513–19 A man in a distant field …: The book’s conclusion is simple and quiet, but the simplicity of the effect should not take away our appreciation of the poet’s craft. The simile of the “spark” (described metaphorically in the Greek as “the seed of fire” [sperma puros, 490]) evokes a civilized man almost beyond the edge of civilization; he has no neighbors and must rely on his cunning to preserve his fire. Just so Odysseus buries himself in the leaves to preserve his “spark of life.” Then Athena enters to pour sleep on the suffering Odysseus. She, too, is hiding Odysseus to preserve him. That the action of the mortal is nested within that of the goddess is suggested by the echo and extension of “hid himself” (516 [kalupsato, 491]). The last word of the book, which refers to Athena, is built on the same root [“covering round,” amphikalupsas, 493 (translated as “she sealed,” 519)]. The more distant echo of a major character in this book, Kalypso—which sounds here at the end to mark the distance Odysseus has come—suggests that Athena is a better and more productive “hider” than the Ogýgian nymph. Perhaps more significant is the foreshadowing of books to come: at many junctures, but none more crucial than after his return to Ithaka, Odysseus will have to hide himself, with Athena’s help, to preserve his “seed of fire.”
BOOK VI
The Princess at the River
5–8 In days gone by, these men …: These lines at once establish the Phaiákians as peace-loving people and the Kyklopês as brutes. The Phaiákians will thus understand Odysseus very well when he tells them about his experiences in the land of the Kyklopês.
10 a New World across the sea: The Greek “far from toiling men” [8] sounds less prophetic of Columbus and the “discovery” of America. The eighth and subsequent centuries, however, were for Greece, like the fifteenth and subsequent centuries for Europe, times of intense colonization, expanding commerce, and war.
11 Skhería Island: Although it has almost always been taken to be an island—the fourth-century B.C.E. historian Thucydides was not the first to identify it with Corfu (History of the Peloponnesian War, I.25)—and much in Homer strongly suggests this, it must be admitted that at no point does Homer actually say Skhería is an island. Granted, it is far off in (or across) the sea (218), and the city itself has harborage on two sides (280–81). In contrast, Homer is utterly unambiguous when describing Ithaka and the islands near it. There is as little reason to get exercised about this as about the location of Skhería: we have entered again the realm of fantastic geography.
28–29 Athena always chooses to appear in the form of someone who would be likely to speak to the dreamer. Here, she is a close friend the same age as Nausikaa, for whom it would be quite natural to bring up the topic of marriage.
33 put thy minstrelsy in wedding dress: In other words, Nausikaa must provide clothes for the male retinue who would escort her home. An ancient scholiast took this as a clever move on Athena’s part to guarantee that Nausikaa took men’s clothes as well as her own garments to the river; this may be supersubtle, but, on the other hand, we underestimate Homer only at our peril.
36 Would the image of the princess going to the river to do her own washing have seemed fantastic to Homer’s audience? To us it seems one of the more naive and charming points of the story, but we must be careful: although Homer’s audience may have found it charming, it would have been in different terms. First of all, audiences of folktales know by the rules of the game not to focus on realism or even plausibility at all points in the story; things are “just so” and not otherwise. Furthermore, the Phaiákians inhabit a peaceful land and embody a well-nigh ideal situation. The ancient Greek ideal was not unstructured ease represented in folklore and ballad as the “Rock Candy Mountain” or, earlier, the “Land of Cockaigne.” The dangers of such luxury are represented by the Lotos Eaters (Book IX, below). Rather, while the Phaiákians need not work terribly hard to have plenty, they work nonetheless. And, particularly in the eyes of Greek men, the ideal Greek woman would work at certain tasks: weaving first and foremost and running the house, including supervising all the female (and in some cases some of the male) servants. A good example comes just a few lines further on, when we first see Nausikaa’s mother, Arête (57–59). That Nausikaa would be concerned with washing her clothes is a sign that she is likely to be a good wife, in accordance with the cultural codes of ancient Greek society. Of course, multiple maids—who walk behind the cart while she rides—at the very least assist her with the actual work and may, in fact, do it all themselves.
