Clavis Libri

Character

Penelope

Who She Is

Penelope is the wife of Odysseus, daughter of Icarius and mother of Telemachus, and she is the queen who holds the house of Ithaca together during her husband's absence. Nobles from Ithaca and the neighboring islands court her and consume the household, and she neither refuses the marriage nor decides it. The poem shows her through fidelity and cunning, métis in its feminine form, her husband's mirror image, and she tests what she hears. She weeps by day and by night, and she knows how to turn waiting into a tool.

Trajectory

In Book I, Penelope first appears coming down from her room, while Phemius sings for the suitors the painful return of the Achaeans. She asks him to sing something else, because the song reminds her of her husband, and her fidelity shows before any test. Telemachus contradicts her in front of everyone and sends her back to the loom and the distaff, and she is startled, obeys, and weeps until Athena gives her sleep.

τοίην γὰρ κεφαλὴν ποθέω μεμνημένη αἰεί, (1.343), for I long for such a head, always remembering it.
Book I: The council of the gods and Telemachus
μῦθος δʼ ἄνδρεσσι μελήσει / πᾶσι, μάλιστα δʼ ἐμοί· τοῦ γὰρ κράτος ἔστʼ ἐνὶ οἴκῳ. (1.358-359), speech will be the concern of men, of all of them, and above all of me, for the power in this house is mine.
Book I: The council of the gods and Telemachus

In Book II, Penelope is not on stage, but her ruse is recounted by Antinous: she asked the suitors to wait until she finished a shroud for the hero Laertes, weaving by day and unraveling by night, and she deceived the Achaeans for three years, until a servant informed on her and she was forced to finish. Antinous tells the ending as the suitors' victory, but the detail the poem keeps is the other one, the three years of delay. Antinous demands that Telemachus send his mother away, and Telemachus refuses, because of Icarius and his mother's Erinyes.

κοῦροι ἐμοὶ μνηστῆρες, ἐπεὶ θάνε δῖος Ὀδυσσεύς, / μίμνετʼ ἐπειγόμενοι τὸν ἐμὸν γάμον, εἰς ὅ κε φᾶρος / ἐκτελέσω, μή μοι μεταμώνια νήματʼ ὄληται, / Λαέρτῃ ἥρωι ταφήιον, (2.96-99), young men, my suitors, since godlike Odysseus is dead, wait, though you are eager for my marriage, until I finish a cloth, so that the threads are not lost in vain: a shroud for the hero Laertes.
Book II: The assembly in Ithaca
ὣς τὸ μὲν ἐξετέλεσσε καὶ οὐκ ἐθέλουσʼ ὑπʼ ἀνάγκης· (2.110), so she finished it, unwilling, out of necessity.
Book II: The assembly in Ithaca

In Book III, she does not appear. Nestor tells how Clytemnestra at first refused Aegisthus and gave in only when the gods' fate bound her. The book does not draw the parallel with Penelope, who resists in Ithaca, and leaves the reader to draw it.

ἡ δʼ ἦ τοι τὸ πρὶν μὲν ἀναίνετο ἔργον ἀεικὲς / δῖα Κλυταιμνήστρη· φρεσὶ γὰρ κέχρητʼ ἀγαθῇσι· (3.265-266), she, the divine Clytemnestra, at first refused the shameful deed, for her mind held good thoughts.
Book III: Telemachus in Pylos

In Book IV, the herald Medon tells her that the suitors have set an ambush for Telemachus, and she faints. Her question is why her son went, and the hypothesis she forms is that the journey is meant to erase his name. She accuses the maids of not waking her, Eurycleia confesses she knew and advises her to pray to Athena, and Penelope prays, recalling Odysseus's sacrifices. Athena sends a phantom to console her in the figure of her sister, who assures her that her son will return and refuses to say whether her husband is alive.

