Odysseus had played a major role in the Trojan War, having conceived the plan for the wooden horse that brought victory and the destruction of the city of Troy after ten years of bitter fighting.
When he had left Ithaca, he left behind a young wife, Penelope, and their son, Telemachus, who had since grown into a man.
Robinet Testard’s miniature showing those left at home, Penelope, Laertes and Telemachus (c 1510), may seem quaint to modern eyes, but is a succinct summary of the situation back in Ithaca. Penelope, as the husband of the now absent king, had to try to rule in his lieu. Odysseus’ aged father, Laertes, was unlikely to see his son’s return. The young Telemachus needed his father to guide him to adulthood, and to learn how to be a king in contemporary society.
Domenico Beccafumi’s almost contemporary painting of Penelope (c 1514) is a sophisticated masterpiece even by today’s standards. By the start of the Odyssey, she had grown from young woman to middle-aged maid. News of what had happened during the war was very slow to reach outposts like Ithaca, a small island in the Ionian Sea off the west coast of mainland Greece.
When she heard that Troy had fallen and the victors were returning home, Penelope must have spent days watching and waiting. As she heard reports of other wives regaining their husbands, her hopes must have run like a roller-coaster. Beccafumi’s Penelope holds a thread in her right hand, which refers to her daily task of weaving the funeral shroud for Laertes, to spinning as a symbol of time and its passage, and to the Fates, who might be the figures at the bottom right.
Dante Gabriel Rossetti’s Penelope (1869) is shown at her loom, the shuttle held in her left hand, as she stares lost in thought of her absent husband, whose ships are seen in her weaving.
For Heva Coomans, Penelope Awaiting Odysseus (c 1900) is weaving an image of her husband as warrior, celebrating the victory at Troy. She pauses to look over her shoulder in the hope that the sails of his ships might appear any minute now.
Odysseus was delayed in departing as he had angered Poseidon. The king’s tutelary goddess Athena asked Zeus to allow his departure, letting him begin his odyssey. He and his twelve ships were soon driven off course by storms, visited lotus-eaters where the crews nearly forgot where they were heading, and then ended up on the island of the Cyclops.
Among these one-eyed giants was Polyphemus, who spent his days tending his flock of sheep then feasted on humans. After Polyphemus had devoured several of Odysseus’ crew, Odysseus got the giant drunk. Polyphemus asked Odysseus his name, and the latter replied Οὖτις (Outis, Greek for nobody). Once the giant had fallen into a stupor, Odysseus drove a hardened stake into his single eye, blinding him. The following morning, Odysseus and his men tied themselves to the undersides of the sheep in Polyphemus’ flock so that he couldn’t feel them escaping.
Recognising that he had lost his captives, Polyphemus called out for help from the other Cyclops, telling them that ‘Nobody’ had hurt him. The others therefore didn’t come to his aid. As Odysseus and his crew sailed off into the dawn, they derided the blind Polyphemus, who prayed to his father Poseidon for revenge, and threw huge rocks towards the fleeing ships.
Christoffer Wilhelm Eckersberg’s Ulysses Fleeing the Cave of Polyphemus (1812) shows Odysseus about to make his way out of the Cyclops’ cave, as his captor strokes one of his sheep. With Polyphemus’ face turned away from the viewer, it’s impossible to see whether he has been blinded.
Jacob Jordaens pictures the crew fastening themselves to the underside of the sheep as they prepare to escape, in his Odysseus in the Cave of Polyphemus, probably painted in about 1650. Again, the Cyclops is facing away from the viewer, and it’s hard to be sure this is taking place after his blinding.
Guido Reni’s account in his Polyphemus from 1639-40 is far clearer. The Cyclopean eye socket is now empty, where Odysseus had poked its single eye out. In the distance, Odysseus and his crew are making their way out to their ships in two smaller boats, in their haste to depart.
JMW Turner’s Ulysses Deriding Polyphemus (1829) is faithful to the Odyssey, although the distant form of Polyphemus is hard to discern high on the top of the cliffs towards the left. He shows the entire crew, led by Odysseus brandishing two large flags, arrayed up the masts and rigging to deride the blinded giant. The orange flag on the mainmast bears the Greek word Οὖτις (Outis).
Arnold Böcklin shows Odysseus’ crew rowing frantically out to sea, through large waves, as Polyphemus prepares to hurl a huge rock at them from the shore. His detailed realism and tight composition make this one of Böcklin’s most dramatic and active paintings.
After their escape from Polyphemus, the god of the winds Aeolus gave Odysseus a bag containing all the winds except that of the west, which was intended to ensure their safe return to Ithaca. When Odysseus was asleep, his crew released the winds, which promptly drove the ships back, and all apart from Odysseus’ ship were destroyed by cannibals.
The remaining ship sailed on to reach the island of Aeaea, the home of Circe, the goddess of magic, adept at all manner of potions and spells, where I’ll resume this summary next week.