What a tender pause Menelaos makes, out of respect for Telemachos' tears:
He spoke, and stirred in the other the longing to weep for his father,
and the tears fell from his eyes to the ground when he heard his father's
name, holding with both hands the robe that was stained with purple
up before his eyes. And Menelaos perceived it,
and now he pondered two ways within, in mind and in spirit
whether he would leave it to him to name his father,
or whether he should speak first and ask and inquire about everything. (113–19)
"craftiness" (251): another word for Odysseus' "wiliness," or "resourcefulness." In "The Iliad," this comes across rather less favorably, more like "scheming," especially in contrast to Achilles' valor. But here, in a narrative beset by catastrophes, it seems more apt, and more laudable.
Menelaos relates a fascinating anecdote about how Helen circled the wooden horse, calling out the names of the Greek soldiers, even emulating "the voice of the wife of each of the Argives" (279). Odysseus, too, will try on different 'voices' throughout the poem, including pseudonyms.
385ff: Menelaos' tale of wrestling knowledge from Proteus.
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| Giulio Bonasone, 1555, "Menelaus Binding Proteus" |
625ff: "meanwhile before the palace of Odysseus the suitors / amused themselves . . ." A kind of cinematic moment here, as we are presented with a simultaneous scene in another location: Antinoos plots an ambush for Telemachus' return.
810ff: Penelope's lament, to the dreamed-induced image of her sister, anticipates the piteous letter that Roman poet Ovid crafts for the voice of Penelope in his Heroides.
An interlude on our theme of 'islands,' by physicist Marcelo Gleiser:
So, the image of an island captures our struggle to make sense of things, surrounded by an ocean of the unknown. As the island grows, so do the shores of our ignorance: as we learn more about the world we are able to ask questions we couldn't have anticipated before.