Mary Mann Hamilton

In her autobiography, published under the title Trials of the Earth in 2016, Mary Mann Hamilton tells in vivid prose of her life on the Mississippi Delta at the turn of the century. She lived from 1866 to 1936, but the part that interests her most is the time of her marriage to Frank Hamilton, thirty years from the time she was 18 until his death in 1914.

Frank got to know Mary’s family after her father died and was instrumental in sending her to Illinois to school. When she found out how far behind she was, however, she quit and studied dressmaking. Frank wrote to her every week. When her mother died, she promised to marry Frank, who had asked for her hand. He was 14 years older, a mysterious Englishman who had been in the army in Bengal, India, was well-educated and knew many languages. Mary could not believe he loved her, but he told her, “You have more common sense than most.” She admired him more than anyone, but felt she didn’t love him.

Mary was never happier than when cooking, and started out working at an 80-person boarding house. She quickly found that Frank had what he called rheumatism, as well as malaria, and drank to deal with it. Mary cared for him and wondered about his mysterious past. He said that he came from a good old family in England, but that he had been betrayed by someone close to him and that they were dead to him.

Frank worked hard managing lumber camps, but couldn’t seem to hold on to money. At the time, lumber was needed for railroad ties. Mary worked so hard that she lost her first baby, and her second. Frank was often gone. They moved to Arkansas and then to Missouri. Mary took time to rest, and writes of the fruitful land around her brother’s house. She wanted nothing more than a little home herself. Ozzie was born, and then Nina and Leslie, two little girls. Mary and Frank delighted in their children, but at six Ozzie was poisoned by a doctor prescribing strychnine by mistake.  The family was devastated.

Frank found that his health was better in the Mississippi Delta, on Concordia Island. A doctor had told him that if he found a climate that agreed with him, he should stay there. The family lived in a large cloth tent and Frank’s crew made barrel staves. Mary was thrilled to see Frank in good health and she also loved the country. She cooked for a smaller crew. By this time another son, Frankie, was born. In an epic storm, Frank saved his family by hollowing out a stump and making a little boat. That winter was a “fat” time, with presents, candy and good food at Christmas.

Mary decided to make every place they lived in a home for them all, as they kept moving from camp to camp. A great storyteller, Mary describes many of these places in detail, as well as what the children said and did. There was much laughter as well as tears, and she reproduces many of the things Frank tells her. Though she didn’t badger him about his past, she did learn some things. When Nina, who had hair and a face like his mother’s, died, Frank went to pieces.

Finally, Frank purchased some land and built a house on the Sunflower River. Mary laid out a big garden and they cleared the rich Delta land for crops. Mary taught her children to help with the work, that the home was theirs as much as their parents. They all loved it. Idris and Bruce were born, and finally a tiny premature baby, John Robert. “I always looked for neighbors,” said Mary. “If you have neighbors you’re never poor. I didn’t look for trouble. It came and found us anyway."

They lost that house, as an overbearing neighbor wanted their piece of land. To get the children in school they moved back to Arkansas. Frank and Mary felt the children were most important, in any case. “My children were my flower garden,” she says. “Each was a new kind, needing different care and cultivation.” They had many happy evenings in front of the fire, Frank reading and telling stories.

One winter when things were going well, Frank thought he might go to England in the spring and try to clear up his family problems. He told Mary of the church where his family had been members for 600 years, their names in the register. But an accident, and another bad decision by a doctor, rendered Frank an invalid. “How I loved him,” said Mary. “Even better than my children.” But she was losing him. Before he died he told Mary that it wouldn’t help anyone to learn who his family was and he preferred not to tell.

After his death, Mary lived with one or the other of her five living children, who were growing up. She was so proud of them. “They weren’t rich or brilliant, but, as Frank taught them, they were straight and honest. They had been fitted by their father’s proud blood, his ideals and the training he gave them to a life far different from the one that poverty and helplessness made the only way after he was gone.”

Mary’s life of trouble and pain, hard work, laughter, love and courage is a riveting story. Her love for her mysterious husband and her children form the backdrop of the book. I can only point to the pleasure of reading it. Indeed, she does have more common sense than most, and she shares it freely.

Penelope

John William Waterhouse, Penelope and the Suitors

Penelope was a central character in the Homeric epic The Odyssey, among the orally transmitted poems finally written down in the late 8^th and early 7^th centuries BC. These poems may have had some historical background in the sieges and wars between the Greek city states which occurred four to five centuries earlier. They are stuffed with gods and goddesses who interact with humans, causing much trouble and saving whom they will.