κῆρυξ, τίπτε δέ μοι πάϊς οἴχεται; οὐδέ τί μιν χρεὼ / νηῶν ὠκυπόρων ἐπιβαινέμεν, αἵ θʼ ἁλὸς ἵπποι / ἀνδράσι γίγνονται, περόωσι δὲ πουλὺν ἐφʼ ὑγρήν. / ἦ ἵνα μηδʼ ὄνομʼ αὐτοῦ ἐν ἀνθρώποισι λίπηται (4.707-710), herald, why has my child gone? He had no need to board swift ships, which are horses of the sea to men and cross the vast wet expanse. Is it so that not even his name will be left among men?
Book IV: Telemachus in Sparta
οὐ μέν τοι κεῖνόν γε διηνεκέως ἀγορεύσω, / ζώει ὅ γʼ ἦ τέθνηκε· κακὸν δʼ ἀνεμώλια βάζειν (4.836-837), I will not tell you about that man straight through, whether he lives or has died; it is bad to speak empty words.
Book IV: Telemachus in Sparta

In Book V, Penelope is not on stage, but she is the measure of the poem's hardest refusal. Calypso offers Odysseus immortality, and he answers that Penelope is inferior to her in appearance and stature, because she is mortal, and that he still wants to return home every day.

πότνα θεά, μή μοι τόδε χώεο· οἶδα καὶ αὐτὸς / πάντα μάλʼ, οὕνεκα σεῖο περίφρων Πηνελόπεια / εἶδος ἀκιδνοτέρη μέγεθός τʼ εἰσάντα ἰδέσθαι· / ἡ μὲν γὰρ βροτός ἐστι, σὺ δʼ ἀθάνατος καὶ ἀγήρως. / ἀλλὰ καὶ ὣς ἐθέλω καὶ ἐέλδομαι ἤματα πάντα / οἴκαδέ τʼ ἐλθέμεναι καὶ νόστιμον ἦμαρ ἰδέσθαι (5.215-220), revered goddess, do not be angry with me over this. I know it all very well myself: that prudent Penelope is inferior to you in appearance and in stature, to anyone who looks at you face to face. For she is mortal, and you are immortal and ageless. Yet even so I want and long every day to go home and see the day of my return.
Book V: Calypso and the raft

In Books VI, VII, VIII, IX, X and XII, Penelope stays offstage. The poem follows Odysseus's journey, and her waiting becomes the subject again when Hades speaks of her.

In Book XI, Odysseus's mother tells him in Hades that Penelope remains at home with a steadfast mind, spending nights and days in tears. Agamemnon, killed by his own wife, advises Odysseus not to reveal the whole story to her, and then immediately makes an exception: Penelope is very sensible and knows well how to hold counsel in her mind.

ἀλλʼ οὐ σοί γʼ, Ὀδυσεῦ, φόνος ἔσσεται ἔκ γε γυναικός· / λίην γὰρ πινυτή τε καὶ εὖ φρεσὶ μήδεα οἶδε / κούρη Ἰκαρίοιο, περίφρων Πηνελόπεια. (11.444-446), but for you, Odysseus, there will be no killing by a woman; for she is very sensible and knows well the counsels in her mind, the daughter of Icarius, the prudent Penelope.
Book XI: The descent to the dead

In Book XIII, Odysseus prays to find at home his blameless wife and his people safe. Athena describes Penelope's state to him: she weeps without rest for his return, and gives hope to all the suitors, promising and sending messages, while her mind wishes for something else.

τά μοι θεοὶ Οὐρανίωνες / ὄλβια ποιήσειαν· ἀμύμονα δʼ οἴκοι ἄκοιτιν / νοστήσας εὕροιμι σὺν ἀρτεμέεσσι φίλοισιν. (13.41-43), may the gods of heaven make these things blessed for me; may I, returning, find at home my blameless wife, with my dear ones safe and sound.
Book XIII: The arrival in Ithaca
ἡ δὲ σὸν αἰεὶ νόστον ὀδυρομένη κατὰ θυμὸν / πάντας μέν ῥʼ ἔλπει καὶ ὑπίσχεται ἀνδρὶ ἑκάστῳ, / ἀγγελίας προϊεῖσα, νόος δέ οἱ ἄλλα μενοινᾷ. (13.379-381), and she, always lamenting your return in her heart, gives hope to all and promises each man, sending messages, but her mind desires something else.
Book XIII: The arrival in Ithaca

In Book XIV, she is not on stage. Eumaeus says that the wanderers who carry false news go to the queen, who welcomes them and weeps as is customary, and that he goes to town only when she calls for him.

