145ff. Telémakhos is always thinking about the potential return of his father; the arrival of any guest, and this one in particular, foreshadows Odysseus’ real return. Mentes is a Taphian, a seafarer, not unlike the Kretan Odysseus will pretend to be when he does appear in Ithaka, also in disguise.
148 Honor [Timê, 117] is key to status in Homeric society. Contrast “reknown” [kleos] at 122, above.
153 Then he said warmly: Homer has Telémakhos utter aloud “winged words” [epea pteroenta, 122], a bit of traditional Homeric translationese which has itself become proverbial. Epea (“words;” singular epos) is the same as the word for the verses of epic poetry and is the root of our word for the whole genre: “epic.” The wings or feathers behind pteroenta likely refer to the feathers on arrows, which enable them to fly directly to their target.
154–55 Telémakhos is at once characterized as a direct and sincere young man, a speaker of few and unambiguous words, not the wily rhetorician his father is.
157–60 The spear rack seems a trivial detail, but already the ancient scholiasts or commentators on the poem noted with praise the way Homer prepares the scene for the final slaying of the suitors in Book XXII. It is this kind of linkage, arching over twenty-some books, which argues strongly for a unifying intelligence plotting the whole epic (even though that intelligence might have belonged to a cumulative tradition, not just one poet). On this question, see Introduction, pp. xxxii-xliii.
161–78 The elegance, wealth, and prosperity of Odysseus’ court is clear, despite the din of the intrusive suitors.
189ff. The place of singing and of bards such as Phêmios here, or Demódokos in Books VII and VIII, shows the function of Homer or any of the bards who sang The Iliad, The Odyssey, portions of them, or the cyclic poems. (On the epic cycle, see 19–21, above.) Phêmios’ name could be construed as “the man who spreads report,” “the man who is rich in tale” (West, HWH I.97 [on I.154]). It is, at a distance and via Latin, cognate with our word “fame.” Only later (377ff.) do we learn that the subject of the song is the “Homecoming [noston, 326] of the Akhaians.” Note the ironic fact that Phêmios is “compelled” to sing by the suitors (190).
189 cithern harp: This would have been a four-stringed lyre, with “a body of wood and a sound-box made of, or shaped like, a tortoise’s shell, with ox-hide stretched over the face and two curved horns rising from it, joined by a crossbar carrying the pegs, to which strings of gut were attached” (West, HWH 1.96–97).
198 Again Homer emphasizes the suitors’ leeching, their wasting of Odysseus’ (and Telémakhos’) resources. And now we know how it rankles Telémakhos.
199–207 Telémakhos believes, or says he believes, that Odysseus is dead. Clearly, he still hopes this is not true, but he pretends to have ceased hoping. It is typical of Greek and much Mediterranean culture of the time to dramatize one’s situation and, moreover, to present the worst-case scenario. There are a number of advantages to this, not least being that no one can surprise you with worse news. This is not just a mind game; to be surprised by bad news would involve loss of face.
Telémakhos’ report of his father’s death is also a sign of the disconnectedness from his father from which he suffers. Compare his avoidance of naming Odysseus (see 199, below), his acerbic remarks at 257–60 (see below), and perhaps also his blunt rebuttal (397–407) of Penélopê’s request that Phêmios sing a different song. At the risk of importing modern psychological insights, one might well describe Telémakhos as having erected a range of “defenses” to protect him from really “dealing with” his father’s absence and probable death.
199 a man: Likely for the reason just noted, Telémakhos does not mention Odysseus by name, as in the periphrases in lines 216 and 278.
206–7 and there’s no help for us in someone’s hoping / he still may come: A more literal rendering of Homer’s Greek reveals a subtle difference: “and there’s no comfort for us if any earth-dwelling humans should say he will come” [166–68]. The way Homer has Telémakhos formulate it leaves open the comfort such words from another class of being—in other words, a god or goddess such as the one sitting before him—might bring.
