137–39 More than an indication that Telémakhos was to the manor born, this uncanny knowledge suggests divine guidance.
145–46 all but strung—/ when a stiffening in Odysseus: The implication here is that Telémakhos could have strung the bow on the fourth try—he is now the equal of his father in strength. But at a sign from Odysseus, he feigns failure. The communication between father and son is wonderful: by the sign itself Odysseus acknowledges that he knows Telémakhos was about to do it and asks him not to, primarily—we infer—because it is not the time. It would also compromise the plan as it is developing in Odysseus’ mind. And we can speculate that Odysseus is not prepared for a public demonstration that his son is his equal and ready to displace his father.
147–54 Blast and damn it …: Aware that the truth is known to those who matter, Telémakhos ostentatiously “fails” with words of ironic self-deprecation.
153 elders: This does not strictly appear in the Greek, although it suggests the translator also has something in mind like the speculation about Odysseus at the end of the note on 145–46, above.
163–209 Leódês is the first of over a hundred suitors to try the bow. Homer customarily handles such scenes by varying the speeches and attitudes of each. The first is usually one of the longer (often the longest) cells in the larger structure, and there is nothing at this point in the text to suggest that Homer will depart from this practice: the introduction of Leódês (otherwise a minor suitor), his attempt, failure, and speech, and Antínoös’ reaction to the speech, occupy thirty-four lines (163–96). However, Homer’s solution to what could have been a wearisome catalog of failed attempts is radical. It turns out that by clever manipulation Leódês’ attempt is made to stand for those of all the suitors, with the exception of Eurýmakhos’ at the end.
Antínoös, somewhat unfairly to Leódês (it seems to me), declares that henceforth the bow will be greased and heated before each attempt. After Melánthios effects this operation (198–206; the fullest description of the procedure is postponed to 275–76; see the commentary on these lines, below), Homer summarizes all attempts with “one by one” (205–6), each ending in failure (207). The two ringleaders hold off (208–9). The way Homer presents the action, the attempts are ended (all but one, at 209) and the process is suspended while Homer directs our attention to a scene he stages outside the hall (210–73). But this is merely the way Homer presents simultaneous action. We are led to understand that Odysseus follows Eumaios and Philoítios outside and speaks to them while the long series of vain attempts is proceeding in repetitive fashion.
There is one other reason why Homer has chosen this radical compression of the series in Book XXI: he plans to recount the activities of many more suitors in much greater detail in Book XXII, when they are struggling, equally in vain, to avoid death at the hands of Odysseus, Telémakhos, Eumaios, and Philoítios.
210–12 The two loyal retainers leave the hall, unable to bear the sight of the suitors handling Odysseus’ bow. For all they know, one of them is on the verge of winning their lady’s hand, putting an end to the life of their household as they know it.
215–25 You, herdsman, / and you, too, swineherd …: Odysseus reveals himself to Eumaios and Philoítios. The questions he asks (219–23) bear such obvious hints that they seem intended more to prepare the two men—and the audience—for the revelation than to be serious queries. Odysseus already knows the loyalties of these two. Curiously enough, when he gets to the identification, Homer is very straightforward. Other recognitions, both prior and to come, are treated with more complexity and at greater length. Odysseus states that he is home and promises rewards if he proves victorious (240–43). Before there can be any exclamations of wonder—we might imagine a treatment in which Eumaios comments on his having been deceived, or saying that he sensed it all along—Odysseus shows them the scar from the boar’s wound, which we know well from Book XIX, where it prompted Eurýkleia’s recognition of him.
255–58 Break off, no more of this …: Odysseus is always the clever strategist and dissembler.
271 took the stool: A very important detail. Odysseus will remain seated both to string the bow (see XXI.12, above) and to shoot (480).
274ff. The bow has now made its way around to all the suitors save Eurýmakhos and Antínoös (see 163–209, above).
275–76 He turned it around …: Even though the suitors had been greasing and warming the bow ever since the second suitor’s vain attempt to string it (198–207), this is the fullest description of the process itself.
