in religionibus locum ad expiandas suffitu domus.

Homer describes the female servants descending with torches; this is done to shew the exact time of the action of this book, which is comprehended in the Evening of the fortieth day.

Ulysses forbids Euryclea to bring a better Garment: this little particularity is inserted with judgment; for the disguise of Ulysses in the garb of a beggar contributes to encrease the incredulity of Penelope, and consequently to all those doubts and fears, and that struggle between the love of a Husband and the dread of an Impostor, which are the subject of the succeeding Book.

This book contains the Discovery of Ulysses to Penelope. Monsieur Rapia is very severe upon some parts of it; whose objections I shall here recite.

The discovery of Ulysses to his Queen was the most favourable occasion imaginable for the Poet to give us some of the nicest touches of his art; but as he has managed it, it has nothing but faint and weak surprizes, cold and languishing astonishments, and very little of that delicacy and exquisiteness which ought to express a conjugal tenderness: He leaves his wife too long in doubt and distrust, and she is too cautious and circumspect; the formalities she observes in being fully assur'd, and her care to act with security, are set down in number and measure, lest she should fall into any mistake; and this particularity makes the story dull, in a place that so much requires briskness and liveliness. Ought not the secret instinct of her love to have inspir'd her with other sentiments? and should not her heart have told her, what her eyes could not? Love is penetrating, and whispers more to us than the senses can convey; but Homer understood not this Philosophy: Virgil who makes Dido foresee that Æneas designs to leave her, would have made better advantage of this favourable opportunity.

The strength of this objection consists chiefly in the long incredulity of Penelope, and the slowness she uses to make an undeniable discovery: This Rapin judges to be contrary to the passion of love, and consequently that the Poet writes unnaturally.

There is somewhat of the Frenchman in this Criticism: Homer in his opinion wants vivacity; and if Rapin had been to have drawn Ulysses, we had seen him all transport and extasy. But where there is most fancy, there is often the least judgment. Penelope thought Ulysses to be dead; he had been absent twenty years; and thro' absence and his present disguise, he was another person from that Ulysses whom she knew, when he sail'd to Troy; so that he was become an absolute stranger. From this observation we may appeal to the Reader's judgment, if Penelope, without full conviction, ought to be persuaded that this person was the real Ulysses? And how could she be convinc'd, but by asking many questions, and descending to particularities, which must necessarily occasion delay in the discovery? If indeed Ulysses and Penelope had met after a shorter absence, when one view would have assur'd her that he was her real husband, then too much transport could not have been express'd by the Poet: but this is not the case, she is first to know her Husband, before she could or ought to express her fondness for his return, otherwise she might be in danger of misplacing it upon an impostor: but she is no sooner convinc'd that Ulysses is actually return'd, but she receives him with as much fondness as can be expressed, or as Rapin could require.

'Till this moment the discovery was not evidently made, and her passion would have been unseasonable; but this is no sooner done, but she falls into an agony of affection. If she had here appear'd cool and indifferent, there had been weight in Rapin's objections. Besides Aristotle informs us, there was a Play, call'd, The False Ulysses: It was form'd upon a story of a person who design'd to surprize Penelope, and told her, that he was her husband; and to confirm it, pretended to remember a Bow, which he used before he went to the siege of Troy. This shews that Penelope had been in danger from impostors, and it is therefore very prudent in her to be upon the guard, and not to yield without full conviction.

