An essay on the character of Odysseus
Odysseus clings to his titles of “hero” and “captain,” yet he abandons his role of leadership in the face of personal injury, and this, paired with his dishonesty towards his crew, causes the feelings of his men to change from those of appreciation to uneasiness and even desperation between lines 153 and 228 of the Odyssey. These feelings of reluctance (their hearts “contract” at Odysseus’ mention of exploration) are deeply rooted in the fact that past search parties for Xenia have ended in painful deaths for the involved members. One of the clearest examples was on the island of Lamos, where “[Odysseus] sent out two picked men and a herald to learn what race of men this land sustained… Antiphates, who came to drink their blood… seized one man and tore him on the spot, making a meal of him.” (X, 113-114 and 128-130). The Laistrygones then proceed to destroy all but one of Odysseus’ fleet, leaving only a crew of 44 men to remember that the decision of one man, their leader, sacrificed others so he could look on from safety.
Sadly enough, this crew of grown men does not hesitate to shed tears when the unlucky half of the group is sent to explore the source of the smoke on Aiaia. Unsurprisingly enough, Odysseus’ name does not emerge from the fateful dogskin cap, for Odysseus, unlike the rest of the crew, who are supposedly lesser men than he, is protected by his “great fate” and the favor of the gods, leaving him free to make decisions that have heavy consequences for others. His disregard for others is particularly emphasized on the Kyklopes’ island. “Why not take these cheeses, get them stowed, come back, throw open all the pens, and make a run for it?” his men plead him, “We say put out again on good salt water!” (IX, 242-246) However, Odysseus, with his pig-headed pride of a war hero, ignores this suggestion (“sound” even as he admits it), and escapes the clutches of death that take six of his men in that dreaded Kyklopes’ cave.
Odysseus is quick to pacify his crew, however, when he can—in order to prove himself worthy as their captain, Odysseus takes a few dramatic jabs at the Skylla after six of his best men (again) are subjected to a painful and cruel death, an end that Odysseus knew would come but didn’t trust them enough to warn them about. He claims to have been subject to forgetfulness: “Kirke’s bidding against arms had slipped my mind, so I tied on by cuirass and took up two heavy spears, then made my way along to the foredeck…” (XII, 292-296) Using a similar psychology, Odysseus hunts a large buck on Aiaia and allows his men to feast, blissfully unaware of the meager trade the meal is for the danger that is to come. Thanks to Odysseus’ slyness, his men never harbor any apparent resentment towards him—however, they do inwardly recognize that Odysseus’ actions often mean sacrifices only on their parts.
Sadly enough, this crew of grown men does not hesitate to shed tears when the unlucky half of the group is sent to explore the source of the smoke on Aiaia. Unsurprisingly enough, Odysseus’ name does not emerge from the fateful dogskin cap, for Odysseus, unlike the rest of the crew, who are supposedly lesser men than he, is protected by his “great fate” and the favor of the gods, leaving him free to make decisions that have heavy consequences for others. His disregard for others is particularly emphasized on the Kyklopes’ island. “Why not take these cheeses, get them stowed, come back, throw open all the pens, and make a run for it?” his men plead him, “We say put out again on good salt water!” (IX, 242-246) However, Odysseus, with his pig-headed pride of a war hero, ignores this suggestion (“sound” even as he admits it), and escapes the clutches of death that take six of his men in that dreaded Kyklopes’ cave.
Odysseus is quick to pacify his crew, however, when he can—in order to prove himself worthy as their captain, Odysseus takes a few dramatic jabs at the Skylla after six of his best men (again) are subjected to a painful and cruel death, an end that Odysseus knew would come but didn’t trust them enough to warn them about. He claims to have been subject to forgetfulness: “Kirke’s bidding against arms had slipped my mind, so I tied on by cuirass and took up two heavy spears, then made my way along to the foredeck…” (XII, 292-296) Using a similar psychology, Odysseus hunts a large buck on Aiaia and allows his men to feast, blissfully unaware of the meager trade the meal is for the danger that is to come. Thanks to Odysseus’ slyness, his men never harbor any apparent resentment towards him—however, they do inwardly recognize that Odysseus’ actions often mean sacrifices only on their parts.