A Guide to the Odyssey: A Commentary on the English Translation of Robert Fitzgerald (49 page)

45–49
Odysseus, politician as well as warrior, already foresees the difficulties he will have in Ithaka because of the slaughter of the suitors: their families will be hot for vengeance. Homer shows him thinking ahead, and the poet himself prepares the audience to expect a treatment of events beyond the slaughter of
Book XXII
and the recognition of
Book XXIII
. Does Odysseus seem less than confident, even in Athena, as the goddess implies (51–57)? If so, it is an interesting contrast with the facade of strong faith he presents to and seeks to inculcate in his son.

69ff
. Here we see a desperate Penélopê; at this juncture she is obviously not convinced, and doesn’t suspect, that the Kretan is Odysseus, for if she did, she wouldn’t pray for death. A different plot shape, a tragic one, might see her wish granted while her husband slept on her doorstep.

74
tides:
Homer seems to refer to larger changes of flow in what the ancients imagined to be the encircling River Ocean. But the translator is right not to distract his audience at this point—the original audience was not given a lesson in the history of science—and only a pedantic commentator writes a note such as this.

75–88
Pandáreos’ daughters:
Penélopê alluded to the fate of one of Pandáreos’ daughters at XIX.601–7, but that tale seems irrelevant here. The story described here has left no other trace
in literature. Even as we remain in the dark, we can ponder how many stories well known to Homer’s audiences are utterly lost to us.

79
wit:
Or “prudence,” “good sense” [
pinutê
, 71]; a gift Penélopê particularly appreciates (see 149, below).

91–92
These are particularly ironic lines: Homer’s audience knows that Odysseus saw the shades only as a visitor and doesn’t dwell in the underworld yet. It is wise on the poet’s part to keep in our minds the theme of shades gathering in the underworld—although it is standard epic fare—for the first part of
Book XXIV
will show us the suitors in hell.

99–101
Another case where dreams approach truth more nearly than what a character takes to be reality.

100
as I remember him with troops:
Not of course
at
Troy but as he went off to that war or some earlier conflict. In the field of the dream’s fulfillment, the “troops” will consist of Telémakhos, Eumaios, and Philoítios.

110–138
O Father Zeus …:
Ancient heroes frequently ask the gods for a sign or omen—and in literature they never draw a blank. In the Greek tradition, there is no injunction against tempting the Lord as there is in the Judeo-Christian one (Deuteronomy 6:16, quoted by Jesus at Matthew 4:7 and Luke 4:12).

122–38
In contrast to the wanton maidservants, here is one—and not the only one—of Odysseus’ household to be true to him. It is not accidental that she is old:
The Odyssey
is a celebration of maturity and staying power, the wisdom of lived experience over hot youth.

134–35
They’ve made me work …:
Note the realistic touch that this aged laborer’s resentment at the suitors focuses on the fact that their feasting forces her to grind overtime, so to speak.

148–51
My mother is like that:
This seems quite odd in Telémakhos’ mouth, but it is said with no little irony on his part. He of course knows who the guest is and is no doubt proud to be sole possessor of the knowledge—so he thinks (see 153–61, below). At
lines 150–51 Telémakhos voices the suspicion that his mother has not recognized that the beggar, taken as “riff-raff” by the suitors, is in fact a “solid man.” Or he pretends to suspect this: the entire remark may be intended to function as part of the smoke screen around the guest’s true identity.

149
perverse for all her cleverness:
Or “though she be prudent” [
pinutê
, 131] (see 79, above).

153–61
Eurýkleia responds, and of course by this exchange Homer can engage us in an irony much subtler than Telémakhos’ almost rude joke. We are witness to an exchange between two persons each of whom thinks that he or she alone knows the guest’s identity, and neither of whom would dream of letting it on to the other. Note one major bit of hospitality Eurýkleia quite consciously omits: the footbath she gave Odysseus.