But there is a dispute of a different nature mentioned by Monsieur Bayle; namely, whether if Penelope had yielded to an impostor, believing him to be really Ulysses, she had been guilty of adultery? Monsieur Basnage thus argues: “Let us suppose a wife transported with love for an husband, running eagerly to the person she mistakes for him: This woman has no design to be deceived, one cannot blame her ardor; it is lawful, if he proves her real husband: in short, her ignorance is involuntary, and occasion'd solely by a laudable passion for her husband: Yet, if this person prove an adulterer, is the wife entirely excusable? ought her eagerness and precipitation to give her no uneasiness? undoubtedly it ought, because she is suppos'd to act precipitately, without a full examination: her passion is stronger than her reason, and therefore she is blameable.” The Author of the General Critique on Maimbourg is more indulgent: He judges that if a woman does not refuse a strict examination out of a blameable motive, she is excusable, tho' she happens to oblige an impostor. “If a wife, deceived by the resemblance between her husband and an impostor, shall allow the latter all the privileges of the marriage-bed, this action is no stain to her chastity; and the husband would be the most unreasonable creature breathing, should he blame it as a breach of conjugal fidelity, provided she is no way accessary to the imposition.” So that according to this Author, tho' the wife is betray'd by her precipitation, yet she is to be accounted innocent; because the precipitation is occasion'd by a vehemence of love for her husband. But I fear few husbands who should take their wives in such circumstances would excuse them, or believe that they had us'd due circumspection. In short, Monsieur Bayle rightly decides the question, by saying, that every person who acts precipitately is culpable; and that no person can act rationally, without a full and satisfactory examination. And indeed if this rule were observ'd, there would scarce be any room for the aforesaid supposition. The resemblance between man and man is never so perfect, but the difference upon a strict observation is discernible; we may therefore conclude, that a wife who should suffer such a deceit, was not very unwilling to be deceiv'd; especially when there must be between a man and wife a thousand particularities, which could only be known to the wife and husband, which upon a due scrutiny would discover the imposture.

I fear I shall be tedious to the Reader, by mentioning another difficulty of a similar nature started by Seneca. “If any person should make an assignation with his own wife in disguise, supposing her to be the wife of another person, would he be guilty of adultery?” He answers in the affirmative; tho' the wife her self would be innocent; for he is guilty intentionally. This may be illustrated by the example of Jacob, who was blameless when he was deceived by Leah, who personated his wife Rachel; but Leah was culpable, tho' Jacob was innocent, for she very well knew that she was not wife to Jacob. But this is the province of a Casuist, not of a Commentator.

In the Greek it is literally, Ulysses is come, he is at length come to his Palace. This last circumstance is not a tautalogy; for, observes Eustathius, a person may be returned to his country, and yet never arrive at his family: Thus Agamemnon reach'd his dominions in safety, but was assassinated before he came to his Palace. We may observe in general, that Euryclea and Penelope thro' their whole conference speak with brevity; Homer was too good a judge of human nature, to represent them speaking with prolixity. Passion is always in haste, and delivers it self with precipitation; and this is very well painted in this interview: Euryclea is in a transport of joy for the return of Ulysses, and Penelope has all her affections awaken'd at the news of it.

This is an admirable sentiment: it is consonant to many expressions in the holy Scriptures. God is the Lord of spirits, and gives and takes away as seems best to his infinite wisdom. The thoughts of man, as well as his life, are equally in the power of the Almighty.

Homer, observes Eustathius, very judiciously mentions this profound sleep of Penelope; for it might have been thought improbable, that she should not wake at the noise and confusion of the battle. It was solely to reconcile it to credibility, that in a preceding book Pallas was introduc'd to throw her into it: besides, the womens apartment was always in the upper part of the house, and was from thence called υπερωον: and consequently Penelope was at a sufficient distance from the place of the combat, and may be easily suppos'd not to be wak'd by it.

The circumstance of Penelope's not being awak'd by the cries of the Suitors, furnishes us with a reason why they are not heard by the Ithacans that liv'd near the Palace: for if she who is within the Palace is not disturb'd by the noise, it is credible enough, that the Greeks who liv'd at some distance from the Palace should not hear it.