Penelope is the daughter of Icarius, a Spartan prince famed as a champion runner. He proclaims that the man who wants to win his daughter must beat him at a race. Odysseus does this. When he is about to take Penelope home to his island of Ithaca, her father gives her the choice whether to go with Odysseus or stay home. Penelope simply puts her veil modestly in front of her face, which her father interprets as a wish to go with Odysseus.

In The Illiad, which begins in the middle of the ten-year long Trojan War, we do not hear anything about Penelope. Odysseus is gone all that time, though he and Penelope have had a son, Telemachus. Odysseus’ attempts to get home after the war are thwarted by the gods and it takes him another ten years. During that time, Penelope spends most of her time weaving in an upper room in her home with her women around her. She longs for her husband, as he longs for her.

When it begins to appear that Odysseus will not come home, a pack of young men begin to hang around, intent on becoming Penelope’s second husband. Telemachus, her son, is too young to prevent them from feasting every day at the house, eating up the cattle, sheep and pigs that are his patrimony. Penelope, who is as cunning as her husband, tells the suitors that when she finishes the shroud she is making for her father-in-law Laertes, she will marry one of them. Every day she weaves, but at night she undoes what she has woven that day. For three years this ruse works, but one of her handmaids tells the suitors what Penelope is doing.

When the household poet sings of Odysseus’ exploits, Penelope says “Sing no more this bitter tale that wears my heart out.” Telemachus rebukes her and then leaves, to try to find news of his father. Penelope is horrified to find he is gone. The suitors plan to kill him, but Athena sends her a message that all will be well.

At this point Odysseus is still constrained by Calypso to stay with her on her island. He longs for “his quiet Penelope” and home. Athena intervenes and Odysseus has more adventures, but is at last given gifts and a ship to take him to Ithaca. Arriving, he visits first his faithful swineherd, dressed as a beggar. Telemachus also comes back to the island and meets his father there. Together they make plans to kill the suitors and retake their home.

Telemachus goes home first, though Odysseus will not allow him to tell Penelope that he is on the island. “What shall I do?” she asks Telemachus. Inspirited, Telemachus tells her to remain with her women in the upper room. The suitors continue to eat, drink and plot. When Odysseus, dressed as a beggar, comes and sits in the door stoop, they make fun of him and throw things at him. Telemachus tells them not to ill-use his guest.

Athena sends Penelope down in her great beauty, “her shining veil across her cheek.” “Deep-minded queen,” says one of the suitors, “Beauty like yours no woman had before.” At last she brings Odysseus’ heavy bow into the room and says that whoever can string it and send an arrow through 12 axe handles will be her husband. None of the suitors is able to string the bow. Telemachus makes some effort, but then sends his mother upstairs. Odysseus easily strings the bow, then strikes Antinous, the chief suitor with an arrow to his neck. With the help of his son, the swineherd and another herdsman, not to mention Athena, Odysseus slays all of the forty or more suitors. The servants come up to embrace Odysseus and the mutinous maids are made to clean up the mess.

Telemachus tells Penelope that his father has come home, but Penelope is skeptical. She sits on one side of the room, observing her husband, who has bathed and dressed himself, on the other. Odysseus’ old nurse has identified him by a childhood scar. “Let your mother test me,” said Odysseus. “We have secret signs between us.”

Penelope tells a servant to go and take their marriage bed into the hall, making it up for Odysseus. At this Odysseus flares up. “Who dares to move my bed?” he asks. “I made that bed from the trunk of a living olive tree.” When she hears this, Penelope runs to Odysseus and throws her arms around him. At last they weep together, rejoicing. When they go to bed, arms around each other, Odysseus tells her stories. “She could not close her eyes until all the stories had been told.”

The next day, Odysseus goes to his old father Laertes, also wasted with longing for his son. Laertes is spading earth around his fruit trees. Odysseus worries about the fathers of the suitors, who might come for revenge. Athena goes to Zeus, asking how to end this violence. “Conclude it as you will,” says Zeus. Thus, Athena compels the islanders to drop their quarrel and Odysseus, Penelope and Telemachus are allowed to live in peace.

The Odyssey has followed me around most of my life. When I finally read it in the Robert Fitzgerald translation recently, hardly any of the incidents were unfamiliar. Indeed, the story of the weaving and unweaving of the shroud is told three times! As the wife of a valiant husband who is gone at least a third of the time, I most identify with the homecoming. When Don comes home, it takes days sometimes before all the stories have been told.