8.83-120

ὣς φάτο, τῷ δ᾽ ἄρα πατρὸς ὑφ᾽ ἵμερον ὦρσε γόοιο.
δάκρυ δ᾽ ἀπὸ βλεφάρων χαμάδις βάλε πατρὸς ἀκούσας,
χλαῖναν πορφυρέην ἄντ᾽ ὀφθαλμοῖιν ἀνασχὼν
ἀμφοτέρῃσιν χερσί.

So [Menelaus] spoke, and in [Telemachus] the longing for his father brought tears.
Hearing his father’s name, he let tears fall from his eyes to the ground,
holding a purple cloak in front of his eyes
with both hands.

Odyssey 4.113–16

Familiarity with Homer’s style prompts us to think further about similarities between the two scenes. Hearing about heroes from the Trojan War brings an emotional response from both men, but the parallels extend further. Seeing his guest’s reaction, Menelaus guesses who Telemachus is, though it falls to Helen to name him (4.140–46). Alkinous is also sensitive to his visitor’s reaction:

Ἀλκίνοος δέ μιν οἶος ἐπεφράσατ᾽ ἠδ᾽ ἐνόησεν
ἥμενος ἄγχ᾽ αὐτοῦ, βαρὺ δὲ στενάχοντος ἄκουσεν.

Only Alkinous understood what he did and noticed,
sitting next to him and hearing him groan deeply.

Odyssey 8.94–95

Later in the same scene, hearing a song about the ruse of the Trojan Horse will again lead to Odysseus weeping into his cloak, with the exact same language describing Alkinous’s response (533–34). But there the sequence will end with the naming of Odysseus.

The link between weeping and recognition that we see here and earlier in Menelaus’s palace will come into play three more times in the poem, all in crucial situations. When the beggar meets with Penelope alone in Book 19, hearing his false story about meeting Odysseus on Crete causes her to weep, which Homer describes in one of his most beautiful similes:

ὡς δὲ χιὼν κατατήκετ᾽ ἐν ἀκροπόλοισιν ὄρεσσιν,
ἥν τ᾽ Εὖρος κατέτηξεν, ἐπὴν Ζέφυρος καταχεύῃ:
τηκομένης δ᾽ ἄρα τῆς ποταμοὶ πλήθουσι ῥέοντες:
ὣς τῆς τήκετο καλὰ παρήϊα δάκρυ χεούσης,
κλαιούσης ἑὸν ἄνδρα παρήμενον.

As when snows melts on the peaks of the mountains,
snow that the West wind piles up and the East wind thaws,
and the rivers overflow with its melting,
so her lovely cheeks were softened with the running tears,
as she wept for her husband, who was sitting beside her.

Odyssey 19.205–9

Earlier in their meeting, Penelope asks the beggar point blank who he is, and he declines to answer, saying that to speak of such things is too painful for him (104–22). Now, once recovered from her weeping, she presses again:

νῦν μὲν δή σευ, ξεῖνέ γ᾽, ὀΐω πειρήσεσθαι,
εἰ ἐτεὸν δὴ κεῖθι σὺν ἀντιθέοις ἑτάροισι
ξείνισας ἐν μεγάροισιν ἐμὸν πόσιν, ὡς ἀγορεύεις.
εἰπέ μοι ὁπποῖ᾽ ἄσσα περὶ χροῒ εἵματα ἕστο,
αὐτός θ᾽ οἷος ἔην, καὶ ἑταίρους, οἵ οἱ ἕποντο.

Now, stranger, I think I will test you,
to see if you truly entertained my husband
there in the halls with your godlike companions, as you say.
Tell me what kind of clothing he wore on his body,
and what kind of man he was, and those who followed him.

Odyssey 19.215–19

Odysseus knows the right answers, of course, as he does earlier on Scheria when Arete asks him the same question (7.233–39), but again he avoids revealing his identity.

