A Guide to the Odyssey: A Commentary on the English Translation of Robert Fitzgerald (55 page)

259–65
Why does Odysseus feel he needs to “test” his father? Why subject him to “sharp words” or taunts? Is he joking with his father? It seems unnecessarily cruel. There appears to be no satisfactory answer. Perhaps that is the point: even weeping at the sight of Laërtês, Odysseus cannot stop, cannot escape being Odysseus. Our actions appear as the habits and essential character traits they are, especially when they serve no real function: Odysseus is at bottom always tricky, he can never let well enough alone, never just trust, never just act on his emotions, unless he is emboldened (as when he boasted over his escape from the Kyklops) or angry (as in
Book XXIII
). Of course it is possible that even while admitting this, Homer’s audience could choose to enjoy this trick on Laërtês rather than overidentify with and
indulge their sympathy for the old man. The irony and mockery of Odysseus’ speech is gentle and loving, and listeners and readers can take comfort in knowing that the poet can produce an unadulterated “happy ending” within a few lines.

Heubeck, who would call the words “calculated” rather than sharp describes the entire anonymous presentation Odysseus makes (270–306) thus: “by posing questions, awaking memories, and stirring long-suppressed feelings, Odysseus forces his father … [first] to answer, … [then] to ask questions …, and so, step by step, to emerge from his self-inflicted isolation and apathy” (HWH 3.390 [on XXIV.244–79]; see also 396–97 [on XXIV.315–17]). Murnaghan offers an explanation which covers structural as well as therapeutic motifs. While too subtle to be summarized in a few words (see Murnaghan 26–34 for the full argument), it runs along these lines: “the imbalance in their [Odysseus’ and Laërtês’] relationship” is emphasized both by “the extremity of Laërtês’ destitution, which is expressed in the transfer of the motifs of disguise [patches and rags] to him, and [by] the placement of the episode late in the narrative, which gives it a belated and tacked-on quality…. [Only] late in the story when his return is virtually complete … is Odysseus’ presence sufficiently powerful to bring Laërtes out of the decline that has been his response to the suitors’ presence” (31).

278–85
your master:
As part of his pose, Odysseus pretends to take Laërtês for a slave (note esp. 285). Assuming this, he indulges in the further irony of saying that this slave looks more like a king.

294–98
I entertained the men …:
Odysseus as an anonymous stranger pretends to Laërtês to have hosted his son.

316
Laërtês does not make a big production about revealing that he is Odysseus’ father. He clearly has no interest in excusing his shabby appearance or even describing his personal distress, as the shade of his wife and Eumaios had.

333–45
In response to the formulaic questions (328–31), Odysseus tells yet another tale of origins. This final one is not the nth
variant on the Kretan story but a completely new fib. The names are all significant, which explains Fitzgerald’s choice of interpretive translation over transliteration. There is particular poignance in Odysseus, once again as “stranger,” telling his own grief-stricken father that he is the only son of a king named “Allwoes.” (In Greek, there are actually three generations in this fictitious genealogy, which in literal translation would run something like “I am the son of Unstinting, himself the son of King Allwoes” [305]; in rendering it into English, Fitzgerald wisely prunes the family tree.)

338
Sikania:
The place sounds temptingly close to Sicily, and some ancient accounts speak of both Sikans and Sikels living on that island.

346–49
Laërtês’ grief is too great for words, and he reacts precisely as Akhilleus does when he learns of the death of Patróklos [315–317a are identical to
Iliad
XVIII.22–24a].

The mourning and displays of grief described of Biblical characters is comparably extravagant. For example, Jacob rends his clothes and dons sackcloth at the (false) report of his son Joseph’s death (Gen. 37.34; recall the comparison of Odysseus to Joseph at XIV.320–23, above). Mordecai does the same upon hearing news of the Persian king’s edict to destroy all the Jews (Esther 4.1), and upon hearing a prophecy against his city, the King of Nineveh fasts, puts on sackcloth, and sits in ashes (Jonah 3.6; reinforced by Matthew 11.21, “sackcloth and ashes” became proverbial in English). David rends his garments, fasts, and laments the deaths of Saul and Jonathan (2 Samuel 1.11ff.), and puts on sackcloth and laments the death of Abner (2 Samuel 3.31ff.). This is another instance in which the Homeric world takes its place alongside the other cultures of the ancient Near East.