290–94 Antínoös said: It is never stated directly whether Antínoös tried the bow and failed. One inference from the management of the scene is that he suffered his failure just before Eurýmakhos’ attempt (274ff., compare 207: “Antínoös held off; so did Eurýmakhos”). While arguments claiming to prove his attempt “from silence” are rightly suspect, had Antínoös alone ducked the contest, Homer would hardly have missed the opportunity to point to his cowardice, if only in passing. Or is the subtle point of the present speech Antínoös’ all-too-transparent attempt to wriggle out of trying, so as to avoid ignominy.
316–17 Apollo …: A pious prayer. Odysseus means other than the suitors will, as he knows, take it.
323 since they were nagged by fear: Note the suitors’ sense of weakness. They had already witnessed this beggar’s thrashing of Iros (XVIII. 1–147). Antínoös of course casts his refusal in other terms, first as an affront to the suitors’ dignity given the station of a beggar (325–29) and then as an example of folly spurred by drunkenness, for which he cites a mythological exemplum (331–42).
349–59 Penélopê, significantly, speaks before Telémakhos has a chance to open his mouth. Note how cleverly she puts her finger on the true reason (353, “What are you afraid of?”), although she, even more cleverly, takes this imaginary fear one step further: not merely that the suitors will be shown up but that they fear the beggar as an actual rival. We are again left to wonder, especially at 357–59, if Penélopê isn’t saying this to inspire just this ambition in the “noble Kretan” ’s heart. “Analytical” scholars argue that this speech is a remnant of a version of The Odyssey in which Penélopê is clearly in on the plot.
361–69 Eurýmakhos, less subtle than Antínoös, sees no reason not to admit they fear for their reputations.
371–75 Eurýmakhos, you have no good repute …: Penélopê’s words are an insult and an argument at once, both unanswerable.
388–97 Telémakhos finally speaks. He is gruff because his goal is not merely to get the bow in Odysseus’ hands—it looks as if Penélopê were on the verge of effecting this—but to get Penélopê and the other women (“maids,” 395) out of harm’s way.
404–39 The swineherd had the horned bow in his hands …: Eumaios undertakes to execute Odysseus’ directive (from lines 262–63) but is so used to taking orders that he falters when challenged (414). It requires Telémakhos’ countermand to get him moving again, with language that seems dangerously provocative of the suitors (422–24). Telémakhos is excited, and his youthful rashness surfaces. Homer doesn’t ignore this but has the exaggeration provoke nothing but a storm of laughter (425–27). This resembles but differs from the laughter that Athena inspired (XX.386ff.). Eumaios then delivers the bow to Odysseus and immediately (430–39) fulfills the rest of Odysseus’ commands (264–67).
440–45 Philoítios now sets out to do as Odysseus bade him (268–69).
446–49 The beggar will of course appear to be handling the bow for the first time, but Homer lets us know that Odysseus is clearheaded enough to think of eventualities that would never occur to a lesser man. Odysseus must be certain that the bow will still withstand his full strength and be fit for the battle to follow.
450–59 The sight of the beggar taking his time clearly unnerves the suitors, and they vent their nervousness in jesting.
462–71 like a musician …: The simile of the harper is of course of particular interest, drawing as it does on
Homer’s own profession. Left unsaid is a fuller elaboration of the comparison, whereby the harper’s music and bard’s songs fly into the audience’s hearts as do archer’s shafts when they are as well aimed as Odysseus’ will be. Apollo is after all the god of both song and archery and of other areas of human endeavor as well, for example, healing. For the moment, the bow literally becomes a harp, and the plucked string sends a note into the suitors’ hearts.
473 laughed within him: The suitors jest openly and lamely. Odysseus conceals his laughter.