We are not to gather from this transport of Penelope, that she is fully convinc'd of the return of Ulysses: She is yet incredulous; but she must have been insensible if she had continued unmov'd at the mention of the arrival of an husband, whose return has been describ'd thro' the whole Odyssey as the chief object of all her desires. Besides, she receives the death of the Suitors with joy; she cannot disbelieve the testimony of Euryclea concerning their deaths; but thinking it impossible that they should be slain by any one person, she ascribes their destruction not to Ulysses, but a Deity. But then is not such a supposition extravagant? and can it be reconciled to probability, that a God should really be supposed to descend to work their destruction? It may be answer'd, that the excess of the assertion ought to be ascrib'd to the excess of joy in the speaker: Penelope is in a transport, and no wonder if she speaks with amplification: she judges it impossible that such a great event should be wrought by a mortal hand; and it is therefore very natural, while she is under a surprize, and her thoughts rais'd above the bounds of calm Reason, to ascribe it to a Deity.

It has been believ'd that all the notions of good and bad Dæmons that prevail'd among the Antients were borrow'd from truth, and that they receiv'd them by tradition from the offices of good and bad Angels: If I might be allow'd to make this supposition, then what Penelope here speaks may be reconcil'd to strict verity; then we may find a reason why she may without extravagance ascribe the Suitors deaths to a Dæmon, or Deity. Thus, 2 Kings, cap. xix. v. 35. That night the Angel of the Lord went out and smote in the camp of the Assyrians an hundred fourscore and five thousand. If this supposition be thought disallowable, the former will be a sufficient vindication. I will only add that the Poet artfully turns the incredulity of Penelope to the praise of Ulysses; the exploit was so great, that no mortal was brave enough to perform it; it must therefore be wrought by a God; but this God is at length discover'd to be Ulysses.

This assertion is made with great judgment. Euryclea had given almost a demonstrative proof that she was not mistaken in the person of Ulysses: she had instanced in the scar which he received by a boar on mount Parnassus; and this seem'd to be an undeniable evidence of her veracity: what method then could the Poet take to carry on Penelope's incredulity, and give her room to resist such evidence with any appearance of reason? This is very well explain'd by Eustathius. Penelope (observes that Author) answers with profound wisdom; her words are short, but contain excellent truth and morality: This is her meaning: “Euryclea, you appeal to your senses for the truth of your affirmation: you saw the wound, and touch'd it as you bath'd him; and he forbad you to make a discovery of his person: from hence you conclude, that it is Ulysses who has slain the Suitors; not remembring that the Gods are able thus to shew themselves to man, and assume at their pleasure such disguises: How then do you know but this is a God? Are you able to know the ways of a Deity?” To this Euryclea makes no reply; from whence we may gather, that it was believ'd to be an undeniable truth, that the divine Beings sometimes assum'd the shape of man, and appear'd visibly upon earth. Such expressions as these might almost persuade us of the reality of a former conjecture, that these notions were borrow'd from a tradition of the appearances of Angels; they being so consonant to the testimony of the holy Scriptures, and so agreeable to the manifestations of those cœlestial Beings.

Penelope apprehends that the person mentioned by Euryclea is not Ulysses; yet her apprehensions are not so strong as to exclude all hopes that he is her husband; in this state of uncertainty she descends, doubtful whether to meet him as such, or first to prove him whether he be the real Ulysses; and this explains her conduct in this place: If he evidently were Ulysses, she ought to receive him with transport; but if he be not Ulysses, then all such advances would be acts of immodesty, and a reproach to her prudence. Ladies are best judges of what is decent amongst Ladies, and Madam Dacier affirms, that the point of decency is well maintain'd by Homer thro' this whole interview; and that Antiquity can shew nothing wherein a severity of manners is better observed. And indeed it must be allow'd, that in this respect Penelope proceeds with no more than a necessary caution; it would have been very absurd to have describ'd her flying to the embraces of a stranger, merely upon the testimony of Euryclea, without waiting for a personal and ocular demonstration.

