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).
His fellow contestants urge him to go and ask. In his short speech to Odysseus, Laodamas reveals some interesting information about what sort of role contests play in this culture. He basically says two things: (1) contests are for your glory, so if you want to make your mark, go and compete, (2) contests will console people (cf. funerary games in the Iliad). He actually says 'there is no greater glory that can befall a man living / than what he achieves by speed of his feet or strength of his hands' (ll. 147-8). In this post-Trojan War world, the glory is no longer in the battlefield, but in 'games'. It is striking that he addresses a Trojan hero with these words. The world has become smaller, much less ambitious, and maybe a little bit too sedate and peaceful compared to the Iliad. It is interesting that there have been quite a few young men we have come across in the story so far living in the shadow of hero fathers (Telemachos; Peisistratos, Nestor's son in Book 3; and now King Alkinoös' sons and their friends). The Odyssey seems to sympathise with their predicament. This reflects, perhaps, how Homer's audience felt towards the heroes of their mythical past, identifying with the sons who got left behind to toil after the battles had been fought by their elders. In this respect, I suggest, Scheria functions in the epic as a meeting place where the mythical-heroic past and the ordinary (albeit idealistically presented) world intersect. Our attention is drawn to this by a striking role reversal: the beggar is really a great Trojan hero, and the Phaiakians, comfortable in their mediocre existence, live their sleepy lives competing at games. Still, at least they have a home. Moderation has its rewards. Culturally, however, this message did not seem to have taken root. Competitiveness and striving for excellence was a huge driving force for the Ancient Greeks, and the positive portrayal of the Phaiakians' sedate lifestyle served perhaps as a challenge to received ideas. Perhaps it was offered as a rumination on an alternative order of things. Or, perhaps, I'm reading too much into this and running wild with the idea. Nevertheless, the tension between competitiveness and moderation in Ancient Greek culture was a real one. Although Demosthenes writes that "[...] let it be your ambition to be first in everything. To aim at this target brings more credit than respectable mediocrity" (On Love, 61.52; quoted in The World of Athens, 2nd edition, CUP, 2009, p. 141), the authors of The World of Athens say that the Ancient Greeks were aware of the destructive side of competitiveness, which both Homer and the tragic poets explored (pp. 141-2). Contests and games were actually a way of 'channelling' all this bursting energy 'into less harmful outlets'. Non-competitive values, e.g. sōphrosynē ('moderation, sensibility', also a goddess) were highly regarded, as attested by a famous inscription over the entrance to the temple of Apollo at Delphi: 'nothing in excess' (mēden agān). But how competition brings consolation to the soul wearied of life is still a bit unclear, and the idea that he should join in makes Odysseus impatient. He has no time for games. After being insulted by a certain Euryalos (who calls him a 'stranger', l. 159, and a 'man of business', l. 162), Odysseus retorts angrily, but magnanimously addresses Euryalos as 'friend' (l. 165). There follows a mini-sermon on looks (physical strength) v. inner qualities (especially the gift of eloquence). Having said that, he claims he is better than anyone at almost everything except perhaps running. To demonstrate this, he throws a discus and the people look at him in stunned silence (of course the discus, whose landing position is verified by Athene in the guise of 'a man', flew way past everybody else's). He challenges the Phaiakians (apart from Laodamas, as no guest should compete with his hosts) to pass his mark. During his speech, he (inadvertently?) mentions that he has gained experience in martial arts 'in the Trojan country' (l. 220). He also advises against pride and challenging the immortals, as some foolishly did in the past (e.g. Eurytos, who challenged Apollo in archery and was struck by the god for his cheek, ll. 227-8). His tirade is cut short by soft-spoken King Alkinoös, who suggests some light entertainment in the form of singing and dancing and sends the herald to get the bard Demodokos' lyre. This clears the air. (I think the word 'herald' really stands for a type of servant that gets sent to fetch things.) Demodokos, always choosing just the right song for the occasion, breaks the ice with the comic story of how Hephaistos manages to trap his wife, Aphrodite and Ares, her lover in a net specially designed by him for the purpose. Then he summons all the gods (the goddesses stay at home out of modesty, l. 324) to bear witness to the