A Guide to the Odyssey: A Commentary on the English Translation of Robert Fitzgerald (52 page)

347–428
Now there was one …:
Homer initiates a series of scenes focusing on individuals begging for mercy. (For other examples in
The Odyssey
, see
Book X
.361ff.: Odysseus threatening Kirkê; and there are battlefield instances in
The Iliad
, for example, Lykaon’s entreaties of Akhilleus, XXI.74ff.) The first of the scenes ends in Odysseus’ rejection of Leódês’ request (347–70). We met Leódês when he was the first to attempt and fail to string Odysseus’ bow (XXI.163–87).

371–400
In contrast, the next suppliant, Phêmios the minstrel, is
saved by the testimony of Telémakhos (400), but we feel that it is primarily by virtue of his singing, so nobly described by Telémakhos and Homer (388–93). (On Phêmios’ name and genealogy, see Who’s Who in
The Odyssey
, p.338.)

401–28
And we should let our herald live:
Telémakhos himself thinks to seek the herald Medôn, who hears the offer and emerges from his hiding place beneath the table (406ff). This is a moment of comic relief amid the exaltation of battle and the grim carnage, and a notable variation on the theme of universal slaughter.

432–38
In blood and dust / he saw that crowd all fallen:
All the suitors are now dead. Homer has given us a variety of scenes and is not at all pedantically concerned that we can catalog each and every one of the corpses. The scene is capped with a simile drawn from the world of fishing, a decidedly homespun and antiheroic field (434–38). The suitors, who feasted in so lordly a manner on vast quantities of animal meat, are now reduced to fish, much humbler fare.

455–66
As she gazed …:
Eurýkleia’s reaction—to raise a cry of triumph—is completely understandable, even natural, we might say, considering the oppression all the loyal members of the household have suffered for so long. But Odysseus checks her, demanding a more pious response (460–66). The suitors brought destruction upon themselves by their folly, he says, and the victory belongs to the gods and to justice itself.

469–83
Eurýkleia reports that twelve of the fifty household women have been disloyal. It is clear that she is very eager for Penélopê to be told of the astounding events in the hall. But Odysseus, and Homer of course, wish this moment to be postponed (482–83). Without revealing how he plans to punish the guilty maidservants, he tells Eurýkleia to have the twelve sent in.

474–75
taught / to be submissive:
Or, by another interpretation, “not to participate in the sexual service usually demanded of slaves.”

480
her:
Homer significantly has Eurýkleia say, “your wife,” literally “your bedmate” [
sêi alokhôi
, 429].

487–96
The disloyal servants are made to do most of the dirty work, helping remove the bodies of the suitors with whom they betrayed the house and then cleaning the gore. A cruel punishment, but one that fits the crime, as the phrase goes. Then they will be executed by Telémakhos and the two herdsmen.

514–26
The clean death of a beast
would be the swift butchering with swords that Odysseus had prescribed (493–94). Here Telémakhos acts on his own and gives the twelve a death more ignominious and protracted than death by sword blade: he hangs them. Telémakhos probably also thinks that his sword should be reserved for worthier enemies, such as male opponents or animals prized in hunting. Hanging was clearly thought to be a fitting death for women: in Greek literature at least—of which virtually all that survives was written by men—when women commit suicide they do so by hanging themselves (e.g., Neobule, insulted by Arkhilokhos; Jocasta in Sophokles’
Oidipous Tyrannos
).

527–30
The final act of meting out justice is the mutilation and death—although the latter goes undescribed—of the goatherd Melánthios, who had been left trussed up and hanging from the beams (see 206–22). This not only brings to a conclusion the lives of all Odysseus’ opponents within the house but avenges the very first wrong done to Odysseus (by Melánthios) as he approached his home in
Book XVII
(270–333). A great compositional ring is thus closed. The mutilation and feeding of body parts to animals is the worst fate that could befall a Greek upon dying (see also XVIII.95–105, above).