The circumstance of persons of figure being plac'd by a column occurs frequently in the Odyssey, it may therefore be necessary to explain it: it is mentioned twice in the eighth book, προς κιονα μακρον ερεισας, but being there apply'd to Demodocus who was blind, it may be thought to mean only that he lean'd against the pillar by reason of his blindness: but this is not the full import of the words, they denote dignity; and a seat erected near the column was a seat of distinction. Thus 2 Kings xi. 14. Behold the King stood by a pillar, επι του στυλου, as the manner was, and the Princes, &c. by the King. Thus we see the Royal station was by some remarkable Pillar; Josephus expresses it by επι της σκηνης, which probably is a corruption; it ought to be επι της στηλης, juxta columnam: Thus again, 2 Kings xxiii. 3. And the King stood by a pillar, and made a covenant, &c. So that by this expression of Ulysses being seated by a column, we are to understand that he received Penelope as a King; he took the royal seat, to convince her that he was the real Ulysses.

We have all along been vindicating the conduct of Penelope, for not immediately acknowledging Ulysses. Her ignorance of his person is her vindication; but how then is Ulysses to be justified, who is in no doubt about Penelope? Why does he not fly with transport to the wife of his affection? The reason is very evident: he very well knows that Penelope is uncertain about his person; he therefore forbears to offer violence to her modesty by any caresses, while she is in this state of uncertainty, and which decency requires her to refuse, till she is assur'd that the person who offers them is Ulysses.

Homer tells us, that Ulysses turn'd his eyes toward the ground. Eustathius imagines, that he does it that Penelope may not immediately discover him; but perhaps the Poet intended no more than to draw Ulysses here, as he drew him in the Iliad, Lib. 3. and describe him according to his usual behaviour.

Thus also he is represented by Ovid, Metam. lib. 13.

The Reader will certainly be curious to know how Penelope accosts Ulysses in this first interview, and the Poet manages it with excellent judgment: She must be suppos'd to be under a great surprize and confusion of thought, this surprize takes away her speech; she is tost between hopes and fears, and consequently it is very natural, before she speaks, to examine him with her eyes.

It has been objected that Telemachus here makes too free a remonstrance to Penelope; and that he is wanting in reverence towards his mother. Eustathius answers, that he speaks no more than Ulysses says himself, in the process of the story, and consequently he is no more blameable. But the case is not the same, there is a difference between a son and a husband, and what is decent in the mouth of the latter would be irreverent in the former. Spondanus is of opinion, that he offends against decency, juveniliter nimis insultavit; and Ulysses seems to repress his ardor.

Dacier answers, that Telemachus being fully assur'd that it is the real Ulysses, seems shock'd at the indifference of Penelope. And indeed the warmth of the expression is to be imputed to the emotion of the speaker; so that we are not to look upon it as an outrage of decency toward Penelope, but a warm expostulation occasion'd by his zeal for Ulysses.

This expression furnishes another cause for the incredulity of Penelope; Ulysses imputes it to his disguise, and is far from resenting it as a want of conjugal affection. I must confess, that here may seem to be an unseasonable transition: Homer brings Ulysses and Penelope together, raises our expectations to see a warm and tender description at the discovery of the husband to the wife, and all of a sudden he starts from the subject, and leaves us under an uncertainty equal to that of Penelope. The scene closes too abruptly, and Homer acts like one who invites his guests to an entertainment, and when they were sate down with an eager appetite, takes away their dinner. But then it may be answer'd, that the occasion presses: Ulysses finds it necessary to provide for his own safety, before the people of Ithaca are inform'd of the slaughter of the Suitors; this is the dictate of good sense; he first acts the wise man, by guarding against an imminent danger; and then shews the tender husband, by his affection to Penelope: and this is the reason why he adjourns the discovery. Besides, this interval, which is very short, gives time to Penelope to recollect her spirits from surprize, and makes her mistress of her own thoughts. In that view the Reader is to look upon this break, like a pause between the acts in a Tragedy, and as an artful interruption to introduce the unravelling more naturally, and with greater probability.

Ulysses here argues very conclusively: If the person who has shed one man's blood only, and that man of inferior station; if he is yet obliged to fly into banishment, lest he should be slain by any of the dead person's relations or friends; what have they to fear, who have not only slain one man, but above an hundred, and these not Plebians, but Princes? They must necessarily have many avengers, who will be ready to pursue our lives.