47–53 Olympos is a mountain, and nothing here contradicts this conception. Yet here and elsewhere in Homer, we see the beginning of its development into a heavenly place.
63 Papà: The Greek is Pappa [57]—the names for mother and father seem astonishingly close within the Indo-European family of languages, even after millennia of diffusion and development. It is particularly hard to know the exact nuance of such familiar forms; the Greek may well be as familiar as “Daddy,” which I personally prefer. Still, if “Papà” seems a bit stiff, at least today, it may nonetheless be right: Nausikaa is, after all, a princess speaking in an epic poem and in perfect control of what she says.
65ff. Nausikaa speaks of doing the household washing and says nothing about her trousseau. But lest we think she is just being cunning, Homer (73–74) tells us that she was too embarrassed to mention her marriage. Her father knows, though, either because he saw a blush (an inference on Fitzgerald’s part, quite possible but unstated in Homer [66]) or simply because he is wise.
91 princess, maids: Homer is even more clear that Nausikaa is “not alone” [84], her maids present not only as helpers but as guarantors of propriety.
93 with water all year flowing: In dry climates like those around the Mediterranean basin, all but the larger rivers dry up in summer, and those that flow are often just dirty trickles. The perennial abundance and clarity (“limpid,” 94) of this river is thus remarkable—another admirable feature of Skhería.
102 sea: They have come to the mouth of the river, as the story demands. So vivid, detailed, and engaging is the story of Nausikaa’s washing expedition that we may well forget for a time that Athena had more than dirty clothes on her mind when she motivated this excursion. The sea is the first reminder of Odysseus and Athena’s higher purpose in roughly eighty lines.
110–18 The comparison of Nausikaa amid her maids to Artemis running with her nymphs, the princess and goddess each more impressive than her companions, serves both to conclude a charming episode and to elevate it at its conclusion.
115 Lêto: Artemis’ mother delights to see Artemis’ superiority. In the immediate context of the simile, it is not the absent Arête, Nausikaa’s mother, who corresponds to Lêto, but rather the hidden Odysseus, who will soon be awakened to observe the princess and her friends (122ff.)
118 princess: Homer rounds out the line with “unwedded maiden” [109], emphasizing her unmarried state rather than her royal status.
130–31 Any traveler might wonder about the people into whose land he has come, but we will discover when Odysseus narrates the earlier stages of his journey why he in particular would think of “savages …, strangers to courtesy.” The appearance in this context of the Homeric compound “guest-loving” [philoxenoi, 121, almost the exact opposite of the modern English “xenophobic”] reflects the fact that hospitality was not only a courtesy but a pious duty enjoined by the gods, Zeus first and foremost (Fitzgerald uses “gentle folk”). One of the epithets of Zeus is “protector of guests” [Xenios], as Odysseus reminds the Kyklops in vain (IX.292–93 [271]; on the epithet, Xenios or Xeinios, depending on the metrical slot in which it appears, see III.377, above, and XIV. 189–90, below). And even sooner, in the narrative economy of The Odyssey, Nausikaa formulates this principle quite clearly (221–22).
132–35 That was a lusty cry …: It is a nice touch to have Odysseus wonder to himself whether he is hearing the cries of mountain nymphs or mortal girls, given the recent Artemis simile. It seems as
if here Homer is playing with the division between the two worlds, one of the narrated reality, the other of the simile, a division usually strictly respected. (See also 161–65, below.)
137–39 Odysseus is once again shown to be infinitely resourceful and ever mindful of the perspectives of others, the latter perhaps the key to his famous rhetorical skills (see 155–59). Some have found Odysseus’ care to cover his nakedness inconsistent with the fact that Nestor’s youngest daughter gave a bath to Telémakhos (III.506–8); however, the bathing of an honored guest whose identity is known, in one’s family home and likely in the presence of servants, is a highly structured situation and nothing like the eruption from the bushes of a grimy, unknown man toward a group of girls far from home. As it is, all but Nausikaa flee in fright (149–50). The fact that their menfolk are far away is apparently of no concern in itself, because once she is convinced that Odysseus means her no harm Nausikaa orders her maids to bathe him on the spot (223–24), but neither the maids (230) nor Odysseus himself (232–36) is willing to permit this.