In Book XV, Athena warns Telemachus that her father and brothers already press her to marry Eurymachus, who has raised the bride-price, and she justifies the warning by what she says she knows of women's hearts. The book does not confirm the generalization, because Penelope does not appear. Telemachus later says that she rarely shows herself to the suitors and weaves upstairs.

οἶσθα γὰρ οἷος θυμὸς ἐνὶ στήθεσσι γυναικός· / κείνου βούλεται οἶκον ὀφέλλειν ὅς κεν ὀπυίῃ, / παίδων δὲ προτέρων καὶ κουριδίοιο φίλοιο / οὐκέτι μέμνηται τεθνηκότος οὐδὲ μεταλλᾷ. (15.20-23), for you know what kind of heart a woman has in her breast: she wants to increase the house of the man who marries her, and of the children of an earlier marriage and of her beloved husband, now dead, she no longer remembers, nor asks.
Book XV: Telemachus's return

In Book XVI, Eumaeus and Telemachus speak of her: she holds out, weeping night and day, and Telemachus describes her as torn between keeping her husband's house and following the best suitor. Hearing from Medon that Antinous wants to kill her son, she comes down veiled and rebukes him before everyone, reminding him that Zeus is witness to suppliants and that Antinous's father was saved by Odysseus.

μάργε, τίη δὲ σὺ Τηλεμάχῳ θάνατόν τε μόρον τε / ῥάπτεις, οὐδʼ ἱκέτας ἐμπάζεαι, οἷσιν ἄρα Ζεὺς / μάρτυρος; οὐδʼ ὁσίη κακὰ ῥάπτειν ἀλλήλοισιν. (16.421-423), madman, why do you plot death and doom for Telemachus, disregarding suppliants, of whom Zeus is witness? It is not pious to plot evils against one another.
Book XVI: Father and son

In Book XVII, she embraces Telemachus weeping, hears the account of the journey and Theoclymenus's prophecy that Odysseus is already in Ithaca. She answers with a wish, not with belief. Hearing that Antinous struck a beggar, she says all the suitors are hateful and he the most of all, and she orders the stranger called. She laughs at her son's sneeze and sees in it a sign of the suitors' death.

ὡς ἦ τοι Ὀδυσεὺς ἤδη ἐν πατρίδι γαίῃ, / ἥμενος ἢ ἕρπων, τάδε πευθόμενος κακὰ ἔργα, / ἔστιν, ἀτὰρ μνηστῆρσι κακὸν πάντεσσι φυτεύει· (17.157-159), that Odysseus is already on his native soil, sitting or walking, informed of these wicked deeds, and he is planting evil for all the suitors;
Book XVII: The beggar in the palace
μαῖʼ, ἐχθροὶ μὲν πάντες, ἐπεὶ κακὰ μηχανόωνται· / Ἀντίνοος δὲ μάλιστα μελαίνῃ κηρὶ ἔοικε. (17.499-500), dear mother, they are all hateful, since they plot evil; but Antinous most of all resembles the black Ker.
Book XVII: The beggar in the palace
οὐχ ὁράᾳς ὅ μοι υἱὸς ἐπέπταρε πᾶσιν ἔπεσσι; / τῷ κε καὶ οὐκ ἀτελὴς θάνατος μνηστῆρσι γένοιτο / πᾶσι μάλʼ, οὐδέ κέ τις θάνατον καὶ κῆρας ἀλύξει. (17.545-547), do you not see how my son sneezed at all my words? So death would not be incomplete for the suitors, for all of them, and no one would escape death and the Keres.
Book XVII: The beggar in the palace

In Book XVIII, Athena puts in her heart the desire to appear before the suitors, a desire she herself finds strange. Adorned by the goddess, she comes down and rebukes Telemachus for letting a guest be mistreated. Facing Eurymachus, she recalls Odysseus's farewell, when he told her to remarry once her son had a beard, and complains that the suitors devour the household instead of bringing gifts. She receives the gifts they send for, and the narrator says Odysseus rejoices because she draws gifts from them while her mind thinks otherwise.