475–91 He picked one ready arrow …: So long has Homer kept us focused on the trial of stringing the bow that it comes almost as a surprise to be reminded that the stringing is but a preliminary to the trial of the axes. This arrow is not yet for the suitors, but for the ax heads. Reference to the “rest” of the arrows (476b-77) might suggest that, now that the bow has been strung, the suitors could try the shot. But of course Homer and his audience will be thinking of the rather different way in which the young men will make trial of the arrows in Book XXII.
480 sat upon the stool: While great strength is also needed, this too is part of the trick of stringing this unusual bow (see XXI. 12, above).
492–95 The hour has come to cook …: Whether the code was prearranged or not—and Homer has not told us that it was—these ambiguous words are the signal to Telémakhos that the time for vengeance is at hand. I take it that the very fact that they seem to be code suffices to convey the message whether it was prearranged or not, given the context in conjunction with a head signal (495).
495–99 He dropped his eyes and nodded …: After the carefully strategized delaying economy of the test of the bow, Homer, like Odysseus, once the bow is strung and in his hands, is for action. The change of tempo is remarkable and makes for an exciting book ending.
BOOK XXII
Death in the Great Hall
1ff. Homer continues at the rapid rate with which Book XXI concluded. Odysseus is ready for action, and after a brief but equivocal prayer to Apollo (7)—equivocal because the suitors will not take it the way Odysseus intends it—the slaughter begins. Antínoös is first, which is not only just but good strategy: Odysseus will get off only one shot without opposition, and he uses it to take out the most dangerous suitor, and the subtler and in that way more Odysseus-like of the two ringleaders. Eurýmakhos’ death will be the second (87–94).
24–26 Each detail of Odysseus’ plotting now falls into place.
31 You killed the best on Ithaka: Obviously far from true, since Odysseus is there, although this is the last instant Homer can evoke that irony. The suitors are about to learn what the audience has known all along: Odysseus is back. Note another advantage of the (eminently practical) removal of Penélopê from the hall: Homer will be able to treat the reaction to the news of Odysseus’ return by the suitors and by her in different scenes.
47–57 Eurýmakhos alone could speak …: Now that Antínoös lies dead in a pool of his own blood, no one is swifter than Eurýmakhos in attempting to lay all the blame on him.
58–71 Eurýmakhos offers a “deal.” It is not entirely unreasonable, but Odysseus rejects it. This is not the novelistic world of business, as the suitors would like to believe, but heroic epic. They wanted the honor and glory of occupying Odysseus’ place in Ithaka; they will now have to pay for their ambitions in epic terms.
79 Swords out!: Odysseus was able to have the javelins and shields removed, but each man still has a sword as personal armor.
131–34 Scenes of heroes arming themselves are conventional. This is an abbreviated, “express” version, with mention made of only shield, helmet, and spears. More extensive versions describe the donning of greaves, breastplate, and sword. (For comparisons, not surprisingly mostly from The Iliad, see Fernández-Galiano in HWH 3.243–44 [on XXII.122–25]).
137–58 a window … / lighting the passage to the storeroom …: On the best, or at least most satisfactory, solution to the controversy about this much-disputed feature of Odysseus’ house, the inner passage to the storeroom, see Fitzgerald’s Postscript (pp. 478–81 of the translation).
158–64 Homer knows that nothing grips an audience’s attention more than the introduction of unforeseen complications. Odysseus excels not only at devising plots but at responding impromptu to the unexpected. This turn of events could completely destroy Odysseus. Already twelve men have shields and spears. There is every danger that more hostile weapons will get into the hall: hence Eumaios and Philoítios are sent on their foray (190–97) and surprise Melánthios. His punishment is reserved until lines 527–30.
191 for all their urge to leave: Another instance of grim understatement (litotes), one of the most characteristic and pleasurable features of epic style. Like irony, it permits the listener to share the sovereign superiority of both hero and narrator.
226–28 Homer so far has not made it possible for us to tell how many suitors have been slain by either Odysseus’ arrows or the odd spear cast, such as the one by which Telémakhos dispatched Amphínomos (98–100). As we settle in for more standard hacking and the typical scene (even into modern adventure movies) of one or a few against many, we learn that the count is now four versus forty. The odds were worse before, but now some of the “bad guys” are armed. Athena’s appearance is timely.
