A Guide to the Odyssey: A Commentary on the English Translation of Robert Fitzgerald (28 page)

As a result of the variety of events in this scene, Homer’s audience would have had the sense of experiencing these extraordinary games in their entirety. Typically, when the narrative contains a series of events, one of them is treated at length and the rest in summary. The Kyklops episode, for example, gets lengthy treatment in the series of Odysseus’ wanderings. (HWH 1.353 [on VIII. 104–255]). At the same time, it is obvious how another poet, or the same poet in another performance, could alter the structure by varying events, slotting in others, or actually describing one or more of the competitions for which Homer gives only the final result.

145
not old:
Or, perhaps, “not past his prime” [136–37]. Laódamas recognizes that Odysseus is a good bit older and will shortly address him with the same
xeine pater
(VIII. 153 [145]) used by the “little girl” (the disguised Athena) who met him on his way to Alkínoös’ palace. There (VII.31) Fitzgerald translates the phrase
as “good grandfer,” here (VIII. 153) as “Excellency.” Both work in their contexts.

This is a convenient reminder that the translator often renders the same Greek word differently in different contexts, and, likewise, that different Greek words may be translated by the same word in English. This is not a license granted only to translators of ancient poetry, who face difficulties of a very particular kind. In fact, it would be wrong to expect a translator of any but the most technical of texts consistently to render a recurring word or phrase in his source with an unvarying equivalent. Why? Because no two cultures—not even contemporary cultures—have exactly the same descriptive methods, and, perhaps even more important, no two cultures break down the world they share at precisely the same points. (For the example of color words, see IV. 146, above.) The translator is thus in some sense doomed to only partial success, but one can choose to look at the partial “failures” of translation archeologically, as revealing the slippages between different times and cultures.

155–59
While a man lives he wins no greater honor:
The importance of sporting competitions and the honor bestowed on participants and above all winners (155–56) was demonstrated by local and national games—not just those at Olympia, which we have revived in this century, albeit in a very different form, but others, such as the Pythian, Isthmian, and Nemean games. The only complete poems we have of the great poet Pindar (late
sixth—
early fifth
centuries
B.C.E
.) are odes
commissioned and
sung to celebrate the victors of these contests.

The idea of athletic competition as respite from more serious troubles is expressed directly by Laódamas in the next line (157), which Odysseus, given his war experiences, inflects rather differently (compare 162–3 and 191–2). Laódamas’ closing remark only sets up a further irony: Odysseus’ arrival in Ithaka now seems assured (the gods willing), but as the audience of Books I-IV knows very well, his troubles are far from over.

165ff
.
Now Seareach put his word in …:
The confrontation between Seareach [
Euryalos
] and Odysseus and the hero’s decisive victory clearly foreshadow the more extended confrontation between him and Penélopê’s suitors, also younger men. There, too, an athletic competition of sorts will be crucial (Book XXI, to which Fitzgerald has given the tide “The Test of the Bow”).

167–73
It is very important to recognize that Seareach does not insult Odysseus by saying that he is too old. It would merely be a statement of fact, given the general respect for elders in Greek society (see VII.203, above). Rather, Seareach’s slight is based on social status. He insults Odysseus by claiming that he is not an aristocrat, who would have had the money and leisure to learn a sport and develop skill (168). Seareach charges that Odysseus is the captain of a merchant ship, and traders and all businessmen were despised by the aristocracy and the warrior class, who derived their wealth from tribute or the revenues of inherited property they did not work with their own hands. Even piracy was more respectable than trade.

This social perspective should be kept in mind in the second half of
The Odyssey
, when Odysseus claims to be just such a trading merchant. It is an integral part of his disguise, in all particulars calculated to keep the suitors from seeing him as a threat. Their attitude toward merchants is the same as Seareach’s.

175
friend:
The word Odysseus uses is
xein’
[166].
Xeinos
is at once “guest” and “host,” “stranger” and, in certain contexts, “friend.” Odysseus is primarily rebuking Seareach for a violation of the codes of hospitality (see “host,” VIII.220). Insofar as aristocrats and nobles were not exempt from the code of hospitality (indeed, as befitted their position and wealth they were expected to uphold it rigorously and ostentatiously), Odysseus sharply throws Seareach’s insult back into his teeth. (Fitzgerald’s “fool” is on the weak side; the Greek [166] would support “vicious” or even “wicked.”)

227–40
Odysseus, having recently had more war experience than
time for games, characteristically thinks of contests on the field of battle. He relates his athletic skill in terms of martial prowess, a standard comparison at that time. With all his talk here, it is unlikely that he is threatening any of the Phaiákians.

231–32
Philoktêtês alone …:
In fact, according to another oracle (see also 84–85, above), Troy could not fall without Philoktêtês’ bow. If Sophocles’ tragedy of the same name represents the stories circulating at the time
The Odyssey
took shape, Odysseus’ mention of Philoktêtês verges on bad faith, since Philoktêtês was, for a time at least, treated very shabbily by the Ithakan hero.

235–40
Although it appears an example of scrupulous modesty, in fact, for Odysseus to rank himself with the greatest archers of all time only aggrandizes his claim, especially since the two he mentions were in the same league as the gods, with fatal consequences in Eurýtos’ case. According to the story (which follows a very standard pattern), Eurýtos challenged all comers to an archery contest. To anyone who could beat him he would give his daughter Iole. Heraklês took up the challenge and won, but Eurýtos then refused to make good on his promise. Heraklês killed Eurýtos, laid waste his city, and took Iole anyhow.

Note that Odysseus is invoking these names and the story to a king with a marriageable daughter.