τῇ δʼ ἄρʼ ἐπὶ φρεσὶ θῆκε θεὰ γλαυκῶπις Ἀθήνη, / κούρῃ Ἰκαρίοιο, περίφρονι Πηνελοπείῃ, / μνηστήρεσσι φανῆναι, ὅπως πετάσειε μάλιστα / θυμὸν μνηστήρων ἰδὲ τιμήεσσα γένοιτο / μᾶλλον πρὸς πόσιός τε καὶ υἱέος ἢ πάρος ἦεν. (18.158-162), in her mind the goddess of the gleaming eyes, Athena, set the thought of appearing before the suitors, in the daughter of Icarius, the prudent Penelope, so that she might stir the suitors' hearts as much as possible and be more honored by her husband and son than she had been before.
Book XVIII: Irus and the suitors
αὐτὰρ ἐπὴν δὴ παῖδα γενειήσαντα ἴδηαι, / γήμασθʼ ᾧ κʼ ἐθέλῃσθα, τεὸν κατὰ δῶμα λιποῦσα. / κεῖνος τὼς ἀγόρευε· τὰ δὴ νῦν πάντα τελεῖται. (18.269-271), but when you see your son with a beard, marry whomever you wish, leaving your house. So he spoke, and now all of that is coming true.
Book XVIII: Irus and the suitors
αὐτοὶ τοί γʼ ἀπάγουσι βόας καὶ ἴφια μῆλα, / κούρης δαῖτα φίλοισι, καὶ ἀγλαὰ δῶρα διδοῦσιν· / ἀλλʼ οὐκ ἀλλότριον βίοτον νήποινον ἔδουσιν. (18.278-280), they themselves bring oxen and fat sheep, a feast for the girl's kin, and they give splendid gifts; but they do not devour another man's livelihood without repaying it.
Book XVIII: Irus and the suitors
ὣς φάτο, γήθησεν δὲ πολύτλας δῖος Ὀδυσσεύς, / οὕνεκα τῶν μὲν δῶρα παρέλκετο, θέλγε δὲ θυμὸν / μειλιχίοις ἐπέεσσι, νόος δέ οἱ ἄλλα μενοίνα. (18.281-283), so she spoke, and the long-suffering divine Odysseus rejoiced, because she drew gifts from them and soothed their hearts with gentle words, but her mind desired something else.
Book XVIII: Irus and the suitors

In Book XIX, speaking alone with the beggar, Penelope tells of the loom trick in her own words. She says she can no longer escape marriage, because her parents press her and her son is distressed by the goods being devoured, and she insists on knowing the stranger's lineage. She asks for the clothes Odysseus wore, weeps when she recognizes the signs, and, even after the stranger swears that her husband returns this year, answers that her foreboding says otherwise. She tells the dream of the twenty geese and the eagle that declares itself her husband, and when the stranger interprets it, she replies with the two gates of dreams. At last she announces the contest of the bow.

