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. The palace shines as the sun and the moon. It is built of metals: bronze, cobalt, gold and silver. There are 'immortal' gold/silver dogs made by Hephaistos guarding the door (ll. 91-4). Going through the door unchallenged, Odysseus can see thrones along the wall 'on both sides' (l. 95). Maybe everybody is a king here? The thrones are covered in beautiful cloths spun by the Phaiakian women and there are golden statues of young men holding torches to give light to those feasting in the hall. These young men (kouroi) are described as standing on 'strong-compunded bases' (l. 101), very much like the somewhat greater than lifesize statues of young men from the Archaic period in Greece, also named kouroi by art historians. Incidentally, the word kouros went out of fashion after Homer's time ("the term occurs most frequently in Homer, and appears to be rather rare in later works", according to the Humanities website of Reed College here). Homer's kouroi are made of gold, which sounds super-expensive (bearing in mind that the marble ones weren't cheap either), they are used not as grave markers or offerings left at sanctuaries, but as household objects. (I wonder if anyone still remembers Helen's golden distaff and silver workbasket? And husband Menelaos was a proud owner of a couple of silver bathtubs - presents from friends.) The golden age of heroes was literally that. Now, Odysseus is a beggar in the hall. In this scene, he is a bit like the audience of the epic as he marvels at the fairy-tale kingdom of the Phaiakians in his hand-me-down clothes. All this weeping (Odysseus at the Court of Alkinoös by Francesco Hayez, 1814-15) I am also seeing the Odyssey now as essentially a travelogue, an island-hopping adventure sequence, where the same pattern gets repeated: hero sails to island (or is washed ashore), meets locals, they treat him well or not so well. He is trying to reach his own island, but always gets sidetracked by magic, all sort of troubles, temptation, possessive females, hostile natives, etc. Scheria, in Book 7, is a kind of paradise, so our hero is getting lucky. This is my least favourite bit, I think, but obviously an important part for Homer's audience. I find it self-indulgent and it just slows down the story. Well, I suppose the audience must be properly entertained for their money and if they want a long description of earthly paradise with a garden producing fruit without cease and a well-run kingdom, they should have it. It is interesting that there are two springs: one to water the king's garden, and one for the townspeople. This is a wealthy kingdom and the king shares what he has with his people, so the whole community thrives. (Another little hint on good leadership.) There are, we are told in l. 103, fifty serving women in the palace. They grind grain, weave cloth, some of which is used as sieve for olive oil, and besides all this, they have been endowed with wisdom and good character. There are exactly fifty of them, which is quite a lot (compared to the twelve maids Penelope has got). I am not really sure what the number symbolises, and have found very little information about it on the internet. According to Gods, Demons and Symbols of Ancient Mesopotamia: An Illustrated Dictionary (by Jeremy A. Black, Anthony Green, Tessa Rickards, University of Texas Press, 2003, p. 145): "Fifty is frequently used simply to indicate a large number. The Babylonian Epic of Creation concludes with a hymn to the Fifty Names of Marduk." However, they go on to say that "the Babylonians used a sexagesimal system of counting, multiples of sixty", in which case, the significance of fifty could be quite different. There are other interesting occurences of the number fifty in Greek mythology: the Danaids (Danaides), daughters of Danaus (who is claimed to be the ancestor of the rulers of Argos in Greece) were fifty in number, too, and so were their cousins, the sons of the mythical king of Arabia and Egypt, Aegyptus (Aigyptos). After Odysseus has taken in all the abundance the Phaiakians are blessed with, he makes his way to the palace where the feast is drawing to its close. It is evening now (l. 138), so Odysseus must have spent lunchtime, all afternoon and early evening with looking, making observations and considering the best course of action. This seems a bit excessive. Under stress, he always resorts to the same tactics: be invisible, keep a low profile, gather information and ponder. For hours and hours. Don't do anything on the spur of the moment. Be cautious. Now he has made his mind up at last. He still has Athene's mist around him (l. 140), which only disperses when he arrives at the hall. After hours of inaction, suddenly and with no warning, Odysseus lunges forward to clench the knees of the unsuspecting Queen Arete. There is no description now, no lovely golden goblets or silver platters, only Odysseus' pitiful words echoing in the hall. I wonder how he feels doing this: is it play-acting? is it calculating? does he feel humiliated doing this? is he pretty much sure that in a country where there is so much wealth AND