531
… called for a washing:
To whatever degree the hanging of the maidservants and the mutilation of Melánthios might be thought unholy and unclean, the poet has taken care that Odysseus not be implicated. Indeed, he is shown to be concerned only about ritual purity (see 545–46).

555
nodding to every one:
Or “he recognized each one of them
in his heart” [501]. It is with this half line that Homer closes
Book XXII
. Fernández-Galiano surmises (and even at the risk of over-reading, it is a nice touch) that “Odysseus had forgotten the names after” so many years, “but now, as he runs his eyes over the crowd of faces, he brings to mind each individual’s name” (HWH 3.310 [on XXII.501]).

12–25
Penélopê rejects Eurýkleia’s report. While her initial response is one that anyone in a comparable situation might have uttered in sheer astonishment and disbelief, it in fact establishes the issue of the coming book. Few of Homer’s (first-time) listeners or readers will have imagined at this point how much effort it will take to bring Penélopê around to a complete and public acceptance of the identity of the new arrival, for only in this book do we experience the full depth of her prudence and craft. As Eurýkleia will say, reproachfully, “You always were mistrustful” (80, for more on which, see below).

20–21
ill wind / to Ilion:
An English equivalent of Homer’s “Evil-” or “Ill-Ilion” [
Kakoïlion
, 19]. As she’s done twice before (XIX.309 [260] and XIX.693 [597]), here Penélopê avoids the word “Ilium” in its pure form as one that is ill-omened, as she herself says, adding “not to be named” [
ouk onomastên
, 19]. Such “taboo deformation” is still current in the by-forms of what (to the orthodox at least) would be blasphemous oaths, such as
“Jiminy Cricket” or “Judas Priest” (for “Jesus Christ”) or to replace what would be unacceptable diction in certain contexts, such as “shoot” or “darn.” It is interesting that
Kakoïlion
occurs only in Penélopê’s speech, although Telémakhos will shortly coin a comparable term for her (see 110–11, below; also XVIII.87, above).

30–39
We may imagine a thought passing through Penélopê’s mind at lines 30–32: if this is Odysseus, why did he trust Telémakhos and not trust me? Homer gives no hint of this but describes her as full of joy and questions (33–39). That understandable joyousness is important, too: all the caution that follows is enforced by her powerful will and prudence winning over her natural desire to want Odysseus’ return to be true.

41–44
Though brief, this is a wonderful revisitation of the events of the preceding book, which Homer presented to us in such vivid directness. Now we relive this time as it was experienced by those locked in silence in the neighboring rooms.

55
Then he sent me here to you:
As he bade her at XXI.537.

56
embark
may seem like an odd word, reminiscent of the sea voyage that has so long separated the couple. Perhaps Eurýkleia’s idea is that the new “voyage” her word evokes will erase the memories of the old. Yet Odysseus will have another trip to take in his final trial. (See XI. 133–52, Teirêsias’ prophecy, and XXIII.281–318, where Homer shows that it is very much on Odysseus’ mind. On the question of his “seaborne death,” see XI.148, above.)

67
your notion:
Or “story”—the Greek is
muthos
[62], source of our word “myth,” although the Greek didn’t have the implication of “falsehood” or “fantasy” that English “myth” now does.

69–73
Some god has killed the suitors …:
Even as she denies Eurýkleia’s report, Penélopê expresses a truth that Eurýkleia has omitted—for a god was involved in the punishment of the suitors—and expresses a profound piety. Giving voice to the same kind of piety as Odysseus’ (XXII.460–66, words also spoken to
Eurýkleia), Penélopê unwittingly (but Homer quite carefully) displays the depth of
homophrosunê
, “agreement” or “harmony of mind,” that characterizes the couple.