361–63
Like Penélopê, Laërtês is cautious not to let emotions cloud his prudence. He too demands a sign.

365–79
The wound is exhibited again as a sign. Likewise, Eurýkleia
had hoped to persuade Penélopê by mention of the scar (XXIII.81–85). As he had to do with Penélopê, so Odysseus here offers further proof: that he possesses some bit of detailed knowledge that only he and Laërtês share.

388–90
But now the fear is in me …:
Laërtês demonstrates that he has lost nothing of his wits, thinking immediately of the problem facing Odysseus.

430–54
Odysseus’ shifting tone indicates the possibilities of stickiness in dealing with Dólios—first honeyed words (“hit an easy tone,” 432) then abruptness (“Odysseus gruffly said,” 446–48). By means of his verbal craft he manages to avoid revealing what has actually gone on in the hall any earlier than he has to. All of this makes sense if this Dólios is the same as the father of Melánthios and Melántho (see XVII.270 and XVIII.398), both of whom Odysseus knows have been executed along with the suitors. As noted on line 246, above, Penélopê had sent Dólios the orchard keeper to Laërtês in
Book IV
. Stanford speculates that “after he had come to Laertes’ farm … and had seen the old king’s pitiful condition, [he] may well have summoned his less depraved sons and stayed to help the old man. With regard to Melanthius and Melanthô, there is no reason why in life or in letters a good father should not have wicked children” (2.420 [on XXIV.222]). If Laërtês’ companion Dólios has lost two children in the slaughter, however depraved they may have been, it only increases the pathos of the pairing of these two old men, one a slave, the other a king almost sunk as low as a slave, and their children. Whether knowing their fate or ignorant of it, Dólios and his sons aid Odysseus and Laërtês when the matter comes to arms (552–53).

462–539
In its formal aspects, the assembly of the grieving kin mirrors the assembly Telémakhos summoned in
Book II
(7–272), but in tone and intent it resembles the slightly more relaxed plotting sessions of the suitors themselves (IV. 706–22 and XVI.411–95). To complete the ring, just as the poem had opened
with a council of the gods (Book I) followed by a lengthy council of Ithakans (Book II), in the final sections of
Book XXIV
we have a briefer council of Ithakans (462–520) followed by an abbreviated council of the gods (521–39). Note the reverse or chiastic order, an element of proper rings (ab … b’a’).

464–82
Eupeithês
, Antínoös’ father, takes as prominent a role in this assembly as his son was wont to in the suitors’ meetings. At lines 474–75 we have a good measure of the man’s cowardice: projecting onto Odysseus what he (or his son) would have done in a comparable situation, he imagines that Odysseus is on the verge of flight.

488–96
Medôn’s
brief but accurate testimony before the suitors’ kin not only counters Eupeithês’ speech but mirrors and corrects the lengthier, misleadingly tendentious narrative of Amphímedon (136–213).

498–510
Halithérsês
had indeed interpreted an omen for the suitors during the first Ithakan assembly, in which he prophesied Odysseus’ return (II. 166–86).

522–39
Only the gods, and in particular Zeus by his declaration of his intent to “blot out the memory / of sons and brothers slain” (536–37), can put an end to what would otherwise be an ongoing series of acts of vengeance and retribution. Heubeck sees in Zeus’ settlement “nothing less than the abolition of the law of the blood-feud, which had hitherto prevailed without qualification; in its place is established a new political order based on justice and law, and validated by the gods, in which a just and benevolent king ensures wealth and freedom” (HWH 3.412 [on XXIV.482–85]). “Is established” as an ideal, that is, in and by this poem.