ὣς ἐφάμην, τοῖσιν δʼ ἐπεπείθετο θυμὸς ἀγήνωρ. / ἔνθα καὶ ἠματίη μὲν ὑφαίνεσκον μέγαν ἱστόν, / νύκτας δʼ ἀλλύεσκον, ἐπεὶ δαΐδας παραθείμην. (19.148-150), thus I spoke, and the proud heart was persuaded by these words. There I wove the great web by day, and by night I unraveled it, once I had set torches beside it.
Book XIX: Penelope and the scar
νῦν δʼ οὔτʼ ἐκφυγέειν δύναμαι γάμον οὔτε τινʼ ἄλλην / μῆτιν ἔθʼ εὑρίσκω· μάλα δʼ ὀτρύνουσι τοκῆες / γήμασθʼ, ἀσχαλάᾳ δὲ πάϊς βίοτον κατεδόντων, / γιγνώσκων· ἤδη γὰρ ἀνὴρ οἷός τε μάλιστα / οἴκου κήδεσθαι, τῷ τε Ζεὺς κῦδος ὀπάζει. (19.157-161), now I can neither escape the marriage nor find any other stratagem; my parents urge me strongly to marry, and my son is distressed by those who devour his goods, knowing it; for he is already a man most able to care for the household, and to him Zeus gives glory.
Book XIX: Penelope and the scar
ἀλλὰ καὶ ὥς μοι εἰπὲ τεὸν γένος, ὁππόθεν ἐσσί. / οὐ γὰρ ἀπὸ δρυός ἐσσι παλαιφάτου οὐδʼ ἀπὸ πέτρης. (19.162-163), but nonetheless tell me your lineage, where you are from. For you are not from an oak of old-told legend, nor from a rock.
Book XIX: Penelope and the scar
ὣς φάτο, τῇ δʼ ἔτι μᾶλλον ὑφʼ ἵμερον ὦρσε γόοιο, / σήματʼ ἀναγνούσῃ τά οἱ ἔμπεδα πέφραδʼ Ὀδυσσεύς. (19.249-250), thus he spoke, and roused in her a yet greater longing for lament, as she recognized the signs that Odysseus had firmly described to her.
Book XIX: Penelope and the scar
ἀλλά μοι ὧδʼ ἀνὰ θυμὸν ὀΐεται, ὡς ἔσεταί περ· / οὔτʼ Ὀδυσεὺς ἔτι οἶκον ἐλεύσεται, οὔτε σὺ πομπῆς / τεύξῃ, ἐπεὶ οὐ τοῖοι σημάντορές εἰσʼ ἐνὶ οἴκῳ / οἷος Ὀδυσσεὺς ἔσκε μετʼ ἀνδράσιν, εἴ ποτʼ ἔην γε, / ξείνους αἰδοίους ἀποπεμπέμεν ἠδὲ δέχεσθαι. (19.312-316), but thus my heart foresees it, as it will be: neither will Odysseus come back to the house, nor will you obtain an escort, since there are no such masters in the house as Odysseus was among men, if he ever was, to send off and welcome reverend guests.
Book XIX: Penelope and the scar
θάρσει, Ἰκαρίου κούρη τηλεκλειτοῖο· / οὐκ ὄναρ, ἀλλʼ ὕπαρ ἐσθλόν, ὅ τοι τετελεσμένον ἔσται. / χῆνες μὲν μνηστῆρες, ἐγὼ δέ τοι αἰετὸς ὄρνις / ἦα πάρος, νῦν αὖτε τεὸς πόσις εἰλήλουθα, / ὃς πᾶσι μνηστῆρσιν ἀεικέα πότμον ἐφήσω. (19.546-550), take heart, daughter of Icarius, far-famed one; this is no dream but a good waking vision, and it will be fulfilled for you. The geese are the suitors, and I, who was once the eagle bird to you, have now returned, your husband, who will bring a shameful doom upon all the suitors.
Book XIX: Penelope and the scar
δοιαὶ γάρ τε πύλαι ἀμενηνῶν εἰσὶν ὀνείρων· / αἱ μὲν γὰρ κεράεσσι τετεύχαται, αἱ δʼ ἐλέφαντι· / τῶν οἳ μέν κʼ ἔλθωσι διὰ πριστοῦ ἐλέφαντος, / οἵ ῥʼ ἐλεφαίρονται, ἔπεʼ ἀκράαντα φέροντες· / οἱ δὲ διὰ ξεστῶν κεράων ἔλθωσι θύραζε, / οἵ ῥʼ ἔτυμα κραίνουσι, βροτῶν ὅτε κέν τις ἴδηται. (19.562-567), for there are two gates of insubstantial dreams: one made of horn, the other of ivory. Those that come through the sawn ivory deceive, bringing words that do not come to pass; but those that come out through the polished horn accomplish truth, when a mortal sees them.
Book XIX: Penelope and the scar
νῦν δὲ μνηστήρεσσιν ἄεθλον τοῦτον ἐφήσω· / ὃς δέ κε ῥηΐτατʼ ἐντανύσῃ βιὸν ἐν παλάμῃσι / καὶ διοϊστεύσῃ πελέκεων δυοκαίδεκα πάντων, / τῷ κεν ἅμʼ ἑσποίμην, νοσφισσαμένη τόδε δῶμα (19.576-579), now I will set this contest before the suitors: whoever most easily stretches the bow in his hands and shoots an arrow through all twelve axes, I will follow him, leaving this house.
Book XIX: Penelope and the scar

In Book XX, she wakes at night, weeps, and prays to Artemis to send an arrow into her breast or carry her off in a storm, because she does not want to gladden the thoughts of a worse man. She tells how, that night, a man like her husband lay beside her, and her heart rejoiced, because she thought it was real. On the other side, Odysseus hears her weeping and imagines she has recognized him.

