A Beggar’s Banquet
A mask may easily enough be dropped - oft by design, and sometimes not. When the former; that revealed just that which was intended. And, when the latter; a face is shown, alas that better left unknown. - Anne Dromache, October 3rd 2020
Oh, what a thing would it be should every Beggar's Banquet be every bit fit enough for a king - (or better still a queen!) What when the art of Gastfreundshaft: simple kindness and fine manner; conducted in kind and manner likewise, and no matter one's stand in life - nor the given or guessed circumstance. - Anne Dromache, October 3rd 2020
book 17: insults and abuse
pp. 386-407
As Telemachus sets off to the palace where his mother awaits him, Odysseus returns to his disguise as he furthers his plot against the suitors. Heading into town with Eumaeus, he soon discovers that not everyone will treat an old, impoverished beggar with the respect and kindness accorded to him by Eumaeus and in his first meeting with his son.
Firstly, the goatherd Melanthius, in cohorts now with the suitors, maligns and assaults him, and then at the palace he is ridiculed by the suitors, and most especially Antinous who will not even give him some meagre food scraps. Odysseus learns the hard way that there is hospitality for some, and only hostility for others.
Some interesting interludes. Again – a dog. But this time the reaction is different; the old stray, once Odysseus’ favourite puppy Argos, and now neglected and dying, sees behind the guise to his first master from twenty years before. What happens to a dog’s soul in those bare moments between the joy of recognition and death? And, as he stands at the portal of his house, his palace, momentarily Odysseus is so overwhelmed that, in describing so precisely the layout, he almost reveals himself to Eumaeus – who registers surprise at the old beggar’s familiarity with this place, but puts it down to gifts of observation.
In the midst of the raucous feasting, Penelope is made aware of the continued bad behaviour of all those young men seeking her favour, and their treatment of an old man who had travelled from afar and wanted only a morsel to stem his hunger. That he should have heard of Odysseus and his fate, does she wonder, and ask of Eumaeus. She must now seek counsel with this stranger.
book 18: two beggars
pp. 408-423
Even beggars have a place to defend, and as medieval knights may duel on a question of honour, so must a beggar fight for the meagre favours that may be tossed his way. And Odysseus must now contest his right to be tolerated on the fringes; and do so against the beggar Irus, and cajoled by the suitors with an appetite for blood equal only to that for dripping roasted meats. Strangely, the suitors are taken aback, but no more, at the gladiatorial muscles revealed beneath the rags of the bedraggled old man, and his victory gives Odysseus the opportunity to warn the best amongst the suitors, Amphinomus, that he should find a reason to depart, for bloody times lie ahead. Alas, the die is cast. Amphinomus never had a choice.
Penelope, as an instrument to Athena’s scheme, makes herself impossibly glam, and with seductive gestures enters the banquet fray. With promises of a forthcoming decision on whom she will favour with her self, Penelope coerces an abundance of gifts and treasure. Something which impresses the attentive Odysseus no end! Not so the behaviour of the slave girls, earning only his displeasure – and one fears they too will pay a price.
Tempers are frayed amongst all gathered, but Telemachus displays an acumen of which his father would be proud, and after final drinks are drunk each of those doomed suitors is called by the promise of warm bed and sleep.