570–85
It is wonderfully satisfying in this final book, the first in which we meet Laërtês face-to-face, for Athena to encourage and empower him to strike the first blow, a successful one at that.
The Odyssey
is an epic of maturity, as I’ve mentioned (see on XIX. 122–38, above), and, even if only for a moment, Grandpa
regains his former glory. Just as Odysseus had killed Antínoös first of all the suitors (XXII.8–21), Antínoös’ father, Eupeithês, is the first to die in this skirmish by the spear of the father of his son’s executioner. Such a parallel is no accident. Homer reminded his listeners that Antínoös was the first to die when his father rose to speak (466).

600–609
Odysseus is in no way frightened or abashed at Athena’s appearance and intervention. Indeed, accustomed to having her fight as his ally, he is ready to press the advantage. Only Zeus’ bolt and his will as interpreted by Athena stay Odysseus.

614
though she still kept the form and voice of Mentor:
The last line [548] repeats line 558 [503]. It seems an odd and unimportant detail. Perhaps we shouldn’t put too much weight on final things. Still, by the repetition of this formulaic verse in this spot, the last line of the poem refers to divine ventriloquism, and the last word in the Greek turns out to be “voice” [
audên
]. Athena appears in the guise and speaks in the voice of Mentor, who is an older man, not, we might imagine, unlike the bard before his audience.

WHO’S WHO IN THE ODYSSEY

BIBLIOGRAPHY: SUGGESTIONS FOR FURTHER READING

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The following list identifies virtually all of the people and places in Fitzgerald’s
Odyssey
. Names of figures who appear only once and have no significant connections with important characters are generally omitted (e.g., Laerkês, the Pylian goldsmith of III.460, or Alektor, father of Megápenthês’ bride). 1 have also omitted all of the invented names whose meanings would have been clear to Homer’s original audience and which Fitzgerald quite properly translates, names like “Tipmast,” “Tiderace,” “Hullman,” “Sternman.” The largest number of these names are those of Phaiákian sailors (VIII.118ff., whence the above examples), but also of this type are “King Allwoes,” “Quarrel-man,” and the place-name “Rover’s Passage” (XXIV.334–35). The amount of detail is not necessarily indicative of the importance of the character or place; for example, for the central characters of the epic (e.g., Odysseus, Penélopê, Telémakhos) 1 give little more than basic
genealogical information. I have striven to provide what I thought important or potentially interesting for readers of
The Odyssey
and what would best complement the information in the preceding commentary. Thus I often provide geographical identifications not made in the commentary.

I follow the translator’s spelling throughout.
¹
In cases where a cross reference would be valuable, I use the abbreviation “q.v.,” Latin for “which see.” Also, in the few cases where more than one character has the same name, I have distinguished them by number (1), (2).

Readers should keep in mind that stories about Greek gods and heroes developed over time and varied widely from place to place. Poets and mythographers attempted to adjudicate between or to harmonize inconsistent versions, the former often inventing new stories in the process, the latter aiming, considerably later, at pan-Hellenic systematization. No universally recognized canon of myth was ever established, and hence there is no “right” version of any myth. Even if such a consensus had emerged, it would be anachronistic to apply it to Homer. Hence my identifications and mythological explanations refer to the imaginary universe of
The Odyssey
and
The Iliad
. Thus Oidipous’ mother is called Epikastê, not Jocasta (as in the Sophoclean tragedy), and Elektra is not listed as one of Agamémnon’s daughters. Exceptions are clearly noted. For example, the story of Tithonos as the lover of Dawn who attained immortality without everlasting youth, is identified as dating only from the Homeric (i.e., post-Homeric)
Hymn to Aphrodite
.
This of course means only that no earlier version is extant: Homer’s silence does not prove that the story was not already in circulation and known to his audience.

Adrastê: female attendant of Helen.

Agamémnon: son of Atreus, king of Mykênai, leader of the Akhaians in
The Iliad;
husband of Klytaimnéstra, whose lover Aigísthos (Agamémnon’s own first cousin) murders him; father of Khrysothemis, Laodikê, Iphianassa (later versions call her Iphigenia), and Orestês, who avenges his father’s murder.