τῇδε γὰρ αὖ μοι νυκτὶ παρέδραθεν εἴκελος αὐτῷ, / τοῖος ἐὼν οἷος ᾖεν ἅμα στρατῷ· αὐτὰρ ἐμὸν κῆρ / χαῖρʼ, ἐπεὶ οὐκ ἐφάμην ὄναρ ἔμμεναι, ἀλλʼ ὕπαρ ἤδη. (20.88-90), for on this night, too, a man like him lay beside me, just such as he was when he went with the army; and my heart rejoiced, since I did not think it was a dream, but now reality.
Book XX: The omens

In Book XXI, she climbs to the treasure room, weeps with the bow on her knees, and carries it into the hall. She puts herself up as the prize for whoever strings the bow and shoots through the twelve axes. When Antinous objects to the beggar's trying, she says there is no good repute for those who devour a noble man's household, and she promises clothes to the guest. Telemachus sends her back, saying the bow is a matter for men, and she goes upstairs with her maids to weep for her husband until sleep comes.

θήσω γὰρ μέγα τόξον Ὀδυσσῆος θείοιο· / ὃς δέ κε ῥηΐτατʼ ἐντανύσῃ βιὸν ἐν παλάμῃσι / καὶ διοϊστεύσῃ πελέκεων δυοκαίδεκα πάντων, / τῷ κεν ἅμʼ ἑσποίμην, νοσφισσαμένη τόδε δῶμα / κουρίδιον, μάλα καλόν, ἐνίπλειον βιότοιο, / τοῦ ποτὲ μεμνήσεσθαι ὀΐομαι ἔν περ ὀνείρῳ. (21.74-79), I will set out the great bow of divine Odysseus; and whoever most easily stretches the bow in his hands and shoots through all twelve axes, I will follow him, leaving this house of my marriage, very beautiful, full of livelihood, of which I think I will sometimes dream, even in sleep.
Book XXI: The bow
Εὐρύμαχʼ, οὔ πως ἔστιν ἐϋκλεῖας κατὰ δῆμον / ἔμμεναι οἳ δὴ οἶκον ἀτιμάζοντες ἔδουσιν / ἀνδρὸς ἀριστῆος· τί δʼ ἐλέγχεα ταῦτα τίθεσθε; (21.331-333), Eurymachus, there is no way to have good repute among the people for those who dishonor and devour the household of a noble man; why do you make these things into disgrace?
Book XXI: The bow

In Book XXII, Penelope sleeps through the slaughter. Eurycleia wanted to wake her to tell her, and Odysseus orders that she not be roused.

In Book XXIII, the old nurse climbs up and announces that her husband is home, and Penelope does not believe it: some immortal must have killed the suitors, and Odysseus died far away. Eurycleia offers the scar as a sign, and Penelope comes down hesitating, weighing whether to question him from a distance or to kiss him, and sits before him in silence. When her son reproaches her, she answers that they have signs that only the two of them know. She orders the nurse to move the bed out of the room, and the narrator notes that she is testing him. Odysseus describes the olive tree, and she recognizes the signs, runs to embrace him, and explains her delay by her fear of being deceived, citing Helen. Her relief is compared to that of a shipwrecked man who sights land. Then they tell each other what they have suffered, and she delights in hearing the whole journey.