212 The wry “I don’t suppose you walked here on the sea,” although repeated (XIV.227; XVI.70, 266), might here be seen as an invitation for a deity to make her other-than-normal mode of transportation known.
220–29 Odysseus will himself tell lying tales such as this when he returns (XIII.327–65; XIV.229–417; XIX. 195–362; XXIV.270–346).
227 On the significance of iron in the archeology of the Homeric poems, see XV.407, below. It appears in a simile at IX.427. “Brown” is now preferred to “bright” by scholars; see above, on I.36. On the particular problem of transcultural understanding of color terminology, see IV. 146, below.
231–36 Laërtês is Odysseus’ father and Telémakhos’ grandfather. It is only after Odysseus reveals himself to Laërtês that the epic concludes. His separation from town, as Athena describes it, is odd and painful, and is yet another sign of the family’s disarray. It is one more wrong that must be set right.
240ff. Athena says it quite bluntly: Odysseus is alive and about to return. Although she couches it in the same pious optimism the real Mentes might have employed, we in the audience enjoy the irony of Athena claiming that the gods delay him (239) and then that she believes she can forecast his imminent return (244f.). The first part of the stock disclaimer (“I’m no prophet, no adept in bird-signs,” 246) is literally true, for she is a goddess. Telémakhos will miss the irony but not the intended encouragement and inspiration.
241–43 Note Athena’s bending of the truth in one particular. In her guise as Mentes she asserts that “savages … hold him captive.” R.O.A.M. Lyne calls this a “graceful falsehood that it is ‘fierce men’ not the glamorous Calypso who are detaining Odysseus on a sea-girt island. The truth might have confused the impressionable adolescent, dampening his ardour to preserve his mother against the day of his moral father’s return” (Further Voices in Vergil’s Aeneid [Oxford, 1987], 83–84; he compares Griffin, Homer, 64). Though Lynn’s version may be too prudish, that stories are tailored to one’s audience and even invented to further some greater end is central to The Odyssey.
249 he can do anything: Behind this lies another of the poly-family of epithets [polymêkhanos, 205], the third epithet in the poly-system (see 2 and 108, above).
253–55 The Kretan in Books XIV and XIX, i.e., the disguised Odysseus, will also claim to have been familiar with Odysseus.
257–60 And thoughtfully Telémakhos replied: Homer calls Telémakhos’ reply “thoughtful” or “prudent,” but “My mother says I am his son” and the misogynistic barb that no one truly knows his father seem callous. Harsh as the reply may be, it presents the issue of Penélopê’s fidelity as significant and shows clearly how much is at stake. (Indeed, in his “prudence” he is very much his mother’s son; see XIX.65 and XX.79, below.) The commonplace “Who has known his own engendering?” and the verses that follow (261–64) reveal not a hard-bitten cynic but a young man who sorely misses his father (see 199–207, above). The “proof” of paternity is not either parent’s to give; rather the son’s own actions will constitute that proof. As Telémakhos matures and performs well in a variety of contexts, reflecting his father’s abilities (see 142ff, above), he will be able to be confident that his father is Odysseus.
266–67 … no lack of honor: Homer makes clear that the speaker expects the renown of this family to continue to be revealed in the future, or, as the Greek has it, “behind us” [opissô, 222]; according to the Greeks’ conception, one faces the (known) past and backs into an unknown future. So also “for time to come” at IX.558 [511].
268 Penélopê: This is the first mention of her name in the epic. Its etymology remains uncertain. Some scholars derive it from the name of a kind of duck reputed to be faithful to her mate. Already ancient speculation linked it with weaving. For a theory that it just might mean “Weavin
g-Unraveller,” see Russo in HWH 3.81 [on XIX. 137]. Of course, that it might be so derived does not mean that it was.
271 At the expense of all: Athena states ironically that this is not “potluck” [eranos, 226], where each contributes his own portion (see IV.668ff., below).