But it may be objected, that Ulysses is a King, and therefore above apprehensions of punishment. 'Tis true, Ulysses is a King, yet subject to the laws: his government was not so despotic, as to have no reason to fear the resentments of the chief families of his subjects, whose heirs were slain by his hand. I cannot entirely agree with Dacier in this last sentiment: Ulysses had only done an act of justice upon these offenders, and had transgress'd no law by it, and ought therefore to apprehend no vengeance from the law. I should rather ascribe the apprehensions of Ulysses, to a fear of a sudden assault from the friends of the Suitors before he could discover himself to be the real Ulysses. He is afraid of an assassination, not a legal punishment; the rage of the people, not the justice of the law.

Ulysses, to prove Telemachus, and to form a judgment of his wisdom, asks his advice upon the present emergence; but the Poet in his answer observes a due decency: Telemachus pays a laudable deference to the superior wisdom of Ulysses, and modestly submits to his judgment. What we are to gather from this conduct is, that no person should be so self-confiding in his own judgment, as to despise that of other men, though those men are inferior in wisdom.

This is an instance of the art of Ulysses, essential to his character, and maintain'd thro' the whole Odyssey. Eustathius excellently explains the reason of this conduct: The Suitors had been accustomed to retire from the Palace, and sleep in other places by night: it would therefore have alarm'd the whole city, and made them apprehensive that some calamity had befallen them, if there had not appear'd a seeming reason why they returned not to their several houses as usual; Ulysses therefore invents this stratagem to deceive them into an opinion that they stayed to celebrate the Queen's nuptials. But there appears to be a strong objection against this part of the relation: we have already seen the Suitors slain, without being heard by the Ithacans of the city; is it then probable that the sound of the music should be heard abroad, when the cries, shouts and groans, during the fight, were not heard out of the Palace? Was the music louder than these united noises? It is not easy to solve this difficulty, unless we are allowed to imagine that the more than usual stay of the Suitors in the Palace had rais'd the curiosity of some of the Ithacans to enquire the reason of it; who consequently approaching the Palace might hear the musick and dancing, and conclude that it was occasion'd by the Queen's marriage. Besides, in the stillness of the night, a lower sound may be further heard, than one more loud, during the noise and hurry of the day: it being evident from the preceding book, that the fight was by day.

It may be ask'd, what occasions this recess of Ulysses? Will he be better able to resist his enemies in the country than in the city? The answer is, he withdraws that he may avoid the first resentments of the Ithacans, upon the discovery of the death of the Suitors: Besides, it is by this method in his power to conceal his person, till the violence of the people is settled; or raise a party to resist their efforts: at the worst, he is certain to secure his flight, if his affairs should be reduc'd to extremities.

These words have given occasion of censure from Monsieur de la Mothe de Vayér: According to whom the precaution of Penelope is not much to be admir'd; “Ulysses made himself suspicious by expressing so much eagerness to go to bed with Penelope; she was so far from having time enough to know him, that she had scarce spoke three words to him, but he bluntly commands Euryclea to get the bed ready for them,” So that, according to this Author, Penelope mistrusts his impatience; she imagines the reason why he is so hasty, is because, he fears that a longer time would discover his imposture, and frustrate his desires. And indeed if Ulysses had given such a command, the objection had not been without a foundation. But La Mothe is deceiv'd: Ulysses does not ask a bed for himself and Penelope, but for himself alone, because his wife vouchsafed not to come near him, and used him with a seeming cruelty.

which is literally enough render'd in the translation.

It is not easy to translate this passage literally.

Eustathius explains μεγαλιζομαι to signifie, I am not of a proud heart; αθεριζω, I despise not your poverty; αγαμαι, I am no longer under an astonishment; or, ουδε λιην εκπλητομαι, I cease to be surpriz'd at what I see and hear. Thus Penelope speaks negatively, and the meaning of her words are, that she is not influenc'd by pride and cruelty, to persist in her incredulity, but by a laudable care and caution. Eustathius proposes Penelope as a pattern to all women upon the like occasion: her own eyes persuade her that the person with whom she confers is Ulysses; Euryclea acknowledges her master; Telemachus his father; yet she dares not immediately credit her own eye, Euryclea or Telemachus: and the same Author concludes with a pretty observation, that Ulysses found it easier to subdue above an hundred enemies than the diffidence and incredulity of Penelope.