ἀλλά τις ἀθανάτων κτεῖνε μνηστῆρας ἀγαυούς, / ὕβριν ἀγασσάμενος θυμαλγέα καὶ κακὰ ἔργα. / οὔ τινα γὰρ τίεσκον ἐπιχθονίων ἀνθρώπων, / οὐ κακὸν οὐδὲ μὲν ἐσθλόν, ὅτις σφέας εἰσαφίκοιτο· / τῷ διʼ ἀτασθαλίας ἔπαθον κακόν· αὐτὰρ Ὀδυσσεὺς / ὤλεσε τηλοῦ νόστον Ἀχαιΐδος, ὤλετο δʼ αὐτός. (23.63-68), but some immortal has killed the proud suitors, angered at their painful outrage and wicked deeds. For they honored none of the people on earth, neither bad nor good, whoever came to them; therefore they suffered evil through their recklessness. But Odysseus lost his return to the Achaean land far away, and he himself perished.
Book XXIII: The olive-wood bed
ἡ δʼ ἄνεω δὴν ἧστο, τάφος δέ οἱ ἦτορ ἵκανεν· / ὄψει δʼ ἄλλοτε μέν μιν ἐνωπαδίως ἐσίδεσκεν, / ἄλλοτε δʼ ἀγνώσασκε κακὰ χροῒ εἵματʼ ἔχοντα. (23.93-95), she sat silent for a long time, and amazement came over her heart; sometimes she looked at him face to face, sometimes she did not recognize him, wearing wretched clothes on his body.
Book XXIII: The olive-wood bed
εἰ δʼ ἐτεὸν δὴ / ἔστʼ Ὀδυσεὺς καὶ οἶκον ἱκάνεται, ἦ μάλα νῶϊ / γνωσόμεθʼ ἀλλήλων καὶ λώϊον· ἔστι γὰρ ἡμῖν / σήμαθʼ, ἃ δὴ καὶ νῶϊ κεκρυμμένα ἴδμεν ἀπʼ ἄλλων. (23.107-110), if in truth it is Odysseus and he has come home, we two will recognize each other even better; for we have signs that we two alone know, hidden from others.
Book XXIII: The olive-wood bed
ἀλλʼ ἄγε οἱ στόρεσον πυκινὸν λέχος, Εὐρύκλεια, / ἐκτὸς ἐϋσταθέος θαλάμου, τόν ῥʼ αὐτὸς ἐποίει· / ἔνθα οἱ ἐκθεῖσαι πυκινὸν λέχος ἐμβάλετʼ εὐνήν, / κώεα καὶ χλαίνας καὶ ῥήγεα σιγαλόεντα. / ὣς ἄρʼ ἔφη πόσιος πειρωμένη· (23.177-181), come, Eurycleia, spread for him the firm bed outside the well-built bedchamber, which he himself made; there, having carried out the firm bed, lay down the bedding, fleeces and cloaks and shining coverlets. So she spoke, testing her husband.
Book XXIII: The olive-wood bed
ὣς φάτο, τῆς δʼ αὐτοῦ λύτο γούνατα καὶ φίλον ἦτορ, / σήματʼ ἀναγνούσῃ τά οἱ ἔμπεδα πέφραδʼ Ὀδυσσεύς· / δακρύσασα δʼ ἔπειτʼ ἰθὺς δράμεν, ἀμφὶ δὲ χεῖρας / δειρῇ βάλλʼ Ὀδυσῆϊ, κάρη δʼ ἔκυσʼ ἠδὲ προσηύδα· (23.205-208), so he spoke, and her knees and dear heart gave way at once, as she recognized the firm signs Odysseus had described to her; weeping, she ran straight to him, threw her arms around Odysseus's neck, kissed his head, and spoke.
Book XXIII: The olive-wood bed
οὐδέ κεν Ἀργείη Ἑλένη, Διὸς ἐκγεγαυῖα, / ἀνδρὶ παρʼ ἀλλοδαπῷ ἐμίγη φιλότητι καὶ εὐνῇ, / εἰ ᾔδη ὅ μιν αὖτις ἀρήϊοι υἷες Ἀχαιῶν / ἀξέμεναι οἶκόνδε φίλην ἐς πατρίδʼ ἔμελλον. (23.218-221), nor would Argive Helen, born of Zeus, have mingled in love and bed with a foreign man, had she known that the warlike sons of the Achaeans were going to bring her back home, to her dear fatherland.
Book XXIII: The olive-wood bed
ὡς δʼ ὅτʼ ἂν ἀσπάσιος γῆ νηχομένοισι φανήῃ, / ὧν τε Ποσειδάων εὐεργέα νῆʼ ἐνὶ πόντῳ / ῥαίσῃ, ἐπειγομένην ἀνέμῳ καὶ κύματι πηγῷ· / παῦροι δʼ ἐξέφυγον πολιῆς ἁλὸς ἤπειρόνδε / νηχόμενοι, πολλὴ δὲ περὶ χροῒ τέτροφεν ἅλμη, / ἀσπάσιοι δʼ ἐπέβαν γαίης, κακότητα φυγόντες· / ὣς ἄρα τῇ ἀσπαστὸς ἔην πόσις εἰσοροώσῃ, / δειρῆς δʼ οὔ πω πάμπαν ἀφίετο πήχεε λευκώ. (23.233-240), as when land appears welcome to swimmers whose well-built ship Poseidon breaks apart on the sea, driven by wind and heavy wave; few escape the gray sea swimming to the mainland, much salt has settled over their skin, and they step onto land gladly, having fled evil; so welcome was her husband to her as she gazed at him, and she had not yet let go of his neck with her white arms at all.
Book XXIII: The olive-wood bed