generosity, even the wish of a beggar and a stranger will be easily granted? His trickster qualities mingle with high drama here: he is a trickster, yes, but maybe a trickster can have real feelings too. In a way, the Phaiakians are no challenge for someone with Odysseus' accomplishments. They are good people who do not seem to have any aggressive tendencies in them (remember they left their native land and moved to Scheria to be free from their bullies). Odysseus must know that in all probability people who walk away from a fight because they prefer peace and quiet will be the ones most likely to help him in his plight. But... Odysseus is not sure about anything. He is lonely, untrusting, and for him, reality (including human company) is like his raft splintered into pieces on the raging sea. His bonds to reality have disintegrated to such an extent that he walks into a dream civilisation, which he takes his time observing and does not recognise his luck. The paranoid elements remind me of a depressive state. The Phaiakians rise to the occasion, and pour a libation to Zeus 'who goes together with suppliants, whose rights are sacred' (l. 181). There is (1) a wise old man (Echeneos) who speaks first for the stranger, (2) they raise him up from the ashes (he is apparently next to the hearth), (3) the king offers him the seat of his favourite son next to him, (4) Odysseus is given water to wash his hands and is served supper (even though they were just going to turn in for the night before he arrived), (5) after pouring the libation, they drink together with him (another servant, Pontinoös, is named), (6) Alkinoös makes a speech, promising to gather all the elders together the next day to give a proper feast to the guest, after which they will think of a way of helping him to get home. It is interesting that he promises to find a way of delivering him home safe and sound, but cannot promise any protection beyond that: once he has set foot on his own country, 'he shall endure all that his destiny and the heavy Spinners / spun for him with the thread at his birth, when his mother bore him' (ll. 197-8). He then wonders if Odysseus might be one of the immportals (although the Phaiakians have a special talent for recognising gods in "wayfarers"), which Odysseus is quick to deny. He asks Alkinoös and the others to let him eat his supper, because no matter how much suffering and hardship one has endured, the belly forces him to eat and drink nevertheless. He also expresses his wish to die only after he has set eyes upon his homeland again ('when I have once more / seen my property", ll. 224-5, is his actual phrase). After everybody has taken their leave, Odysseus is left alone with King Alkinoös and Queen Arete. Arete has been curious about Odysseus' clothes, which she has recognised, so she asks her guest who he is and where he is from and 'who was it gave you this clothing' (l. 238). Recognition is a recurring motif in the Odyssey, and this is an important instance. Arete probes into the background of the mysterious stranger and she gets more than what she's bargained for. Odysseus explains that it is difficult to give an account of all his sufferings, so he cleverly chooses only the Kalypso episode, which the audience have already heard. No spoilers here! He also describes his encounter with Nausikaa, how she gave him food and wine and the clothes he is now wearing. Alkinoös says that as Odysseus first supplicated Nausikaa, she should have taken him to the palace. Odysseus takes all the blame for that, saying that he was too embarrassed and afraid Alkinoös would misunderstand seeing him together with the girl. Alkinoös replies: 'Stranger, the inward heart in my breast is not of such a kind / as to be recklessly angry. Always moderation is better' (l. 309-10). This is the Phaiakians' motto - an attitude in sharp contrast with the wrath of Achilles, the war and bloodshed of the Iliad, Odysseus' past. The king promptly offers Odysseus the hand of his daughter (while he still has no idea who Odysseus is). But, if Odysseus doesn't fancy that, Alkinoös will, as he promised, arrange for his voyage home 'even if this may be much further away than Euboia' (l. 321), which seems to be the furthest point they have ever been. Luckily, the Phaiakians can sail there and back in one day. Odysseus is happy to learn this and prays that all that Alkinoös has said may be accomplished (he asks for three things in his prayer, two things for himself [actually, it's one and the same thing but in different words] and one for his host). Odysseus is rather selfish here, I think and his wish to return home has developed into a monomania. The maidservants have been doing some overtime (when they must have been already tired after serving at the tables), setting up a bed for Odysseus on the porch and gathering all the bedding, blankets and 'fleecy robes' (l. 338) for him. So it is understandable that they address him in this manner: "Up, stranger, so you can go to rest' (l. 342).
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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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