It must be allowed that this is a very artful turn of thought in Penelope. Ulysses commands a bed to be prepared, Penelope catches the word, and seeming to consent, orders Euryclea to carry the bed out of the bridal apartment, and prepare it. Now this bed was of such a nature as to be inwrought into the substance of the apartment it self, and could not be removed: if therefore Ulysses had acquiesc'd in the injunction given by Penelope, and not discovered the impossibility of it, she might very justly have concluded him an impostor, being manifestly ignorant of the secret of his own marriage-bed.

But Eustathius starts an objection against this whole process of the discovery, which he calls insolvible; and indeed if Homer fails in the unravelling of his Poem, he is to be severely blam'd: Tully is of his opinion, Illic enim debet toto animo a poetâ in dissolutionem nodi agi; eaque præcipua fabulæ pars est, quæ requirit diligentiam. The difficulty rais'd by Eustathius is as follows: Penelope imagines that the person who pretends to be her husband, is not really Ulysses, but a God, who not only assumes his form, but, to favour the imposture, the resemblance of the wound receiv'd from the boar: Now if he be a God, how is it possible she should conceive him to be ignorant of the secret of the marriage-bed, and consequently how can she be convinc'd of the reality of Ulysses from his knowledge of it, when it must necessarily be known to a God, as well as to the real Ulysses? all that she ought to gather from it is, that the person with whom she speaks is Ulysses, or a God. Eustathius replies, that Penelope upon the discovery of the secret makes no scruple to yield; because whether it be Ulysses, or a God, her case is happy: if he prove to be Ulysses, she has her wishes; if a God, it is no small piece of good fortune. Dacier condemns this solution, and tells us, that Penelope was so faithful to her husband, that she would not have received even a God into the place of Ulysses: The true answer (continues that Author) is to be drawn from the Pagan Theology, according to which the inferior Deities were suppos'd to have a finite knowledge, and consequently Penelope might think the discovery of the nature of the nuptial-bed a full conviction of the reality of Ulysses, it being so great a secret that even a God might be ignorant of it. But this is all fancy; for allowing this person to be a God, why might not Penelope imagine him to be a Deity of the superior order, and for that reason well acquainted with the secrets of this nuptial bow'r? especially because Jupiter himself was notorious for such amorous illusions. Dacier her self confesses this to be no just solution, but gives a very different reason: How is it possible (says she) that this bed and whole apartment should be built by the single hand of Ulysses, without being seen by any person while he builds it? or how can any one be assured that a secret that is known to a third person (Actoris) is not thro' weakness or interest discovered to others? 'Tis true the manner of the discovery entirely depends upon the choice of the Poet, but I could wish that he had chosen a method more probable than this of the nuptial bed, which in my judgment (continues the same Author) is unworthy of the Odyssey. I am persuaded that this is one of the places where (as Horace writes) Homer nods.

I will lay together what occurs to me by way of reply. The first objection is, that Penelope imagines Ulysses to be a God, and consequently his knowledge of the nuptial bed ought not to have induc'd her to believe him to be the real Ulysses: The answer is, Penelope thought him a God only during her first transport; it is to be imputed to her surprize, that she at all thinks him a Deity: This is very evident, for from the moment she saw him, the thought of his divinity vanishes, and she never mentions one word concerning such a supposition, nay from the first glance she almost believes him to be the real Ulysses.

She is so far from thinking him a Deity, that she is almost persuaded that he is her husband. If this be allow'd, the first difficulty ceases: For granting her belief that the person before her is a real man, and no man but Ulysses was acquainted with the nuptial bed; it follows, that this man is the real Ulysses, and that this incident is not ill chosen by the Poet, in the discovery of Ulysses.