174
holiday
catches part of the tone of the Greek “festival” [156], although it misses the religious overtones of “holy day” (see XXI.293). Festivals had ceremonial and cultic aspects. It is doubtful that most household slaves ever had the leisure time “holiday” implies; if anything, they would have had more work to do on such days. Stanford adds, “We may guess that part of [Eurýkleia’s] excitement was also due to her knowledge of Odysseus’ presence now” (2.348 [XV. 149ff.]).

Ancient scholars suggested that the festival was that of the new moon, holy to Apollo. However fitting it might be for the archery contest to follow, and however closely the new moon festival can be made to square with a reconstructed chronology of the days of Odysseus’ return (see XIV.539), if Homer had expected his audience to make such a connection, it is hard to believe that he wouldn’t have made a more explicit reference than the delayed mention of Apollo at 305–6 (see 305–6, below).

175ff
. Dawn had come at line 102. Here Homer depicts the practical break of day, as servants begin to bustle about their chores and members of the household who live on the land and others arrive, bringing—or driving—their produce to the great house.

194–201
Once again Odysseus must restrain his anger.

202
A third man came up now …:
In contrast to the nasty Melánthios, a new man, Philoítios, a much more agreeable sort, arrives. There are honest people alongside the rotten. His name means something like “desirable fate.”

203
the cattle foreman:
We now have assembled a swineherd, a goatherd, and a cowherd. For a complete quartet of ancient herdsmen, we lack only a shepherd. Rivalries between and among representatives of each group are traditional in Greek poetry and presumably reflect the competition for grazing space in which the real-life counterparts of these literary herdsmen engaged. Goatherds are usually presented as the rudest and crudest of the lot, and Melánthios stands at the head of this literary tradition. (After Homer, swineherds appear less frequently than the others; indeed, swine tended to be kept closer to home.)

219–48
Welcome, Sir …:
Philoítios’ speech shows him to be a pious man and above all a loyal and courageous retainer of his master, courageous because he shows his loyalty to Odysseus before establishing what if any ties the stranger has to the suitors. In Greek, his first words (219–20 [199–200]) are identical to those spoken in
Book XVIII
(154–55 [122–23]).

230–33
The multiplication of Odysseus’ herds Philoítios describes is an indication both of his good husbandry and of Odysseus’ prosperity, itself a token of good kingship.

252–54
This oath recalls the words Odysseus spoke to Eumaios in
Book XIV
(189–90 [XX.230–31 = XIV. 158–59]). They are also twice addressed to Penélopê (XVII. 194–95 [155–56] and XIX.356–58 [303–4], the last time slightly varied).

260
The point of the introduction of Philoítios at this juncture now becomes clear: Homer is gathering a group of loyal retainers, fit but few, to join Odysseus and Telémakhos in the fight. Even though Athena has assured Odysseus that her aid alone would guarantee him victory (see 54–57), it is characteristic of both Odysseus and Homer to recruit a few more characters: characteristic
of the former, because, as Athena herself noted (e.g., in the same spot), he never puts his trust entirely in her—no doubt one of the reasons she is so fond of him, according to the principle that “God helps those who help themselves.” And it is characteristic of a Homer who seeks opportunities of variety and movement: as we will see, the battle with four against the massed suitors is more interesting and varied than it could have been with only two champions. It is also slightly more credible, a significant factor, although perhaps the least important of the ones mentioned here.

266–71
for Telémakhos? …:
Once again (as at XVI.483–93), Amphínomos’ combination of real or feigned piety and cowardice saves the day for Telémakhos. The other suitors, however, are only too happy to continue feasting (271). On the significance of “from the left” (266), see XV.197, above.

294–300
Antínoös, bolder than ever, alludes to designs on Telémakhos’ life not only in public but in Telémakhos’ presence.

