‘From there, grieving still at heart, we sailed on further It is rather difficult to like the Cyclopes. But what is the main problem with them? In answer to this question, we can say that Polyphemos is hostile and eats people for supper. While this is not endearing, we must add that he did not go out of his way to attack Odysseus and his companions; he was just living on his island, minding his own business, and when uninvited visitors turned up on his doorstep... well, he just wasn't interested to hear their story (he does ask the obligatory question, though, ll. 252-5). Polyphemos, however, is not simply a monster: he is a shepherd and a producer of fine cheese. So is he a boorish giant who doesn't like the smell of humans or a sophisticated artisan cheesemaker living an isolated but idyllic existence?
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I could have mentioned this earlier but somehow it slipped my mind: the Ancient Egyptian Tale of The Shipwrecked Sailor (c. 2000 BC, predating the Odyssey by about 1200 years) contains some important elements of the Odyssey. A sailor, having suffered a shipwreck and having lost all of his companions, is washed ashore on an island, in a 'thicket', just like Odysseus on Scheria. Eventually, he manages to return home and tells his story to his 'master'. According to his tale, the island was full of riches and exotic things (perfumes, ivory and baboons, to mention but a few), but there was also a huge speaking serpent on this island, which was a bit scary. The serpent dragged the sailor to his lair, but otherwise treated him very politely. He promised the sailor that he would be rescued in four months' time, so no need to worry. To kill time until then, the serpent suggested having a conversation. After telling the sailor about his serpent family living on the island with him (seventy-five of them altogether, brothers and children), he reassured him: "[I]f your heart waits patiently, you shall press your infants to your bosom and embrace your wife again. You shall return to your house which is full of all good things. You shall see your land, where you shall dwell in the midst of your kindred". The story ended happily as the sailor was indeed rescued and was given many gifts by the serpent. At the end, there is a hint that his adventure has made the sailor a wiser man. In Book 9, things will not go this smoothly. There will be an island, a monster of some sort and a lair, but instead of many gifts, a near escape for Odysseus and his men. Also, this bit will be full of violence. Similarly to the Shipwrecked Sailor, Odysseus tells his own tale and starts by revealing his name (in contrast to the Egyptian story, where there are no names mentioned): "I am Odysseus son of Laertes, known before all men / for the study of crafty designs, and my fame goes up to the heavens" (ll. 19-20). This is important as the theme of identity will come up in Odysseus' own tale when he 'introduces' himself to the cyclops Polyphemos.
The Phaiakian people are assembled and the feast begins. King Alkinoös sacrifices 12 sheep, 8 pigs ('with shining tusks', l. 60, wild pigs?) and 2 'drag-footed' oxen (eilipodas, "having a rolling gait", epithet of oxen and sometimes women, according to LSJ on Perseus). Among those invited are 'sceptered kings' (l. 41), 'leaders of the Phaiakians and men of counsel' (l. 26) and 52 specially selected young men, 'who have been the finest' (l. 36). The young men are to serve as oarsmen on the ship that will take Odysseus home. The guest of honour, 'Odysseus sacker of cities' (l. 3) is a beggar, who has come from east or west, nobody knows (l. 29). The night's entertainment will be provided by Demodokos, 'the inspired singer' (l. 43). No-one is allowed to excuse themselves. It's interetsing that the epithet 'sacker of cities' comes up in the third line of Book 8. In this idyllic place suddenly the trample of horses can be heard in the distance. Battle cries. Swords clinking. Blood and dust. Demodokos, who is blind but moved by the spirit, chooses to sing of the Trojan War. He sings of 'quarrelling', 'words of violence' and how 'the lord of men, Agamemnon / was happy in his heart' because, according to a prophecy, this would mean that 'now the beginning of evil rolled on' (ll. 75-82). I think there is a little bit too much of 'evil' attached to what was, after all, a story of great heroes. Especially that bit about Agamemnon with a vicious smile on his face. The song makes Odysseus weep (what kind of tears are these? of regret? nostalgia?), which he tries to hide behind his (well, not his really) mantle, but it doesn't escape Alkinoös' notice. To save him from embarrassment, the king announces that now they are going to have contests, so that the stranger, when he gets home, can tell his people how great the Phaiakians are at 'boxing, wrestling, leaping' and 'running' (l. 103).