80
Child, you always were mistrustful:
Heubeck (HWH 3.319 [on XXIII.70–72]) reminds us to recall Kalypso’s and then Athena’s response to Odysseus’ characteristically cautious skepticism (V.193–94 and XIII.417–22, respectively). This is yet another instance of the couple’s “harmony of minds.”

81–93
The nurse reports to Penélopê how she came upon the “sure mark” (81) of the scar, revealing that, like Telémakhos, she has believed that the stranger is Odysseus for some time. She explains that she was restrained from telling Penélopê. This must have a profound effect on Penélopê, but at least in her response to Eurýkleia she maintains the facade of cool resolve. Immortals frequently do appear disguised as mortals in
The Odyssey
, and Penélopê’s pious husband and son at various junctures also allow for this possibility (VI. 161–64 and XVI.211–35, respectively, although the first instance is likely only rhetorical). Homer’s audience may well have known of the story of Heraklês’ engendering, when Zeus appeared to Alkmênê disguised as her mortal husband, Amphitryon, returning from foreign wars and travels. If the audience recalled this, Odysseus’ return would be a tacit counterexample, but not before the poet has played with the possibility of it being a true model (see 272–77, below).

93
and that strange one:
Homer says only “and who” [84].

94–100
She turned then …:
Homer tells us that Penélopê’s heart is now “in tumult” (94–95). Still uncertain of what course to take and no doubt fearing that she may be swept away by the joy so long anticipated and make some terrible mistake of judgment, she holds to her course of prudence. Homer’s style is such that we cannot definitively determine if “her husband” (96) conveys what listeners have known for some time or if it represents Penélopê’s own thought to herself. If the latter is the case, it would be an early example of what is called “indirect free
style”—which historians of narrative generally regard Flaubert to have invented, or to have definitively exemplified in
Madame Bovary
. Note that although the name “Odysseus” in line 100 would logically be open to the same analysis, because it lacks the emotive and personal force of “her husband” [
philon posin
, 86] it is clear that it fits into the language of the objective narrator (see also XVIII.351, XX.433, and XXI.5, above).

101–38
Odysseus, of one mind and spirit with his wife, understands her caution perfectly. Telémakhos, however, is disappointed; in some ways a child again, he longs to see his parents united, something he never experienced as a boy, and he breaks the highly charged silence. He accuses his mother of being hardhearted (110–17). Penélopê ably justifies her position: she will demand her own signs (119–25). Odysseus not only concurs (129–32) but is content to let her come to her recognition of him at her own pace. He tactfully reduces the pressure on Penélopê by changing the subject to another issue: the political problems Odysseus and Telémakhos face as the murderers of the suitors, especially the Ithakans among them (133–38). This is no mere conversational diversion: even as Homer is about to complete a major pattern in his design with the long-awaited reunion of Odysseus and Penélopê, he opens up a new design element that will demand resolution. The issue is not resolved until the final book, which his listeners will now feel is required.

104
wife:
Homer attaches an epithet to the word, calling her “strong” or “excellent” [
iphthimê
, 92].

110–11
Mother, / cruel mother:
With his
mêter emê, dusmêter
[97], Telémakhos coins a term comparable to Penélopê’s “Ill-Ilion” (see 20–21, above).

142
foresighted in combat:
Telémakhos refers to general “cunning,” or
mêtis
[125]. (See also IX.394 and XX.21, above, and the following note.)

149–58
Here is our best maneuver
…: Odysseus is ever-ready with a ruse, in this case one calculated not to solve the problem
but to buy time. Perhaps the greatest mark of a strategist is not whether or not he or she can devise complex plots, because the best strategists know that many elements are out of their control. Rather, the key is to remain flexible and be prepared to improvise in whatever situation develops. Note also that this is the first time that Penélopê will be seeing “the stranger” acting as the lord of the house, giving orders. She will now see that Telémakhos and the servants obey him as if he were Odysseus. This might be sufficient to persuade another person, but Penélopê, equal in strategies to her husband, keeps her own counsel and sets her own tests.