A Guide to the Odyssey: A Commentary on the English Translation of Robert Fitzgerald (26 page)

344–45
Auditors and readers know that Odysseus is wrong here: Athena did help him, if not as much or as obviously as he might have wished. The relationship Homer depicts between Odysseus and Athena is a complex one, strained at times but familiar enough that it can withstand such recriminations. It is because Odysseus expects so much of Athena, without actually relying on her, that he dares to complain.

348–49
in deference to her father’s brother …:
Homer gives his listeners an explanation for Athena remaining behind the scenes.

10–12
Years ago, from a raid …:
Eurymedousa is a slave in Alkínoös’ home, obviously highly valued since she was made nurse to the princess. It appears that, while the Phaiákians may be safe from piracy, they do not abstain from engaging in it. Hains worth, however, may be right in suggesting that compositorial tendencies make the attempt to resolve such a minor apparent inconsistency irrelevant: “the isolation of the Phaeacians (a special feature) is overlooked in favour of generic ideas about the provenance of slaves” (HWH 1.321 [on VII.9–12]).

Virtually no ancient culture expressed any moral reservation about slavery as an institution. This is a worthwhile observation, despite the fact that we have primarily (but not exclusively) the testimony of nonslaves. It was the lot of some to be born slaves and bad luck for others to be enslaved. But beyond hoping that one would not become enslaved (through capture or debt), or if enslaved that by luck or hard work one would be granted or could purchase one’s freedom; and apart from a few ideas that there
should be limits to inhumane treatment of slaves, no one thought matters should be other than they were.

22ff
.
the grey-eyed goddess:
Almost as if in response to Odysseus’ complaints at the end of
Book VI
(343–46), Athena appears but in disguise—to show proper respect for her uncle Poseidon (see VI.348–51). Athena manifests herself as a young girl, as if she had heard Nausikaa’s words (VI.319–20) and wanted to prove her right at once. (There is no contradiction between “boy” there and “girl” here: the Greek [VI.300–301] that Fitzgerald has rendered “any small boy” is using the masculine form as the “unmarked” gender and therefore really means “boy or girl.”)

28–29
here there is no one / known to me:
A small he, but proper. Athena would appreciate it.

31–39
Even as she helps him, Athena almost seems to mix a bit of teasing with her advice. Out of the mouth of a child, reference to Odysseus’ age as a mark of respect is plausible, but it serves to remind him of his no longer youthful appearance. She tells him to go quietly, even though she has concealed him in mist. She might be teasing him, but then Odysseus is probably unaware of the divine envelope. Her description of the Phaiákians as characteristically inhospitable, although it seems to contradict what we learn about them, keeps him on guard and explains certain breaches of etiquette. The mention of Poseidon’s favor to the Phaiákians might seem calculated to increase his anxiety unnecessarily, but Poseidon is an ancestor of the royal house (59ff.), and it is best for Odysseus to know this sooner rather than later. Further, by reminding Odysseus of the one god who is set against him, Athena will put him in mind once again of the god who is on his side.

51 ff
. The second, longer speech of Athena confirms the impression of the first: this “child” is talkative and, above all, wise beyond her years. She gives Odysseus important information Nausikaa had not—above all, the name and pedigree of Queen Arêtê.

57–58
According to the genealogy presented here, Arête has married
her father’s brother. If somewhat unusual, this would not have been considered incestuous or been cause for scandal. The legendary family trees of founding dynastic families and gods are characterized by marriages of close relatives, as are the family trees in historic times of aristocratic and especially royal families. By this means power remains concentrated.

57
her name is Arêtê:
In the Greek, Athena actually tells Odysseus that her name is “significant” or “etymologically meaningful” [
epônumon
, 54]. “Arêtê” is related to the verb “I invoke, I pray for” (
araomai
) and thus means “she who is prayed to,” or less likely, “she who is prayed for.” It is a name invented for the figure to whom Odysseus turns for help. The Homeric phrase
onoma epônumon
(“significant name”) not only points again to the natural power of language but itself exemplifies it:
epônumon
is formed out of
onoma
(“name”). It is nearly as jingling and circular as “naming name” would be in English.