279 But evil days the gods have brought upon it: A more literal rendering of the Greek (“But now the gods have wished otherwise, devising bad things” [234]) permits the hearer to enjoy more fully the irony of Telémakhos addressing this to Athena, for she is in the process of “devising” quite a different outcome. “Devising” is also one of Odysseus’ emblematic activities, and the verb—mêtiaô—displays its connections to mêtis (see 2, above).
280–87 Odysseus’ present fate is worse than death, both because it is not certain and because, if he is dead, he is unburied, without the honor of a tomb. (On the particular horror of death without proper burial, see III.278–79 and V.321–23, below.) Fitzgerald’s “no glory” (286) [akleiôs, 241] might be better as “without report” or “without renown” (see 122, above).
291 Doulíkhion … Same … Zakýnthos: The traditional neighboring isles to Ithaka. On the island’s geographical location, and the identity of the other islands, see Fitzgerald’s postscript (Odyssey, pp. 467–72). On the general issue of geographical accuracy, see Introduction, pp. xliii-xlv.
299 Pallas … was disturbed: In Greek, Homer sets up one of the most unusual and unusually contrived of puns between Athena’s common epithet, Pallas, and the verb [epalastêsasa … Pallas, 252].
305–12 What is the significance of this brief anecdote? Is it merely a further instance of Odysseus’ craftiness? Or is Athena subtly suggesting the use of poisoned arrows, or, on the contrary, advising against it—pious Ilos felt it would inspire divine enmity? The poisoning of weapons is nowhere else described in Homer, and later Greek commentators regarded it as a barbarous practice. Of course, the Homeric Odysseus traverses the boundaries of the civilized.
In ancient Greek literature, largely created and transmitted by and for men, the use of poisons and drugs [pharmaka] was generally attributed to women (Kirkê and Helen in The Odyssey, or the barbarous Medea).
318ff. Whether or not Odysseus is to return is uncertain (Athena/Mentes says now), so Telémakhos is advised to begin proceedings on his own.
321 the islanders: The Greek reads: “the Akhaian heroes” [272], a use of formula so out of place as to function as bitter irony. While there is a danger of overreading, such irony is not at all out of place or character for early epic. (On this question, see 93, above, and VIII.357ff., below, for a clearer example of irony.)
323 Between this line and the next the textual tradition of The Odyssey includes four lines that some scholars find spurious, which might be rendered as follows: “As for your mother—if her heart is eager to be married, let her go back to the great hall of her powerful father. They will prepare a wedding and make very many bridal gifts, so much as befits his own daughter” [275–78]. (Fitzgerald notes the excision, his translation, p. 463. My renderings tend to the literal; I would not attempt Fitzgerald’s style.) Over the centuries, many lines seem to have been added, for one reason or another, to the Homeric text, and many modern scholars agree with Fitzgerald that these have been interpolated into Mentês’ speech. They are based on the words of the suitor Eurý-makhos (II.205–7 [195–97]), but the most cogent arguments involve the contradictions they seem to present: the first words consider a possibility (Penélopê desiring remarriage) that Telémakhos seems already to have given the lie to (295), and they seem very confused about what role the various participants in this action—Penélopê, Telémakhos, Ikários—are supposed to take. In contrast, I.338, later in the speech, offers none of these problems and consequently is regarded as spurious by none. There it is clearly Telémakhos who is to take charge: it was the adult male’s responsibility to marry off his female relative, whether daughter, sister, or even mother.
It would be naive to trust the manuscript tradition overmuch, and much can be said in favor of the removal of these lines. However, they are not necessarily so impossibly contradictory as scholars have made out. In her/his implicit contradiction of Telémakhos’ assertion that Penélopê does not wish to remarry (295), Athena/Mentês may suggest that Telémakhos himself may not fully know his mother’s mind. Nor need these lines contradict line 338. Here Athena will be saying that if in fact (already now, before Telémakhos’ travels and contradictory to his expectations) Penélopê wishes to remarry, she should return to her father’s house. If she does not, she should remain; but if Telémakhos were to return after learning of his father’s death, he should have his mother remarry, the implication being whether she wants to or not.