Odysseus by the Sea (Arnold Böcklin, 1869) We know that Odysseus is an unhappy man, but at this point in the story we are still in the dark as to how unhappy he really is. There have been huge hints and one very unpleasant sea storm, and of course we are aware of the odious suitors back home - but then again, he doesn't know about them. Odysseus actually utters this sentence about himself in Book 7, which seems to sum up his life experience and his identity: 'I am an unhappy stranger' (xeinos talapeirios, l. 24). After being washed up on the shore, he is now wearing somebody else's clothes. Still, Athene assures him that there is no humiliation in being a stranger and a beggar: 'The bold man proves the better for every action / in the end, even though he be a stranger coming from elsewhere' (ll. 51-2). Clearly this is the lowest point, and Athene again sounds like Odysseus' own cautious and mistrustul voice in the head when she advises Odysseus not to look anyone in the eye while approaching the king's palace. Exit Nausikaa - she enters her rooms, where her old nurse, Eurymedousa of Apeire (another servant figure in the Odyssey mentioned by name) lights a fire for her. But will there be a comforting fire for Odysseus? Athene makes Odysseus invisble just to be on the safe side (there is a rather over-cautious streak in Athene), because she doesn't want passers-by to "sneer" at him. Odysseus admires the beautiful city and well-built walls of the Phaiakians, the public squares, the ships and the harbours. Athene prepares him for the royal audience: she gives him a brief history (meaning: genealogy) of the Phaiakian royal house (they are, interestingly, the descendants of Poseidon, but it's probably only because they are skilled seafarers). King Alkinoös has married his own niece, apparently, and Queen Arete (Aretē) is widely respected - so much, in fact, that Athene suggests Odysseus should supplicate her first. After the pep talk, Athene goes to Athens, to the house of Erechtheus (ll. 80-1). There follows a detailed description of the palace Odysseus is entering, which is really a description of Phaiakian "civilization". As we shall see, Scheria is a very special place.
We are in Scheria, where the Phaiakians live. The book starts with a brief history of the Phaiakians, who seem to be peace-loving people. They used to live "near the Cyclopes" in a different place called Hypereia, but because of their "overbearing" neighbours, were forced to migrate to Scheria, "far away from men who eat bread" (l. 8). This last bit may be a device to introduce any kind of unbelievable element to the story, e.g. "it all happend in a far away place, where people have three ears". I'm not sure how much ink has been spilled over the next passage on settling down in a new land (ll.6-10), but I guess everybody who is anybody in Homeric studies has felt obliged to comment. As I have come to Homer with no or very little previous knowledge (mainly based on the Odyssey Study Guide in "Resources" in the blog sidebar), the only thing I can say is that everything seems to have been well-organised. The story continues in the bedchamber of the Phaiakian princess, Nausikaa, where Athene finds her asleep with her two handmaidens. All three of them have been endowed with beauty by the Graces (Kharites), with Nausikaa especially looking like an immortal goddess. She is the daughter of the Phaiakian king, Alkinoös (not to be confused with Antinoös) so it's no surprise that her surroundings are also very pretty ("ornate chamber", l. 15, thalamos polydaidalos in Greek, the adjective polydaidalos meaning high-skilled [workmanship], esp. connected to metal working; Homer is obsessed with metal!). Now Athene's idea this time is to persuade Nausikaa, posing as her best friend, to go on a washing trip. Her argument is that as Nausikaa is soon to be married (although the lucky man hasn't been picked yet), she should make a point of wearing clean clothes (!). She hastens to add it's not because there is any shortage of suitors, though. It turns out there is quite a bit of washing to be done - to be carried by mules and wagon to the washing place, which is some distance away. Nausikaa, being a princess, has to think of the attire of her attendants as well.
Odysseus makes a raft with Kalypso handing him the tools and the material. At the same time, it is made clear that Odysseus is the one to make it: he has both the mental skills to design it and the craftsmanship to build it. I think Kalypso is needed to explain where Odysseus got some of the things from, e.g. the cloth to make the sail. I'm sure many people have written pages about Odysseus' raft-making skills, and there must be similar episodes in other epics, but I find it difficult to comment further. On the other hand, in an oral culture these things may be important to include (although it is more poetry than instruction manual, I think). Kalypso gives some parting gifts to Odysseus: clothing, wine and water and a bag full of food. I wonder how all this (not the clothes though, as Odysseus is wearing them - but they will be a problem too a bit later) can stay on the raft. Even if you tie them to the beams, won't the food get soaked, the skins bashed about and burst? It's well-meaning, I'm sure, but Kalypso is not a very practical woman. She lives in her own little world on her own little island with her own little toys. Minus one from now on.
