A Guide to the Odyssey: A Commentary on the English Translation of Robert Fitzgerald (17 page)

54
sons of the best men here among them:
Telémakhos does not shrink from addressing a very touchy problem: any rebuff (not to mention punishment) of the suitors will offend many of the more prominent Ithakan families. Although the suitors themselves are present, Telémakhos consistently speaks as if he is addressing their fathers, who should curb the bad behavior of their sons (here and 78–85). Telémakhos, though aware of political ramifications, here and elsewhere attempts to keep discussion at the level of an outrage to his family. At this point, he speaks as if the suitors were all Ithakans. In fact, from XVI.290ff., it will emerge that the vast majority of the suitors are not from Ithaka, and his inability to exercise any control over the foreigners underlies a distinction he makes in 80–84. However, the leaders and major troublemakers among the suitors are Ithakans, and, on the whole, the issue is presented as an Ithakan problem throughout the poem.

56
across the sea:
The Odyssey
is itself quite vague about the exact location of the home of Ikários, Penélopê’s father. Tradition of uncertain antiquity (it may well be post-Homeric) puts him on the Greek mainland at Sparta or Acarnania.

60
beeves:
Cattle.

68–75
Telémakhos, mounting the only argument he can, appeals to his fellow Ithakans’ sense of shame vis-à-vis outsiders and a still higher court of justice, the gods, who may yet punish those responsible for wrongdoing.

73
holy Justice:
In Greek, this concept is conveyed by a second epithet applied to Zeus [
themistos
, 68], based on
themis
, “justice” or “lawfulness.” The central terms of any culture’s moral and ethical system are notoriously difficult to translate into those of another language.

80–84
If it were only Ithakans who had taken or were consuming his property, Telémakhos would have more opportunity for redress than he does now, when so many of the suitors are from elsewhere. See 54, above. Still, he blames the entire Ithakan community for permitting this outrage against one of their number to go on.

87
his eyes grown bright with tears:
Tears welling in the eyes, even weeping, would not have been a sign of weakness or an occasion for shame but rather a sign of passion and sincerity.

90
Again, Antínoös speaks first.

95ff
.
it is your own dear, incomparably cunning mother:
Although it is from Antínoös’ perspective, we now catch a glimpse of the cunning Penélopê (see also 124–30).

100ff
. The story of the shroud for Laërtês is told by Antínoös here, by Penélopê at XIX. 163ff., and by the ghost of one of the suitors (Amphímedon) at XXIV. 145ff. The variations among the three accounts are minor, and there seems to be no adequate reason to get overly exercised over what some scholars consider a discrepancy in the length of time that elapses between the suitors’ discovery of the ruse and Penélopê’s completion of the shroud.

In all three accounts, Penélopê works on the shroud for nearly four years before a traitorous maid betrays the secret. The suitors have been importuning her for more or less the same amount of time (II.96), suggesting that she must have begun work on the shroud soon after their arrival. The difference is this: Antínoös and Penélopê both give the impression that the trick has been exposed for some time and that she is now holding out longer than expected (obviously, this has a different meaning for Penélope than it does for Antínoös and the suitors). In contrast, Amphímedon
gives the impression that Odysseus returns immediately after Penélopê has been found out and the suitors increase their pressure to force her decision. This suits his narrative perspective (as the ghost of a dead suitor attempting to explain their defeat), just as an emphasis on the length of time since the foiling of Penélopê’s last plan to avoid choosing a suitor is appropriate for the very different perspectives of Antínoös and Penélopê, respectively.

101
great loom:
With this great loom (also 112) one stood as one wove. The size of the loom is essential to her argument: it could not be moved to the home of a new husband.

104
Penélopê is presented as speaking to the suitors as if she is certain Odysseus is dead, as Telémakhos has, for his own reasons, done several times.

111
We have men’s hearts:
Less in the sense that “we are human and therefore sympathetic,” than that “we are men and therefore likely to be outwitted by women.”

116
one of her maids:
She is a traitor to her mistress and the household, although the suitors will regard her only as one who levels the field, so to speak, undoing Penélopê’s own ruse (see XIX. 163–82, below). As will emerge clearly later, many of the maids have liaisons with the suitors. Their punishment is among the most gruesome of
The Odyssey
. The poem insists on the justice of Odysseus’ revenge; thus, it is important that their guilt be emphasized as often as possible, so listeners will be inclined to take the part of the house of Odysseus and Penélopê rather than of the suitors, even when the information is presented out of a suitor’s mouth.

128
Mykênê with her coronet:
Of Mykênê we know only her name and a few family connections; there is no extant legend in which her cunning plays a particular role. Of Alkmêne and Tyro we know more; they both appear in
Book XI
(304–7 and 268–95, respectively). Again, neither is a watchword for cunning, unless Antínoös means to suggest that any woman who can have a child
by a lover (even divine) and get away with it is obviously cunning. This would be a particularly ironic reading of the story of Alkmênê, who was duped by Zeus’ cunning, but it is a revisionary interpretation worthy of Antínoös. Perhaps all three simply belong to a short list of famous women of old.

131–34
Antínoös lays the blame for the very wasting of Telémakhos’ property at Penélopê’s feet, although he assumes the gods are responsible for her thinking and acting as she does.

137–46
Telémakhos argues that he could never send his mother back to her father for remarriage; of course, this is precisely the course of action which Athena/Mentês advised (under certain circumstances) and which Telémakhos found agreeable in
Book I
(if the lines are not spurious, see I.323, above).