338 and give your mother to another husband: See preceding note. The harshness of this indubitably genuine line is mitigated by the fact that we know that Athena knows that Telémakhos will not learn of his father’s death.
339–42 Athena/Mentês presents the idea that the suitors deserve death as a foregone conclusion to Telémakhos and thus to us.
344–47 Athena too presents the example of Orestês to young Telémakhos, to inspire him. While inspirational, it is a somewhat dubious precedent: (1) Telémakhos would need to face many enemies, not just one, and (2) the suitors did not kill Odysseus as Aigísthos did Agamémnon. Still, both young men are to gain fame (kleos) by way of the father: the one by revenge, the other by searching for him.
348 well set-up: In Greek, kalos [301], “beautiful,” first in body, then in spirit. Size and beauty were prized, particularly in warriors but in women as well; nor would it have been thought odd for one man to notice this or even say this about or to another man or boy.
356 like a father to his son is an apt and touching simile to come from Telémakhos’ mouth.
358ff. Telémakhos knows what is due a traveler and guest; on his own travels he receives a bath in Pylos (III.506–8) and gifts from Meneláos in Sparta (IV.629ff.). Odysseus will receive both from the Phaiákians in Book VI. And when he at last returns to his own home, albeit in beggar’s disguise, he receives a memorable bath (XIX.416ff.).
362 such as dear friends give their friends [hoia philoi xeinoi xeinoisi didousi, 313]: The same word [xeinos] later describes both host and guest in the guest-friend relationship (see VIII. 175, below). “Xenophobia” would have seemed particularly heinous to civilized Greeks, except that unstated in the Greek is the assumption that the unknown guest is a strange Greek, a Hellene of some sort, not a member of a truly foreign people. (On the giving of gifts by hosts to guests, see IV.629–33, below.)
364–67 One can almost sense Athena’s pleasure in her polite evasion; while acknowledging Telémakhos’ propriety, she slightly mocks his promise of a “precious thing” (in the Greek, she echoes his phrase [312, 318] while, with delicious understatement, she promises a gift of equal value in return—although, strictly speaking, this would have been understood to refer to a future visit by Telémakhos to Mentês).
368–73 Is line 369 a simile, or did she really reveal her godhead by flying off as a bird? Homer prefers to leave this question open but leaves his listener in no doubt that Telémakhos felt encouraged (“in his spirit [thumos] she placed strength and courage” [320–21]), that he was more than ever mindful of his father, and that somehow he knew he had been conversing with a god. (Pace Fitzgerald, there is no explicit reference to a “dream.”)
369 off and gone: Other scholars have proposed that the word anopaia [320] should be rendered “up through the smoke hole” (in the roof of the hall). But this may be overly concrete and preclude Homer’s diplomatic vagueness (see preceding note).
376–80 Song at least can silence the rowdy suitors. Only now do we learn that Phêmios, like the singer of The Odyssey, is singing of the Homecoming (nostos) of the Akhaians; indeed, he has been since I.192, Athena’s arrival, although it is not Homer’s style to insist on simultaneity of actions. “There is obvious dramatic irony in the fascinated at
tention with which the suitors listen to the tale of Athena’s vengeance, oblivious to the goddess’s actual presence” (West, HWH 1.116–17 [on I.325–27]). Homer does not focus on the suitors’ reaction to the topic (although “bitter” or “mournful” [lugros, 327] applied to it is proleptic in their case) but rather follows the sound upward to reach Penélopê. A masterful transition, and subtle motivation: the word and idea of nostos, and even more the pain it provokes, draw her to the hall.
379 careful Penélopê: Homer’s epithet is periphrôn, “careful” in the sense of “mindful,” “prudent,” though no doubt her mind was full of “cares” as well. In the extant remains of early epic, this epithet is applied only to women, and Homer uses it often of Penélopê (see XIX.65, below).
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