305–6
The reference to Apollo the Archer, while a traditional epithet [
hekatêbolou
, 278], is not accidental here. Odysseus will invoke Apollo just before he shoots the first of the suitors (XXII.7). Indeed, the entire scene of the animals being led to sacrifice (303–4; see Eurýkleia’s “holiday,” 174, above) seems to have a largely symbolic significance: note the juxtaposition of islanders sacrificing beasts (303–6) with the suitors eating meat (306–8). Soon the suitors will be slaughtered (if not technically sacrificed), many dying by Odysseus’ and Telémakhos’ arrows.

312–14
But Athena / had no desire …:
Compare XVIII. 194–96. Athena, in other words Homer, wants the injuries against Odysseus and outrages against the gods to be fresh in the minds of one and all, so that retribution appears both swift and just.

315–55
The third in the series of scenes of objects being hurled at Odysseus (compare XVII.605–12 and XVIII.481–88). The distinguishing features of this episode are that the assault is unprovoked and that it leads to a heated debate about the suitors’
prerogatives (see also XVII.605–12, above). Ktésippos’ sarcasm is memorable, and not very appealing.

340
This foreshadows the general action of
Book XXII
, even if in the end it is Philoítios who kills Ktésippos (XXII.315–22), where the justice of the cowherd acting as Odysseus’ avenger is made abundantly clear.

351–55
Granted you mean at last to cut me down:
Telémakhos openly acknowledges the threats against his life, a provocative and generally risky maneuver, since it removes secrecy as a reason for the suitors to delay their plot to assassinate him. Yet it is a calculated risk and provocation. Is he hoping that open conflict will break out at once?

360
like a fishwife:
A comparison introduced by the translator. The original is less colorful [“with hostile words,” 323].

386–92
The suitors’ fit of laughter does not follow logically on Telémakhos’ speech. Some have argued that the “natural glee” of the suitors, who “have just heard what sounds like the fulfillment of their long-deferred hope” (Stanford 2.353 [on XX.345ff.]), is the starting point of the laughter which ensues, but that mistakes the situation. First, while Telémakhos says he will not oppose the marriage, he leaves the decision to Penélopê: he will not force her (384–85). This isn’t substantially different from the position he told the suitors he would adopt after at most a year of hearing nothing about his father (II.229–34). Rather, it is the disjunction of Telémakhos’ speech and the suitors’ reaction which is the point of this memorable and uncanny episode. Athena inspires this crazed laughter, a sign less of the suitors’ folly than of their impending doom. This is the reading of the prophet Theoklýmenos, whose function in the poem is to pronounce sentence on the suitors.

388
uncontrollable:
Or “unextinguishable,” as of flame or light [
asbeston
, 346].

393–427
Theoklýmenos, “the visionary,” sees clearly the doom of the suitors and leaves. There is plenty of drama in the scene, but
Homer opts for realistic rather than melodramatic touches by having the suitors continue their joking (402–6, 417–27). They make fun of the seer’s vision—the motivation of their laughter (402) is once again in the realm of the comprehensible—yet it is clear that they are the ones who are blind. (For a Biblical analogue with full melodramatic development, see Daniel at Belshazzar’s feast, Daniel 5.)

404
In the Greek, Eurýmakhos adds the xenophobic charge “from another country” [
allothen eilêlouthas
, 360].

427
The
Sikels
were the “natives” whom the Greeks of Homer’s day, during the first era of intensive Hellenic westward expansion and colonization, encountered in Sicily. (Modern scholars doubt they were indigenous Sicilians but rather believe they had come to Sicily from elsewhere; then again, there are few truly indigenous—in the sense of autochthonous or aboriginal—peoples in historic times.)

428–29
Homer keeps us in suspense: how will the battle begin? Telémakhos doesn’t know, and it may be that Odysseus doesn’t either—yet.

433
father and son:
In fact true, but she can only think “newly arrived guest whom I very much admire and son.” Once again, the often described narrative device of Homer sharing his omniscient perspective with a major character may also function as a means to convey intuitions or thoughts held just below the level of what we call consciousness (see XVIII.351, above, and XXI.5 and XXIII.94–100, below).