255
wife and children:
Odysseus has not mentioned that he has either. This is probably a matter, as some believe, of little concern to Homer, who sometimes gives characters knowledge of what he has told only to the audience. However, this is not likely to be the case here, given Homer’s concern to postpone the identification of Odysseus as long as possible. Moreover, Odysseus does not have
children
, he has one son. It seems that Alkínoös is either fishing or making a likely assumption. A man of Odysseus’ status would take a wife if for no other reason than to cement inter-family alliances and have someone to manage his household. And he would want children to take care of him in his old age, to effect beneficial marriage alliances, and ultimately to inherit his property
and carry on his line. (At 438 Seareach, following the king here, also seems certain that the still unidentified Odysseus has a wife.)

261–63
The Phaiákians, enjoying their blessings, have a luxurious life-style that must have seemed almost fabulous to Homer’s original audience. (The Phaiákians have had a reputation as voluptuaries ever since. A generous sampling of post-Homeric Greek and Classical Latin opinions are tabulated by Hainsworth in HWH I.341.) That they pride themselves on singing, dancing, and poetry means they are cultured and fortunate. It would be anachronistic to imagine that this branded them as “aesthetes” in any negative sense: music, poetry, and dance were enjoyed by and came from the gods, and the great pan-Hellenic competitions included contests in the singing of poetry. (All the great fifth-century
B.C.E
. Athenian drama, both tragedy and comedy, was produced in competitions at which one of usually three competing playwright-producer teams would be given the prize. In “referees” (272) we see a trace of the competitive context of dance and music in what is to be only an “exhibition game.”) Homer, then, is giving Odysseus a highly cultivated audience for his own narrative, to begin in
Book IX
.

280–392
Now to his harp the blinded minstrel sang / of Arês’ dalliance with Aphroditê:
The tale of Aphroditê, Arês, and Hephaistos, has seemed shocking to some critics over the millennia, blasphemous to others. Such moralizing shafts glance off Homer. The Trojan War itself is a consequence of adultery, and the stories of Greek gods were never intended to provide moral models. The gods were in part enviable because they could enjoy pleasures only dreamt of by humans—virtually without censure. The lovely fable seems appropriate for the Phaiákians, whose existence in Skhería is virtually carefree. Demódokos has chosen the theme and shaped it to end with the composition of a quarrel with an eye to his immediate audience: having witnessed the unpleasant exchange between Seareach and Odysseus,
the singer knows why Alkínoös has asked him to perform at this very moment.

Homer, the poet behind the Phaiákian singer, chose the tale with another perspective in mind. In the economy of
The Odyssey
, the story of divine adultery contrasts with the story of Odysseus, Penélopê, and the suitors. On the level of significant detail, marriage beds and weaving are central to both stories. When one reads the one plot against the other, crucial differences emerge: the faithful Penélopê makes no suitor her Ares, and Odysseus is no cuckold. The net with which Hephaistos catches the lovers anticipates Odysseus’ trap of the suitors, but the hero’s punishment of the suitors is grim and final, as no punishment can be for immortal gods. Precisely because they are immortal their battles are of less moment, less is at stake; while for humans, fidelity becomes a matter of life and death. This contrast runs as a thread through all interactions between mortal and immortal Greeks. The gods inhabit a fantasy world free from death. As a consequence, their struggles are artificial and trivial, lacking the significance that human striving takes on by virtue of the fact that humans must ultimately pay with their lives.

That the gods were such poor models for human behavior troubled Greek philosophers even before Plato, hence the impulse to allegorize Homer and make the greatest poet a spokesman for whatever ideal an individual moralist or culture might prefer. However, the song of the bard is less egregious within the context of archaic poetry than it may at first appear. In scope and tone it resembles those
Homeric Hymns
which tell of the pranks and even deceptions of the gods (though apparently it would be earlier than any of the extant
Homeric Hymns
).

327
devastating: Hephaistos means this literally—“destructive,” “hateful,” even “damnable” (the Greek [309] probably was related by popular etymology to the word “Hades”)—not in the sense of “devastatingly good-looking.” His reference to Ares’
good looks and healthy legs (in contrast to his own) comes in the next line. (For further connotations of this epithet, see 70, above.)

330
two gods who bred me:
Zeus and Hera.

337
Father:
Zeus was not only his father but the father of the bride, Aphroditê. The “wedding gifts” reflect the custom of the bride-price—the groom must give a gift to the bride’s father or nearest male relative. The word in Homer [
eedna
, 318] refers half the time to bride-price, the other half to dowry. No explanation for this seemingly undecidable discrepancy has attained wide acceptance (see Introduction, p. xlv).

338
damned pigeon:
“Shameless bitch” would perhaps more accurately render Hephaistos’ harsh words. Literally, the Greek phrase is “dog-faced girl” [319], a good example of how misleading the “literal” can be. Clearly, “dog” could not refer to Aphrodite’s physical appearance. It plays off the proverbial shamelessness of the animal (see VII.232, above).

344
The goddesses stayed home:
A nice touch, but even more another example of the double standard of Greek culture projected onto the gods. The gods of poetry were fantasy figures, almost without exception projections of male fantasy. By “gods of poetry” I mean to exclude the numerous cults, practices, and legends in which women played a real part. Those were part of the real religious life, and we mustn’t imagine that Greek religious observance was limited to the Olympians, or even pursued in Homer’s time in any form like the practices his poems describe (see Introduction, p. li).

357ff
. Note the extravagant massing of traditional epithets in Apollo’s first line (357 [335]) and their only slightly less extravagant use in Hermês’ reply (361 [339]). Their formality in this very irregular context is part of the cultivated banter in which the speakers are engaged. I take their appearance and function here as important evidence that Homer could use traditional epithets not only consciously, but ironically as well.

366
The ever-serious Poseidon will have a special resonance for Odysseus and the audience.