A Guide to the Odyssey: A Commentary on the English Translation of Robert Fitzgerald (16 page)

395
Although the terms are applied loosely and with great variation, “Hellas” and “Argos” seem generally to refer to mainland Greece and the Peloponnese, respectively.

402–3
Given the traditional nature of oral epic, the idea that “people applaud and prefer the latest song which comes to listeners’ ears” is a notable literary judgment. The fact that the words for both “applaud” [351] and “comes to” or “is about” [352] are
hapax legomena
, in other words, terms not used anywhere else in the two Homeric epics, may suggest that these words are more recent additions to the poet’s word-hoard imported to express an idea that is itself new. (This is a complex argument; other
hapax legomena
may be relics of extreme antiquity.) It is tempting to
claim that this idea represents “Homer’s view,” but, before succumbing to the temptation, we should remember that Telémakhos is speaking. It is just as likely that Homer is using this “radical” aesthetic pronouncement to characterize the new Telémakhos. Depending on one’s musical preferences, one might compare Wagner’s Walther von Stolzing or a fan of the latest style of rock music.

404–7
Telémakhos does not say what he hopes, and has new reason to hope—that Odysseus is alive and will yet return—but rather takes the most pessimistic line possible. Again, these are elements of a characteristic pose calculated to protect oneself from further disappointment and therefore shame in others’ eyes, but we must also remember that the suitors are listening, and there is every reason to keep them lulled in complacency.

407ff
. Fitzgerald, following some ancient editions and scholars both ancient and modern (again as he notes on his p. 463), omits four lines [356–59] which appear, also in Telémakhos’ mouth, in
Book XXI
and are translated by Fitzgerald there (XXI.394–97). It certainly seems to us that they would be unnecessarily rude here. Nevertheless, these commanding lines would provide more reason for Penélopê’s “wonder” (408) and would certainly register Telémakhos’ new resolve and sense of self-worth. However rude for him to speak this way to his mother, it is also observably true (although I do not offer this as a compelling argument for the authenticity of these lines here, in
Book I
) that teenagers often assert their independence vis-à-vis their (loving) parents before they feel capable of asserting it to the rest of the world; indeed, the first is often exaggerated and is often preparation for the other.

411–13
then she fell to weeping
…: Penélopê’s grief and longing for her husband are exemplary. It would be an error to infer from these lines that Penélopê is ever the passive victim, although Homer clearly does not mind if we think so at first. He will show her to be active and resourceful, capable of outwitting
even Odysseus. The time for her active participation in the plot has not yet come, and Athena at least releases her from waking pain.

417ff
.
You suitors…. Insolent men
…: Telémakhos wastes no time laying down the new law for the suitors and is unwisely direct in his threats (esp. 429–30). This is rash and has no effect other than to focus their hatred directly on him.

432
The suitors, too, are surprised at the new Telémakhos.

439
Antínoös:
Although the suitors are presented—and ultimately punished—as a group, Homer also characterizes a number of individuals, just as both the Greek and the Trojan fighting forces in
The Iliad
are at once groups and subgroups and very different individuals. Antínoös is, characteristically, first to respond; as his name suggests (
anti + noos
, “mind set against” or “opposing mind,” highlighted by Homer with
antion
[388], and
Annuo’
[389]), he is the most difficult and brazen of the suitors. The patronymic (name in the form “son of x”) is traditional as an identifier; the virtually automatic formula, insisting as it does on the proper organization of family and society by generation, here reminds us just how badly out of whack things are in Ithaka. (Telémakhos might have observed, with Hamlet, that things are rotten in the state of Ithaka; there are many points of comparison and contrast between the two young heroes and the situations in which they find themselves.)

447
Telémakhos has obvious reasons here to make the point that since no one has certain proof of Odysseus’ death, as far as questions of succession are concerned, he must be regarded as still alive.

448
I rule:
Telémakhos demands to be lord and master in and of his house, using a particularly important title in Greek, (
w)anax
[397].
(W)anax
is the highest term for lord or master, applied to both gods (especially Zeus) and men (for example, Agamémnon, leader of all Greek forces in
The Iliad
). The Kyklops Polyphêmos,
too, considers himself “lord and master” of his flocks (see “Master,” IX.494). On the feminine form, see VI. 161, below. The “(w)” stands for the so-called digamma, not represented by any written character in the historic texts of Homer. Whether and when it was actually written, and how late its “w”-like sound was pronounced in the epic tradition, remain uncertain, but its former presence and ongoing force can be inferred from the way certain words behave within the system of Homeric metrics. Indeed, the digamma, whose importance for Homeric verse was first discovered by the English philologist Richard Bentley in 1713, is one of the unmistakable signs of the antiquity of Homeric formulae and the tradition in which Homer’s poems participate.

456ff
. Although his greeting words are more conciliatory, Eurýmakhos here reveals that he is eager to know if Telémakhos’ guest had some news of Odysseus.

465ff
. If there had been any doubts before, it is now clear that Telémakhos, like every other character in
The Odyssey
, carefully crafts his words with regard only to his potential advantage over or disadvantage at the hands of his interlocutor. “Truth” is too risky.

472
So said Telémakhos, though in his heart:
The narrator wants to make certain we understand that Telémakhos has been dissembling. In fact, the Greek makes it clear that Telémakhos knows not just that the visitor was immortal but specifically that she was a goddess [
athanatên
, 420].