140–51 The branch of course does little to clothe him (“in his rough skin,” 145 [gumnos per eôn, 136]); it is more important as a sign or token that his intents are not evil and that he is a civilized man. Everything else about his appearance belies this, and Homer effectively shows us how terrifying he looked, first with the simile of the lion (140–44; note another simile in the mountains) and then by direct description of his desperate state (145–48). Their world and their minds are brilliantly and economically caught in the epithet, however traditional, “with pretty braids” [eüpbkamoisin, 135, and again at 198 (although Fitzgerald eliminates it from the latter, his line 212)].
151 a bold heart: Homer sent Athena to Olympos (47–53); here her name stands for the sort of inner confidence or self-possession the goddess often inspires when present in those she would aid (see V.456–57, above).
152–59 Before having Odysseus speak or act, Homer shows him strategizing, resembling in no way the ravenous lion driven by hunger to which he has just been compared. The main question is this: should he grasp her knees in the formal gesture of supplication or rely on “honeyed speech” (155)? Lest the gesture be considered too forward and thus anger his potential benefactor, he will employ words alone.
161–64 Odysseus’ first words are truly “honeyed” and highly complimentary. One might take his professed uncertainty whether he is addressing a goddess or a mortal as a continuation of his thoughts (132–35) and of the earlier simile (110ff.), and, indeed, Homer clearly wants us to recall that simile when he has Odysseus refer to Artemis and her devotees (163–64). But considering the introduction to this speech, in particular the double reference to “honeyed words” [143 and 146], Homer also wants us to be aware that, however large or small the doubt in Odysseus’ mind as to the mortal status of his interlocutor, his words are carefully calculated.
161 Mistress (w)anassa [149]: The feminine form of (w)anax (see I.448, above) is used only for goddesses, and in Homer, apart from this speech, only for Artemis and Athena.
please: Odysseus says literally, “I kneel to grasp your knees,” [gounomai, 149] while not doing so, thus meaning “I beg you by your knees,” the gesture that indicates he is begging for the sacred status of suppliant (see 207, below).
163–4 Another advantage of Odysseus’ rhetorical strategy is that in praising Nausikaa’s beauty as that of a goddess, he can compliment her without seeming too forward. The first aim of rhetoric is for the speaker to win the audience’s goodwill or benevolence (Latin captatio benevolentiae). This became a rule in rhetorical handbooks (see also XIV. 229–417, below). But ancient rhetoricians noted that even though Homer wrote long before the systematization of rhetoric, he and his characters “naturally” observed and exemplified its aims. Odysseus became and remained through the ages the master rhetorician, a reputation that can be valued positively and negatively, depending on an age’s attitude to rhetoric and verbal craft.
165–69 When he considers Nausikaa as a human, it is in the context of her family: father, mother, brothers. He wishes to emphasize his appreciation of civilized social structures, as well as to lay the groundwork for his request to be introduced to her family: he knows that if he is to receive hospitality and other assistance, it will have to come from the head of whatever household she belongs to.
170–71 It is here that Odysseus seems most forward and runs the greatest risk in his praise. But he is likely to know, as well as her father did, what is on a maiden’s mind. In fact, it was only through marriage that a girl in ancient Greece (and in many other times and places) could take her place as an adult in society.
171 prevails: In the Greek the successful suitor “prevails” through his bridal gifts [159], again a token that the man before Nausikaa understands and appreciates the fine points of social organization. She might just think, and Odysseus might mean for her to think, that he is of better stock than he appears to be.
174ff. Odysseus subtly and somewhat artificially shifts ground to speak of himself. Casually and in short order, he presents himself as a man who has visited the shrine to Apollo at Delos, the center of his cult (175), and a military commander (176) who has suffered misfortune (177).
180–81 I stand in awe so great: Through his words Odysseus can, as it were, both take her knees and not take her knees: by saying he is fearful to carry out the formal gesture of supplication, he conveys the intent of the act while observing the punctilious propriety he has calculated to be wisest under the present circumstances.