71–75
We wonder if Odysseus did not think of Penélopê at this point.

79–81
The last three verses of Athena’s speech are, with one minor change, a repetition of the concluding verses of Nausikaa’s (VI.332–34 [313–15]; the variation: Nausikaa calls his home “well-built” [315], Athena calls it “high-roofed” [77]).

89ff
.
High rooms he saw ahead …:
This is an impressive palace by any standards, and fabulously wealthy for ancient Greeks.

101
undying dogs:
Keep Homer’s insistence on the immortality of these gold and silver Hephaistian dogs in mind. It serves as a point of comparison with Odysseus’ hound Argos (XVII.375ff.), however unlikely it is that the audience of an oral recitation over multiple days could have made such a link.

111
yellow corn:
Not of course maize but wheat or some other grain (Homer is not at all specific). Our translator is not wrong, he is simply using “corn” to mean “grain,” as the British still do.

113
like the leaves of a poplar tree:
One of the briefest Homeric
similes (not even a full line in Greek [106]), but among the most striking. At least one later Greek poet, Sophocles, thought so too, to judge from his imitation of it.

124ff
. The never-failing fruit, even if Homer provides a meteorological explanation (126), is reminiscent of descriptions of the Golden Age, an early epoch when, as in Eden, food was abundant without toil and humans had not yet become desirous of wealth. Obviously, Skhería, though in some ways paradisal, is not a Golden Age utopia in all details (see VI.35, above).

137–41
and through the garden plots …:
The abundance of water was the greatest gift of all for Greeks and other Mediterraneans—the great poet Pindar at the opening of his most famous poem sings “water is best” (
Olympian
1)—and Homer caps his description of the garden with its two fountains. It is a general principle—not just in Greek poetry—that the two most prominent positions are the beginning and the end.

142–43
A typical Homeric structure. At 86–88 Odysseus was described before the palace, obviously looking about him. Homer now reintroduces him, gazing with wonder. The entire description of what he sees from the threshold, both within and without, is framed by the name “Odysseus.” As a structural device, this framing is known as “ring composition. See VIII.499, IX.41–43 (the fullest discussion), XI.192–227, XV.314, and XIX.62–63, below.

147
before going to bed:
Homer has Odysseus arrive at the very end of the evening.

156
With his first words Odysseus makes use of the information the “little girl” had given him, the queen’s name and that of her father.

166ff
.
No one stirred:
The lack of response is surprising. It is perhaps best explained by the Phaiákians’ complete surprise—Odysseus appeared before their eyes when he was already grasping Arêtê’s knees (151–52); this still moment has the further effect of prolonging suspense for Homer’s audience: what will happen?

167–68
The counsel of Ekhenêos will carry most weight precisely because he is the oldest. Although he is lower in rank than Alkínoös, his age gives him the right to lecture the king.

194
A fresh bowl:
That is, for all in the feasting hall [180] (see 198).

204
seniors:
A gathering of the elders,
gerousia
in Greek (although the noun does not occur in Homer),
senatus
in Latin (from
senex
), whence our word “senate.” The respect shown to the wisdom of the elders in Skhería is another indication of this kingdom’s good government and social order.

211–13
Alkínoös is wise enough to know what is beyond his ken, and of course, even as the audience learns that Odysseus has reached a safe haven from which he can expect to be conveyed home, it is reminded by these ominous words of the problems he will face on Ithaka.

212
Spinners:
After Homer, the number of “fates” became established as three, and their tasks were assigned: the “spinner” [
Klôthô
], the “apportioner” [
Lakhesis
], and the “cutter” [
Atropos
] of the thread of life. Something like this must be behind the Homeric image of the “Spinners” [
Klôthes
], but it goes unsaid, and is thus more mysterious and powerful. See also I.28, above.