155ff
.
Now Zeus … / launching a pair of eagles:
The sending of an omen by a god in epic permits the poet to exploit the disparity of perspectives: between, on the one hand, the god, the poet, and the audience, who share knowledge of the intentions of the gods within the epic in sending the omen; and, on the other, the human actors in the epic, who struggle to interpret the omen, each as his or her heart dictates. In some ways, then, an omen is a model of a poetic text: both must be interpreted at varying removes from the intention of the god/poet. The different interpretations of Halithérsês (170–86) and Pólybos (188–217) efficiently demonstrate this. Halithérsês is basically right, although parts of his forecast (esp. 183–86) seem to exceed the data of this omen. Pólybos accuses him of overreading (esp. 191–92). From our superior perspective as second-time readers, we may take the fact that there are two eagles to portend that Odysseus and Telémakhos together will punish the suitors.

162
tearing cheeks and throats:
It remains open to question whose cheeks and throats the eagles claw: some of the Ithakans’, their own (to symbolize grief?), or (least likely) each other’s. Often in parallel scenes the birds swoop down on a victim of the sort they might seize in the normal course of hunting.

179–86
I am old enough to know a sign when I see one …:
Mastor concludes his prophecy with words intended to inspire confidence in his veracity. He may be an experienced prophet, and, from the privileged position of second-time readers of
The Odyssey
(ancient audiences who had known the story all their lives would have been in the same position), we know he is correct. However, there is no getting around the fact that his arguments here are circular: he adduces as support the occurrence of what he predicts will happen. It will happen, yes, but it hasn’t yet. In the Greek the illogic of his argument emerges a bit more boldly: he says not “I see this all fulfilled” (186) but “all will now be fulfilled.” Later theoreticians, for example, Aristotle, distinguished between the strictly logical argument (syllogism) and the “persuasive augmentation” (enthymeme) of orators. (See also XV.26–36, below.) While the great period of Greek public speaking and the development of conscious rhetorical technique came later, in Athens in the fifth and fourth centuries
B.C.E
., these very speakers and theorists recognized that Homer’s characters exemplified all the basic principles of good rhetoric. Mastor is a minor example; Odysseus is of course the master rhetor.

188–89
Old man
…: In Greek, Eurýmakhos’ words are a slightly less veiled threat that Mastor’s children may suffer violence, perhaps (here is the threat) because of Mastor’s prediction.

197
Here is what I foretell:
Eurýmakhos mocks Mastor’s illogically confident prediction of Odysseus’ return, saying roughly, “I’ll tell you what will come about,” implying “because we suitors will take events into our own hands.” The greatness of this minor interchange is that, for all its faulty logic, Mastor’s faith in the gods and justice overtrumps the impious cynicism and hybris of Eurýmakhos and the suitors.

222ff
.
But give me a fast ship
…: Telémakhos must ask for a ship, because the fleet is not the property of the king or his house. Moreover, Telémakhos wants this to be an expedition for the
common weal. Twenty is the standard complement of men accompanying someone on a peacetime mission.

236
Mentor:
The eponymous sage adviser. See Introduction, p. xxiii.

241–43
Let no man holding scepter as a king:
He is openly sarcastic.

245
like a gentle father:
Mentor’s simile makes explicit the correspondence between Telémakhos’ need to find Odysseus and that of the entire populace.

251–53
What sickens me
…: Mentor indirectly urges the assembly to punish the suitors here and now, as Leókritos (255fT.) understands.

257–62
Suppose Odysseus himself
…: Leókritos indeed sees the reality which will face Odysseus and Telémakhos in the second half of the epic: just by landing in Ithaka, Odysseus is far from solving the problems. Indeed, the risks will become greater.

267–69
Whatever Leókritos’ purpose in concluding his speech with these derogatory words, they serve to mollify the suitors (Telémakhos won’t get anywhere), to spur Telémakhos to action (I’ll prove him wrong), and to motivate the rest of the book (Athena disguised as Mentor [282ff.] sees to it Telémakhos sails).

273ff
. The young hero goes alone to the seashore. It is perhaps a vocational hazard of commentators on
The Odyssey
always to see
The Iliad
behind their object of primary attention. Homer’s original audience would have known a much wider and more varied repertoire and would not always have thought of the one with respect to the other. Nonetheless, there seems to be a special relationship between the two great epics that have come down to us (see Introduction, pp. xlii-xliii and n. 12). Here, certainly, it is impossible not to recall Khrysês invoking Apollo by the sea (
Iliad
I.34ff.) and, even more significant, Akhilleus by the sea (
Iliad
I.348ff.). There, it is the appropriate place for him to call on his sea-goddess mother, Thetis. Here, the sea is less obviously a place to invoke Athena; nevertheless, it is the sea which separates
Telémakhos from his proximate goals of Pylos and Sparta, and, more important, separates him from his father.

275
then said this prayer:
Fitzgerald removes a distracting reference to Athena as the object of the prayer. Knowledge of the goddess’ identity is attributed to the narrator, not to Telémakhos. Still, it is a distraction, for readers at least; one suspects that listeners would be less bothered by this. (See 313–14, where Homer says Athena but Telémakhos seems to react as if only Mentor had been his interlocutor.)

290f
. Athena in Mentor’s guise here picks up a concern Telémakhos had voiced when speaking to her in her disguise as Mentes (I.258–60) and which she had begun to address there (I.266–68).

292
Although alliteration is not eschewed by Homer, Stanford (I.244 [on II.276]) seems correct in noting that the heavy alliteration in the Greek here [four of the seven words of line 276 begin with “p”] suggests a proverbial ring to the sentiment. Many poets may feel it applies all too well to their standing vis-à-vis our poetic “father,” Homer. For all we know, “Homer” may well have felt inferior to one or more of his predecessors in the oral tradition, now utterly lost to us except through Homer’s own tribute.