194–99 Again Odysseus alludes to the marriage theme in such a way as to emphasize proper social relations. The “harmony” or “agreement” of man and wife [Greek homophrosunên, 181, homophroneonte, 183] is an important theme in The Odyssey, which is as much an exploration of the “harmony” between Penélopê and Odysseus as it is a story of Odysseus’ travels (see Introduction, p. vii, and Books XIII.509, XIX. 158–60, and XXIII.69–73, 187, and 189, below). It would not be wrong to imagine that Penélopê is on his mind as he speaks these words to Nausikaa. (Of Odysseus’ longing for home and his wife Book V gave ample testimony.)
198–99 Woe to their enemies, / joy to their friends is the standard morality of ancient Greece and many other cultures, ancient and modern. It is characteristic of what is often called a “shame culture” as opposed to a “guilt culture.” It is against the backdrop of this morality that Sokrates’ argument that it is better to suffer evil than to do it seemed so paradoxical—or later, that the idea of praying for and loving one’s enemies seemed so revolutionary.
199 But all this they know best: This appears to be a puzzling and weak ending to Odysseus’ speech, but that may be the point. By this argument, he provides Nausikaa an opportunity to help him, and a rousing and highly impressive ending to his speech would work against the picture of weakness and lack of self-sufficiency he wishes to project. Hainsworth’s “they themselves are in high repute” would give the speech a more standard and easily understood conclusion (HWH 1.305 [on VI. 184–85]).
207 comfort due to a poor man in distress: In Greek Nausikaa acknowledges that he is due special treatment by using the technical term for suppliant [hiketên, 193].
216 Piracy and brigandage were common throughout the Mediterranean, and coastal communities as well as merchant ships were at risk.
221–22 from Zeus: That is, they are under his protection (see 130–31, above). Understand “a small gift” as “a gift, however small.”
234–36 Odysseus’ sense of shame may be as much or more the result of a consciousness of his filthy and poor condition than of embarrassment about being seen naked by servant girls.
248 Hephaistos was particularly skilled at metalwork and was thus the patron of metalworkers; Athena was patron of all craftspeople.
250ff. beauty: Before Odysseus looked admiringly upon the beauty of Nausikaa. Now, with a little help from Athena, the spectator has become the spectacle, and although it would not be permitte
d to her, as it was to him, to express her appreciation of his appearance openly, she can share her opinions with her maids.
258–60 As Odysseus had at first wondered whether Nausikaa might be a goddess and later expressed this uncertainty to her, Nausikaa very nearly thinks the same of him; certainly he looks like one of the gods. She does think that someone like him would make a fine husband, which some ancient commentators considered a blot on her character. But why not? The subject of marriage has been put into her head by no less than Athena (although Nausikaa thinks it was her friend in a dream), and Odysseus himself has with clever calculation insinuated the idea of marriage any number of times. Finally, she is only speaking her frank thoughts to her maids and confidantes. Shortly she will find a way, as crafty as his, to share this thought with Odysseus himself (see 291ff.).
261 This line is a rapid and seemingly unmotivated shift in Nausikaa’s thoughts, so abrupt, in fact, that Homer may be showing her covering her tracks. As Homer does not fail to show us, the same word can mean both “husband” (259 [posis, 244]) and “drink” (Fitzgerald’s “refreshment” at 261 in the Greek means “food and drink,” as at 265 [posis, the accusative form of posts, 246 and 248]). Considering ancient belief in the power of language, particularly of names and etymologies, I am not certain that we should, with most critics, rule out the possibility of a pun or some sort of intentional linkage on Homer’s part. There is no question that Homer plays on such linkages elsewhere and sometimes has his speakers do so. And there is no question that Homer reveals the thought processes of his characters, which he often does by presenting a character weighing several possibilities and choosing one. See XVII.300–304, below. It would be unusual, and astonishingly subtle, if by linking these words Homer was attempting to depict what we would term the subconscious workings of Nausikaa’s mind.
A Guide to the Odyssey: A Commentary on the English Translation of Robert Fitzgerald Page 17