disgrace done to him, and demands that Ares pay him 'adulterer's damage' (l. 332). The gods can't help bursting into laughter at poor Hepahistos, who also wants the bride-price back. In the end, he is promised to get what he wants with Poseidon acting as guarantor for Ares, and Aphrodite goes to Paphos to be bathed, anointed and dressed by the Kharites as usual. Some speculate that this story is inserted for a reason (what is comical in the lives of the Olympians, is actually quite a serious matter for humans, an important theme in the Iliad). Here, it has been suggested, it is connected to the homecoming of Agamemnon (also with a cheating wife) and what Odyssues cannot be sure of: whether Penelope has been faithful to him (A. F. Garvie (ed.) Homer: Odyssey Books VI-VIII, CUP, 2003, p. 294). Then two of the princes, Halios and Laodamas perform a dance, which involves throwing a red ball. One of them bends back and throws the ball upward, while the other leaps up to catch it and thumps back heavily on the ground. According to Anne Amory Parry, in Book 6.100, where Nausikaa and her maids are described as playing with a ball, they are, in fact, dancing in the same manner as her brothers here in 8.370-80 (Blameless Aegisthus: A Study of Amumōn and Other Homeric Epithets, E. J. Brill, 1973, p. 104). I am rather intrigued by this ball dance and its possible ritualistic nature; however, I've been unable to dig up anything on it. The movements upward to the sky and then the loud thump onto the ground suggests trying to connect heaven and earth or symbolising such a connection (a rainmaking ritual?). The dance creates such a good atmosphere that Odysseus goes as far as complimenting the Phaiakians on their dancing, and King Alkinoös, in turn, asks all the twelve kings (he is the thirteenth among them) to give the guest lavish gifts, and admonishes Euryalos, who is told to apologise (so Euryalos is a king?). Odysseus and Euryalos make it up (he presents Odysseus with a bronze sword with a silver handle, l. 403-4). Meanwhile, the poor heralds arrive carrying all the gifts, including thirteen talents of gold (l. 393). Queen Arete packs everything up neatly in a big chest and advises Odysseus to tie a knot over it to prevent the contents being stolen while he is asleep on the ship (ll. 442-3). Odysseus' face lits up - what a good idea. Then his bathwater is ready, and Odysseus likes his creature comforts! (I think Odysseus gets quite a civilisation overload here - he has been washed ashore here totally naked, a non-entity really, and now he has been washed, clothed, fed and watered, challenged to prove himself and is now being reinstated as a gentleman among gentlemen. He is also being given a fortune. There is even that little scene of saying goodbye to Nausikaa, who is standing by the pillar and admiring the hero 'with all her eyes', l. 459). Next, back in the hall, Odysseus bribes the singer Demodokos with a juicy piece of meat to sing of the Trojan horse, 'the stratagem great Odysseus filled with men and brought it / to the upper city, and it was these men who sacked Ilion' (ll. 494-5), in his own words. In flowery language, he offers his appreciation of Demodokos' rendering of the previous song concerning the Trojan War that he performed before the sporting events. If Demodokos can pull this off as beautifully as the other one, Odysseus will spread the word about him. The Trojan horse episode has already been recounted by Helen in Book 4, but now we shall be treated to the official / heroic version. This version tells of the different options the Trojans considered relating to the wooden horse, e.g. to 'drag it to the cliff's edge and topple it over' (l. 507). But in the end, they decide to dedicate it to the gods, and they pay a high price for their piety. The singer describes the massacre that follows in the house of Deïphobos, where Odysseus 'wins' the fight. At this point, Odysseus, listening to the song, 'melts' and can't contain his tears any more. In the run-on simile in ll. 522-30, he is likened to a (Trojan) woman! In this surprising change of perspective, Odysseus is described as a woman in a besieged city, crying over the dead body of her husband as the enemy ravages on and 'hitting her with their spear butts [...] [to] force her up', they carry her off to slavery. Demodokos is surely an inspired singer to be able to do this. The simile, I think, also draws our attention to a private sorrow, which cannot be shared; the Phaiakians, although by no means hostile, can't appreciate what Odysseus has gone through. They are happy outsiders. King Alkinoös, ever the tactful host, asks Demodokos to stop singing. It is time for Odysseus to reveal his identity and tell the Phaiakians the story of his life.
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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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