The poet continues to feed the energy building around the issue of the beggar’s identity in a lengthy digression about how Odysseus got his name and the origin of a scar on his leg (19.386–466). Then Odysseus chooses the old maid Eurykleia to wash his feet and when she sees the scar, she knows:

τὴν γρηῢς χείρεσσι καταπρηνέσσι λαβοῦσα
γνῶ ῥ᾽ ἐπιμασσαμένη, πόδα δὲ προέηκε φέρεσθαι:
ἐν δὲ λέβητι πέσε κνήμη, κανάχησε δὲ χαλκός,
ἂψ δ᾽ ἑτέρωσ᾽ ἐκλίθη: τὸ δ᾽ ἐπὶ χθονὸς ἐξέχυθ᾽ ὕδωρ.
τὴν δ᾽ ἅμα χάρμα καὶ ἄλγος ἕλε φρένα, τὼ δέ οἱ ὄσσε
δακρυόφι πλῆσθεν, θαλερὴ δέ οἱ ἔσχετο φωνή.
ἁψαμένη δὲ γενείου Ὀδυσσῆα προσέειπεν:
“ἦ μάλ᾽ Ὀδυσσεύς ἐσσι, φίλον τέκος: οὐδέ σ᾽ ἐγώ γε
πρὶν ἔγνων, πρὶν πάντα ἄνακτ᾽ ἐμὸν ἀμφαφάασθαι.”

The old woman, taking his leg in the palms of her hands,
knew the scar as she handled it and let the foot drop.
His shin fell in the basin, and the bronze rang out.
The basin tilted to one side and the water ran out on the ground.
Joy and pain seized her mind at once, and her eyes
filled with tears, and her swelling voice was held back.
Grasping Odysseus by the chin, she spoke:
“You are Odysseus, then, dear child. I did not
know you before, until I touched you all over.”

Odyssey 19.467–75

This should be the dramatic moment when Penelope finally recognizes Odysseus, but Athena is not ready for the beggar to be revealed and prevents the queen from seeing the exchange. Odysseus threatens the nurse with death if she reveals his secret, and the disguise holds for a little longer.

The conjunction of weeping and recognition appears once more in the poem, when Penelope finally acknowledges Odysseus as her husband, after tricking him with her ruse about moving the marriage bed (23.177–204). Now the moment of revelation, which the poet has been building toward since Odysseus arrived on Ithaka, finally comes:

ὣς φάτο, τῆς δ᾽ αὐτοῦ λύτο γούνατα καὶ φίλον ἦτορ,
σήματ᾽ ἀναγνούσῃ τά οἱ ἔμπεδα πέφραδ᾽ Ὀδυσσεύς:
δακρύσασα δ᾽ ἔπειτ᾽ ἰθὺς δράμεν, ἀμφὶ δὲ χεῖρας
δειρῇ βάλλ᾽ Ὀδυσῆϊ, κάρη δ᾽ ἔκυσ᾽ ἠδὲ προσηύδα:

So [Odysseus] spoke and her knees and inward heart went slack,
as she recognized the clear proofs that Odysseus had given her.
Bursting into tears, she ran right up and threw her arms
around Odysseus, kissing his head and speaking to him:

Odyssey 23.205–8

In three of these passages, at Sparta, after Demodocus’ second song, and after the slaughter in Ithaka, weeping leads directly to the revelation of the hero’s identity. In the other three, after Demodocus’ first song, during the beggar’s interview with Penelope, and the near miss when Eurykleia sees the scar, the poet draws on what appears to be a traditional association in his art language to tease, leading us right up to the moment when we’re expecting to hear Odysseus’ name, then making us wait.

In this series of scenes, spanning the poem from beginning to end, we see the power of Homer’s mastery of repeated narrative structures. Each time the story cycles through the passage of Odysseus from anonymous stranger to glorious hero, the poet builds excitement by feeding our expectations, signaling the fulfillment of a traditional narrative pattern, and then holding back. When Penelope finally gives in and acknowledges Odysseus as her husband, the moment is freighted with all the energy from the previous cycles, a crescendo bearing the impress of the poet’s extraordinary art.

Further Reading

Fenik, B. 1974. Studies in the Odyssey, 5–60. Hermes Einzelschriften 30. Wiesbaden: F. Steiner.

Murnaghan, S. 1987. Disguise and Recognition in the Odyssey, 3–9. Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Van Nortwick, T. 2008. The Unknown Odysseus: Alternate Worlds in Homer’s Odyssey, 45–50. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press.