It’s a good thing Odysseus went literally everywhere before going home, because “everywhere” includes the underworld. Only there could he find out that Agamemnon, his leader and king in the Trojan War, had been dead for a decade, murdered immediately upon his return to Mycenae by his vengeful wife Clytemnestra and her new lover.
Granted, Agamemnon did sacrifice their daughter Iphigenia to the gods without telling her. But the lesson from ghost-Agamemnon to Odysseus stands: “Don’t just waltz back into Ithaca pretending everything is fine.” Thankfully, Odysseus manages to remember this lesson seven to eight years later, when, after a “brief” stint on Calypso’s island, he finally makes it back home.
In Homer’s poem, the goddess Athena disguises Odysseus as an old beggar upon his return. In Christopher Nolan’s film adaptation, all Odysseus needs to do to appear so is wear a ragged coat. Presumably, 20 years of war, voyage, and constant shipwreck have done the rest. Regardless, the camouflage allows him to scope out his home before officially returning to it.
First, Odysseus checks on Eumaeus, his loyal swineherd from years past. Eumaeus treats “the beggar” kindly, as is the rule per Zeus’s law, and Odysseus knows he may have at least one friend left on his island. The second person he encounters is Telemachus, his now-grown son whom he left as a baby. As hard as it must be to not reveal himself, in Telemachus, Odysseus finds the perfect man to help him fully assess the situation.
Our hero pretends to be an old soldier who “fought under your father at Troy,” which allows him to reveal enough information without unmasking himself. After he claims to be a scout sent ahead by Odysseus, Telemachus happily provides all the intel Odysseus needs: Some of the servants at the palace are still loyal to him, and so is his wife Penelope, yet the place is swarming with sinister suitors, all vying for the lady’s attention, all licking their lips in hopes of soon being king themselves.
Clearly, more reconnaissance is needed. Thankfully, Telemachus has just returned from Sparta, his ship loaded with gifts. So what better way to assess everyone at once than to call a big banquet and invite them all? “Never a problem,” Telemachus confirms. “What will you do at the banquet?” “Beg,” the disguised Odysseus says. “The clearest view of a man is from below.”
No sooner said than done, Odysseus quickly learns just how low everyone perceives him to be. At the feast, the suitors are on their worst behavior despite having been entertained by Penelope for years. Not only do they mistreat Eumaeus and Odysseus’ loyal dog Argos, they also mock the newcomer, refuse to give him food, even spit in his bowl. Antinous, chief conspirator and nastiest leech of them all, even throws a chair at him and kicks him once he’s on the ground.
Finally, Odysseus knows all he needs to know: This environment is hostile, and for him to reclaim his throne and wife, all the enemies must die. We can guess what happens next.
It’s a good reminder, this memorable line from the movie. “Xenia,” the Greeks called their obligation to hospitality, and it went both ways: Hosts must be good hosts. Provide food, shelter, and not ask too many questions too early. But guests must also be good guests. Be courteous, respectful, and don’t become a burden. Provide what useful news they can and, most importantly, return the favor in the future.
The philosophy lasted for centuries because it came with a simple argument: You never know who’s a god or goddess in disguise. It was Odysseus’s biggest fear and saddest conviction that, with the advent of the Trojan war—which he had a major hand in—Zeus’s law was broken, and the world would fall into chaos from there. Looking at the Middle Ages that followed, he was not wrong.
Even if it’s not a goddess who disguises you, it’s still a neat trick: If you want to judge the character of others, be someone who can do nothing for them, and see how they treat you—to paraphrase Malcolm Forbes. But of course, the reverse also applies: Don’t look down upon others just because you can. You never know what power is hiding beneath a humdrum appearance. Like another bearded traveler once said: “If you want to know what a man’s like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals.” And we do. Take a good look, that is.
The clearest view of a person is from below. Shine kindly from all angles.