482
Eurýkleia:
The dearest and most trustworthy of the household servants: indeed, having been purchased by Odysseus’ father, Laërtês, to serve as a concubine, she was a member of the family. Until recently, one did not need to preface “family” with the adjective “extended;” by the standards of the time, all families were extended.

486
twenty oxen:
Expensive. In comparison, as West has noted (HWH I.126 [on I.431]), “a skilled woman slave is valued at 4
oxen” (
Iliad
XXIII.705); “a male prisoner [is] worth 100 oxen” (
Iliad
XXI.79), as is a “set of golden armor” (
Iliad
VI.236); “and a cauldron one ox” (
Iliad
XXIII.885).

488
for the sake of peace
may be opaque to some readers. A more literal rendering, Homer’s “avoided the wrath of his wife” [433], is unambiguous. Such concubinage was not unusual: most of the Greek victors either took or were allotted a Trojan concubine (Agamémnon’s Kassandra is the most famous; see Nestor’s report at III. 167). Odysseus was the conspicuous exception. In another ancient Near Eastern tradition, the Biblical patriarchs Abraham and Isaac had concubines or co-wives. Note also the similarity between the names of Odysseus’ mother (Antikleía) and his nurse (Eurýkleia). That Eurýkleia’s lineage is detailed (483) indicates that she came from a good family in her homeland. For another example of the fate of enslavement, which could befall just about anyone, compare Eumaios (esp. XV.490–585). The two figures are in many ways parallel.

491ff
.
So now she held the light
…: The first book has a quiet, restful close. Telémakhos returns to the comfort and safety of his bedroom, with its touches of elegance and luxury. He is loved and cared for in small things by Eurýkleia, as he is—in great things—by the ever-present Athena, whose name forms the last word of the book [444].

The book divisions are later (post-fifth-century; see Hainsworth in HWH 1.315 [on VI.328–31]), but in many instances they may reflect performance tradition of episodization. Russo notes that “thirteen of the twenty-four books of
The Odyssey
conclude with the actors going to bed” (HWH 3.73 [on XVIII.428]) or with some reference to night or approaching dawn, a further indication that the bookends, however much they belong to a textualized
Odyssey
, indeed reflect performance practice.

2–5
As day follows night, so dressing follows undressing, although now with a difference: whereas Eurýkleia had assisted him as he doffed his tunic, here Telémakhos, alone, puts on traveling clothes and, significantly, arms himself.

7ff
.
He found the criers with clarion voices
…: As advised and promised, Telémakhos summons the assembly. We note that the Homeric aesthetic in no way seeks to avoid repetition. Doing, even saying exactly what a character or the poet said would be done or said was obviously not regarded as a blemish; rather, it lent unity and architectonic grandeur, even a sort of inevitability, to the poet’s song, which extended over hours or, in some cases, days.

12
sunlit:
Literally, “divinely uttered” [12], frequently used simply to mean “divine.”

16–25
Reference to a character’s ancestry and in particular his father (often through the patronymic) is common; less common is what we have here, the identification of an older man in terms
of his children. Narrative (1) and thematic (2) considerations are paramount. (1) Notably, the story of one of Aigýptios’ sons, Ántiphos, turns the excursus into a little window on a dramatic scene in
Book IX
. Suspense in traditional tales lies less in the what than in the how, and this foretaste of the horrors to come (in the narrative) is obviously to Homer’s taste. (The Alexandrian critic Aristarchus regarded the verses that referred to the events in Polyphêmos’, the Kyklops, cave as spurious; even after 2000 years, Aristarchus remains among the most important Homeric scholars, and he is always worth attending to; however, we must remember that he approached the poem with standards and an aesthetic characteristic of the highly literate Hellenistic age, at a remove of nearly 500 years from the time of Homer himself.) The careful listener to Homer’s song, even as he or she registers the pathos of Ántiphos being Polyphêmos’ last victim, must recall that Aigýptios himself cannot be aware of any element of his son’s fate (24–25). While the narrative is focused on Telémakhos’ concern for his father, in Aigýptios we have a figure of the absent Odysseus, equally ignorant of the well-being of his son.

(2) Aigýptios’ sons are, of course, fully grown and accomplished in their own rights, and in him we have an opportunity to look up the ladder, as it were, from the young to the old.
The Odyssey
transmitted to us ends with the return of Odysseus to his aged father, Laërtês. For Odysseus himself, the suitors rather than Telémakhos represent the inevitable challenge every younger generation poses to its immediate predecessor. The question is not whether the younger will replace the older, the question is when and how. Odysseus’ answer to the first question will be: not yet.

27–28
No meeting
…: In other words, no such public assembly has been held in nearly twenty years.

31
Has he had word our fighters are returning:
This is a further reminder that it is not just Odysseus’ family who are
longing for the return of one man but a whole community that has had no word of its fighting men in something like ten years.

34–35
The man has vigor … more power to him:
Only barely beneath the surface is Aigýptios’ frustration at the situation in Ithaka: it is time for someone to take charge.

40
the staff:
In Greek
skêptron
[37], for us, “scepter,” symbolized the right to speak in assembly and, in other contexts, authority itself, traditionally of kings or their representatives.