Stories from the Odyssey | Page 3

no reproach, and calls for no resentment. Still more startling are
the terms in which Autolycus, the maternal grandfather of Odysseus, is
spoken of. This worthy, we are informed, "surpassed all mankind in
thieving and lying"; and the information is given in a manner which
shows that the poet intended it as a grave compliment. In another
passage the same hero is celebrated as an accomplished burglar. So low
was the standard of Homeric ethics in this respect; and even in the
historical age of Greece, want of honesty and want of truthfulness were
too often conspicuous failings in some of her most famous men.
Even more shocking to the moral sense is the wild ferocity which
sometimes breaks out in the language and conduct of both men and
women. The horrible practice of mutilating the dead after a battle is
viewed with indifference, and even with complacency, by the bravest
warriors. Even Patroclus, the most amiable of the heroes in the Iliad,
proposes to inflict this dastardly outrage on the body of the fallen
Sarpedon. Achilles drags the body of Hector behind his chariot from
the battlefield, and keeps it in his tent for many days, that he may
repeat this hideous form of vengeance in honour of his slaughtered
friend. When the dying Hector begs him to restore his body to the
Trojans for burial he replies with savage taunts, and wishes that he
could find it in his heart to carve the flesh of Hector and eat it raw! And
Hecuba, the venerable Queen of Troy, expresses herself in similar
terms when Priam is preparing to set forth on his mission to the tent of
Achilles.
Turning now to the more attractive side of the picture, we shall find
much to admire in the character of Homer's heroes. In the first place we
have to note their intense vitality and keen sense of pleasure, natural to
a young and vigorous people. The outlook on life is generally bright
and cheerful, and there is hardly any trace of that corroding pessimism
which meets us in later literature. Cases of suicide, so common in the
tragedians, are almost unknown.
In one respect, and that too a point of the very highest importance, the
Greeks of this age were far in advance of those who came after them,
and not behind the most polished nations of modern Europe. We refer
to the beauty, the tenderness, and the purity of their domestic relations.
The whole story of the Odyssey is founded on the faithful wedded love
of Odysseus and Penelope, and the contrasted example of Agamemnon

and his demon wife is repeatedly held up to scorn and abhorrence. The
world's poetry affords no nobler scene than the parting of Hector and
Andromache in the Iliad, nor has the ideal of perfect marriage ever
found grander expression than in the words addressed by Odysseus to
Nausicaä: "There is nothing mightier and nobler than when man and
wife are of one mind and heart in a house, a grief to their foes, and to
their friends a great joy, but their own hearts know it best."[1]
[Footnote 1: Butcher and Lang's translation.]
Hospitality in a primitive state of society, where inns are unknown, is
not so much a virtue as a necessity. Even in these early times the
Greeks, within the limits of their little world, were great travellers, and
their swift chariots, and galleys propelled by sail and oar, enabled them
to make considerable journeys with speed and safety. Arrived at their
destination for the night they were sure of a warm welcome at the first
house at which they presented themselves; and he who played the host
on one occasion expected and found a like return when, perhaps years
afterwards, he was brought by business or pleasure to the home of his
former guest. Nor were these privileges confined to the wealthy and
noble, who were able, when the time came, to make payment in kind,
but the poorest and most helpless outcast, the beggar, the fugitive, and
the exile, found countenance and protection, when he made his plea in
the name of Zeus, the god of hospitality.
V
This frankness and simplicity of manners runs through the whole life of
the Homeric Greek, and is reflected in every page of the two great epics
which are the lasting monuments of that bright and happy age. As
civilisation advances, and life becomes more complicated and artificial,
human activity tends more and more to split up into an infinite number
of minute occupations, and the whole time and energy of each
individual are not more than sufficient to make him master in some
little corner of art, science, or industry. A vast system of commerce
brings the products of the whole world to