In Book XXIV, in Hades, Amphimedon tells Agamemnon about the ruse of the cloth, as seen from the side of the deceived suitors, and how Penelope neither refused nor completed the marriage. Agamemnon, listening, praises her good judgment and says that the fame of her virtue will never perish, in contrast to the daughter of Tyndareus, who will have a hateful song.

κοῦροι ἐμοὶ μνηστῆρες, ἐπεὶ θάνε δῖος Ὀδυσσεύς, / μίμνετʼ ἐπειγόμενοι τὸν ἐμὸν γάμον, εἰς ὅ κε φᾶρος / ἐκτελέσω, μή μοι μεταμώνια νήματʼ ὄληται, / Λαέρτῃ ἥρωϊ ταφήϊον (24.131-134), young men, my suitors, since godlike Odysseus is dead, wait, though you are eager for my marriage, until I finish the cloth, so that the threads are not lost in vain: a shroud for the hero Laertes.
Book XXIV: Peace in Ithaca
ὡς ἀγαθαὶ φρένες ἦσαν ἀμύμονι Πηνελοπείῃ, / κούρῃ Ἰκαρίου· ὡς εὖ μέμνητʼ Ὀδυσῆος, / ἀνδρὸς κουριδίου· τῷ οἱ κλέος οὔ ποτʼ ὀλεῖται / ἧς ἀρετῆς (24.194-197), how good was the mind of blameless Penelope, daughter of Icarius! How well she remembered Odysseus, her wedded husband! Therefore the fame of her excellence will never perish.
Book XXIV: Peace in Ithaca

Themes Embodied

Penelope embodies Loyalty and betrayal, on the side of loyalty: her waiting is an active resistance, made of delays, and the poem sets her against Clytemnestra through Agamemnon's mouth. She embodies Truth and lies, because she is as skilled at saying one thing and thinking another as her husband is, and because the conversation in Book XIX is a game in which each knows what the other does not say. She embodies Identity through recognition, and Home, exile, and return through the house she keeps. Family appears in the son who grows up and in the pressure from her father and brothers.

The olive-wood bed is not only the sign no outsider could forge, it is her image. The room was built around a trunk still rooted in the ground, and what the test demands of the impostor is exactly what she did for twenty years: stay where she was while everything around her moved. The proof is unforgeable because someone kept it whole, and so the bed proves not only that he is Odysseus, but that she was Penelope.

This changes the weight of Book XXIII compared with the other recognitions. The nurse recognizes him by the scar she saw on his body, Eumaeus and Philoetius also see it, and the son accepts the explanation of the disguise. Penelope is the only one who chooses the sign, and she chooses it so that it depends on both of them: signs only they know. Where the others identify, she recognizes. The text also supports a second reading of her delay, which the poem does not settle: the fear of being deceived by words, which she herself states, or the rags that kept her from seeing her husband in the hall.

Relationships

  • Odysseus: the husband she waits for, whom she does not recognize at first and ends up recognizing by the bed.
  • Telemachus: the son who orders her to be silent in the first book and who, in Book XXI, tells her again that the bow is men's business.
  • Antinous: the suitor who exposes the loom trick, whom she rebukes and whom she hates more than the others.
  • Eurycleia: the nurse who knows Telemachus's secret, announces the husband, and is the first not to be believed.
  • Athena: the goddess who sends her the phantom, the desire to appear, the contest of the bow, and sleep.
  • Calypso and Helen: the goddess who compares her to herself when she offers Odysseus immortality, and the woman she cites to explain her fear.
  • Laertes: the father-in-law for whom she weaves the shroud.