213
This sounds fatalistic, and although it is characteristic of one mode in which Homer, his characters, and many other ancient Greek writers speak, at the same time Greek heroes strive in the firm belief that their actions can make a difference. If we seek to harmonize these two perspectives, it might be best to imagine that the Fates spun a broad web in which people could act. “In general,
moira
is mentioned as an explanation, more remote and general than the gods, for untimely or unwelcome events, but the decisions a man takes in response to those events remain his own” (Hainsworth, HWH 1.333 [on VII. 196–98], with further reference to Adkins [see Bibliography], pp. 17–29). (Certain expressions of fate seem to defy easy systematization: see the Greek
huper moron
, discussed at I.51–52, above.)

We might be less troubled by our inability to resolve all the apparent discrepancies in the Greek conception of fate if we think of a contemporary example, say, the ongoing debate between “nature” and “nurture”—that is, between the role of inherited characteristics and genetic predisposition, on the one hand, and that of cultural education and personal choice, on the other—in explaining a whole range of observed human differences.

214–21
If, as may be, he is some god …:
A significant variation on the commonplace, well established after the speeches of Odysseus and Nausikaa in
Book VI
, used when one suspects that one’s unknown interlocutor might be a god. As Alkínoös explains, the Phaiákians, being kin of the gods, sometimes receive divine visitors. Hence, while entertaining the possibility that Odysseus is immortal—good insurance if he is, a nice compliment if he is not—Alkínoös is inclined to doubt it.

228
as I might tell you:
This looks forward to Odysseus’ long account of his travails (IX.2-XII.580).

230ff
. The demands of Odysseus’ belly are pressing, a sign—he grimly but humorously notes—that he is all too human, most certainly no god. At the same time, it was a minor breach of etiquette on Alkínoös’ part to ask his guest any question before feeding him (see III.46–55, above).

232
like a dog:
Strongly negative; despite some good Homeric press, dogs in Greek eyes were most notable for the shameless way they satisfied their physical urges when and where they could. They represented the pure “animal,” above which “cultured humans” were expected to rise. Odysseus conveys at once that he is cultured, by giving voice to these expectations, and in desperate straits, by being reduced to the level of a dog.

241
my hall, my lands, my people:
Odysseus makes clear here not only that he is a cultured human but that he is a property and slave owner (ambiguous in English, quite clear in Greek [225]). We wonder why, for the moment at least, Odysseus omits any mention of wife and family.

250ff
. Arêtê is a clever queen, and this is a clever turn. Note also Homer’s cunning: while he prepares much, he also permits certain surprises. Despite her concern for propriety and her careful instructions to Odysseus, Nausikaa did not foresee this. Or did she? Note also Arêtê’s cunning indirection: although Homer tells us that she has recognized the clothes, her words do not betray the exact reason for her suspicions (254–56).

258–319
Odysseus, as he announces, will now recount only a portion of his story. He senses what must be explained, and his narrative ends with an explanation of how he got “this clothing” (318). The departure and seventeen-day voyage from Ogýgia (280ff.), the storm, and his arrival on the shores of Skhería will explain why he was in so obvious a state of need when he met Nausikaa. Here there is clear logic behind the Homeric practice of responding to the questions of one’s interlocutor in reverse order. But why does Odysseus begin where he does (261ff.)? Most likely because it explains what he was doing, without his companions on Ogýgia to begin with. The description of his time with Kalypso has at least one and perhaps two further purposes: it presents Odysseus as a man favored as well as pursued by the gods. It also might suggest this contradictory line of thought: if this man turned down an offer of immortality and everlasting youth by a beautiful goddess (1) he is not likely to be interested in remaining here and marrying Arêtê’s daughter rather than returning to the home he constantly longs for, and (2) he would be a very attractive catch for Nausikaa.