233 For he guessed it was Athena: Homer doesn’t leave us to wonder if Odysseus took “Mentor” to be the venerable Ithakan elder or Athena. Of course, the suitors remain in the dark (236ff.).
244–46 Your sons …: A terrible threat: this imagined vengeance would fall not only on Mentor but on his entire family.
247–67 Athena’s anger grew like a storm wind: At this point Athena is there only to inspire the courage inherent in Odysseus and Telémakhos. Her abusive words are meant to fire them up, to challenge them—a technique still practiced in the ritual half-time tongue-lashing that coaches give their teams (at least in all popular depictions; the “halftime harangue” is one of film and TV’s “typical scenes,” and if it is also true to life, it may be impossible to determine whether art is imitating life or life imitating art). Note lines 262–64, especially. No one—in our hero’s band, among the suitors, or Homer—mentions that the transformation of “Mentor” into a bird would have convinced one and all of the goddess’ presence. If anything, Ageláos’ remark shows him to be not only impious but obtuse (275).
268–85 A group of suitors is now shown to act in concert, and Homer presents a brief huddle. This also makes it possible for Homer to sort and shape the carnage. Here, for example, only six take on the four. Were all forty to band together, it would likely have taxed Odysseus and Homer both. Athena is now giving more than encouraging words.
297 As these lay dying: At this point thirty-six suitors remain opposed to Odysseus. (For a thorough review of the ever-diminishing census, see Fernández-Galiano in HWH 3.263–64 [on XXII.241–329]).
301–24 With the death of Ktésippos, the opponents are reduced to thirty-two. This time, for variety’s sake, both Telémakhos and Eumaios have experienced superficial wounds. Because it was a “cow’s hoof that Ktésippos hurled at Odysseus (see XX.330–32), the privilege of avenging that insult is transferred from Odysseus, the victim of the outrage, to the good cowherd, Philoítios. Of course, from the poet’s point of view, credibility is the only limit to the number of victories ascribable to the hero himself, and Homer must have been seeking to create opportunities for the other characters to have particular men to “waste.” Fernández-Galiano, articulating an important structural principle of all action narratives, notes that “the author is careful to apportion the fourteen killings he describes according to a strict order of precedence: six to Odysseus, four to Telemachus, and two each to Eumaeus and Philoetius” (263).
330ff. that unmanning thunder cloud …: Having seen Odysseus and company reduce the odds from forty-to-four to thirty-to-four, Athena weighs in, the appearance of her shield (aegis) driving the suitors mad. Now undisciplined, they are much
easier to eliminate, as the simile suggests (334–42), and at fines 344–46 we lose count of the dead.
347–428 Now there was one …: Homer initiates a series of scenes focusing on individuals begging for mercy. (For other examples in The Odyssey, see Book X.361ff.: Odysseus threatening Kirkê; and there are battlefield instances in The Iliad, for example, Lykaon’s entreaties of Akhilleus, XXI.74ff.) The first of the scenes ends in Odysseus’ rejection of Leódês’ request (347–70). We met Leódês when he was the first to attempt and fail to string Odysseus’ bow (XXI.163–87).
371–400 In contrast, the next suppliant, Phêmios the minstrel, is saved by the testimony of Telémakhos (400), but we feel that it is primarily by virtue of his singing, so nobly described by Telémakhos and Homer (388–93). (On Phêmios’ name and genealogy, see Who’s Who in The Odyssey, p.338.)
401–28 And we should let our herald live: Telémakhos himself thinks to seek the herald Medôn, who hears the offer and emerges from his hiding place beneath the table (406ff). This is a moment of comic relief amid the exaltation of battle and the grim carnage, and a notable variation on the theme of universal slaughter.
A Guide to the Odyssey: A Commentary on the English Translation of Robert Fitzgerald Page 36