This book begins with Dawn (Ēōs) and her deified mortal consort, Tithonos, who is mentioned in passing. The next thing we know, there is another council of the gods, where Athene is discussing her favourite topic, Odysseus. She describes Odysseus as a good king, and reproaches the gods for not looking after nice people properly - this will encourage others to misbehave (ll. 8-12), and it is also unfair. "What are you on about, we've discussed this before" says Zeus, and he has a point. The only "new" information here is the plot to kill Telemachos (and even that is not new to us). I have a suspicion that in Homer there is a lot of talk just for the sake of it (cf. heroes in the Iliad, who tell their opponents stories before taking them on in the guise of "introducing" themselves), and this particular scene is included to take us back where we left off in Book 1. "Previously on the Odyssey..."
Menelaos finishes his nostos tale. Having sailed back to Egypt, he sacrificed a hecatomb, and when he "had ended the anger of the gods" (l. 583), he "piled a mound for Agamemnon, so that his memory / might never die". That is an interesting concept - a kind of memorial in the absence of an actual burial site or tomb. Agamemnon, however, had not died at sea, and even though he was brutally murdered, he surely must have a grave somewhere in Argos. (In Aeschylus' play Agamemnon, performed 456 BC, his daughter Electra visits the grave. I'm not sure whether he was buried with the proper funeral rites though.) Menelaos then offers Telemachos, among other things, a "fine (golden?) goblet" as parting gift; whenever Telemachos uses it in future, he will remember Menelaos (ll. 591-92). Telemachos refuses the (other?) gifts, the chariot and three horses: Ithaka and the other islands have no plains, where the horses could graze; they are "all sea slopes" (l. 608), "a place to feed goats" (l. 606). Is this a way of favourably comparing your host's land to yours? Is it a practical consideration? Is it wise to turn down presents? Menelaos is not offended, he accepts Telemachos' arguments and offers him some other stuff: a mixing bowl made by the god Hephaistos. He mentions that it is a gift from another guest-friend of his, which he is now passing on to Telemachos. Is it OK to do this? Is it supposed to make it more valuable? On the othe hand, Telemachos has nothing to do with Phaidimos, the Sidonians' king. Isn't it strange to offer the token of another guest-friendship to a third person?
In the next few lines, Menelaos turns to his other guest, Peisistratos, and takes the opportunity to praise his brother Antilochos, killed in Troy, his father, Nestor, Peisistratos himself and their whole bloodline really. Is it just Homer reminding us that we are dealing with heroes, or was it the thing to do on these occasions? I think it must be the former, it would be too embarrassing for the guests. Or I'm out of touch with Mediterranean culture maybe. Or, as I suspected earlier in Book 3, it is part of social bonding, reinforcing ties, reminding each other that you are connected through all these people (cf. Menelaos' frequent allusions to the young men's fathers, although he isn't supposed to know first who they are). We know from the Iliad (and A Brief History of Ancient Greece, p. 55, second paragraph from the top) that guest-friendships were hereditary, which may be a good reason for Menelaos to mention the family tree. Oral cultures seem to be obsessed with genealogies, who is related to whom, and basically keeping in mind all your family members, dead or living. Also, where you come from is your identity in Homer's world, who your father is tells people who you are. If your father is Nestor, who is very wise, you must be wise too.
This book is much longer than the ones before (847 lines compared to between 434-497), so I'm going to break it down into smaller bits. Telemachos and Peisistratos arrive in Lakedaimon, and knock on Menelaos' door. There is a double wedding being celebrated in the palace between illustrious and royal partners. The palace itself is truly magnificent, glittering with bronze, amber, gold, silver and ivory (the spoils from Troy plus generous gifts from kind friends, as we learn later) but there is a subtle hint at all not being well. The henchman of Menelaos, Eteoneus (I like the way the Odyssey gives names even to minor characters and servants) catches sight of the strangers at the door, but instead of welcoming them, thinks it wise to check with his boss first. His wariness of strangers goes against the Homeric ethic, and Menelaos is quick to retort. His reply reflects the old values and the principle of reciprocity (cf. in Book 1, Athene-Mentes promises Telemachos to give him a gift in exchange for the one she has been given by him when he returns the visit). Next, when Telemachos and Peisistratos are eventually invited to join the celebration, Homer indulges in yet another description of a royal feast. There is (obviously) an 'inspired singer' (l. 17) and some acrobats to entertain the guests. All this sounds great, but it feels a bit different after the scene with Eteoneus whispering to Menelaos. Why was Eteoneus so distrustful of strangers? What has happened here? From the outside, everything is as it should be: a king giving a feast in his big palace, which is full of treasure, and everybody's having a good time.
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AuthorHave studied A219 Exploring the Classical World and A275 Reading Classical Greek at the Open University. Currently studying for a Psychology degree. ImagesPlease click on any image to be taken to its source.
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