WHY CAN'T TELEMACHUS BE KING? THE GROWTH OF A YOUNG BASILEUS

Abstract

This article seeks to offer some considerations on Telemachus’ journey to Pylos and Sparta (Hom. Od. 1–4), interpreting it in the light of his social position as heir of a basileus. Can the beginning of the Odyssey represent a sort of formation for the young prince? And how does the text support this reading? After a brief review of the features of a Homeric basileus, it will be argued that the narrative presents the growth of Telemachus as that of a young prince who needs to comply with those features, and become acquainted with the heroic world he lives in at peace.

Homeric ‘kingship’ and its requirements

At the beginning of the Odyssey, we are introduced to Odysseus’ homeland and family. The hero has been away from home for twenty years, and Ithaca has come to a very stressed political situation. The island is abasileutos (‘without a king’), and suitors from the local aristocracy are seeking to marry Penelope in order to take Odysseus’ royal dignity. One question emerges from this picture of Ithaca, as presented in the first two books of the poem: why can Telemachus not rule, taking the place of his father?

Moses Finley raised this question in his very well-known treatise on The World of Odysseus.¹ After all, the young prince is twenty years old at this point, and Laertes, Odysseus’ father, also lives on the island. The right of succession by birth is well known, as can be seen from Antinous’ reply to Telemachus during the assembly in Ithaca, when he says to the young man: ‘It is to be hoped the son of Cronos does not make you king in the island of Ithaca, a thing which is your heritage by descent’ (Od. 1.386–7)² – but this right is not enough.³

One must consider that a Homeric basileus (‘king’) is not a monarch with full powers, as in the ancient Eastern kingdoms or in the modern European monarchies, but rather a primus inter pares (‘first among equals’). The Ithacan society counts many oikoi, households with their own chiefs. Both the king and the householders are said to rule (anassein). What is the difference, then, between the two figures? According to Finley, the text gives an answer to this question: basileis are said to rule over the other households in one way, that is, iphi (‘by might’). Homeric kings are first of all warriors, great heroes who command armies and gain honour in the battlefield. Indeed, the Iliad presents the basileis in time of war. But what about the Odyssey? In the younger poem, apart from some briefly referred to episodes of warfare,⁴ we find situations in which the warrior's might would not be adequate, and we are shown examples of kings and societies at times of peace.

So which are the requirements to be a Homeric basileus? In the Iliad, Nestor claims that Achilles and Agamemnon are ‘chief among the Danaans in counsel and chief in war’ (Il. 1.258).⁵ Basileis are expected to be skilled not only in combat, but also good speakers to win the favour of the boule (‘the council’), and of the agora, the assembly of the people reunited.⁶ Assemblies are normally convoked to resolve conflicts, very often between high ranked members of society.

At war, assemblies are mostly summoned to discuss warfare matters, and therefore the warrior-heroes must possess the skills to deliver authoritative speech-acts to prevail over their opponents.⁷ Action and speech (ἔργον τε ἔπος τε) are indeed two sets of skills that the Homeric warrior has to master, but what about when war is not involved? In the world at peace shown by the Odyssey, the agora often constitutes the context of resolution of ‘civic’ conflicts. Here, the basileis are expected to be fair judges, and give straight judgements with eloquence.⁸ When this requirement is fulfilled, prosperity for their land and people is said to follow. This can be inferred from the depiction of the eunomie (‘good government’) in the description of the shield of Achilles (Il. 18.490–508) and from the claims made by Odysseus himself, disguised as a beggar, in dialogue with Penelope (Od. 19.107–14).

The pattern of eunomie and prosperity seems to be common to almost all extant philosophical works On Kingship (περὶ βασιλείας) – the treatises on good kingship, written at the time of the Hellenistic monarchies first, and then in the Roman late Republic and Empire. Homeric basileis were frequent examples in these works.⁹ It is a theme surely shared with Hesiod.¹⁰ In the Works and Days (Hes. Op. 225–33) we find the same picture:

As for those who give straight judgments to visitors and to their own people and do not deviate from what is just, their community flourishes, and the people blooms in it. Peace is about the land, fostering the young, and wide-seeing Zeus never marks out grievous war as their portion. Neither does Famine attend straight-judging men, nor Blight, and they feast on the crops they tend. For them Earth bears plentiful food, and on the mountains the oak carries acorns at its surface and bees at its centre.¹¹

In Hesiod's account, Zeus is explicitly referred to as the guarantor of justice. Indeed, basileis are ‘nourished by Zeus’ in the Theogony (81–2) and in the Odyssey. Menelaus is διοτρεφής (‘brought up by Zeus’; for instance in Od. 4.26) and Odysseus is διογενής (‘offspring of Zeus’; Od. 11.60). Thus, Homeric kings are to some degree ‘divinely ordained’ judges when resolving communal conflicts.¹²

The judicial aspect of Homeric kingship has much to do with their speech in counsel. The justice of a basileus depends very much on his charisma and eloquence, and both symbolically derive from Zeus in the epics. The gods are symbolic patrons and guarantors of the act of holding an assembly and pronouncing fair sentences. Again, we can turn to Hesiod's account first. When speaking of the characteristics and effects of a rightful and respectable king's deeds and, most of all, of his speech, the poet asserts that while ‘it is from the Muses and far-shooting Apollo that men are singers and citharists on earth’, it is ‘from Zeus that they are kings’ (quoting West's translation of Hes. Theog. 94–6).¹³

In Homer, the bond between Zeus and the royal prominence in the assembly seems to be hinted at on various occasions. A relevant feature of this is the role of the basileis’ sceptre. In the poems, a sceptre is often the object that symbolically confers to its bearer the right to call an assembly in order to discuss the matters that concern him. Some sceptres, when held by basileis, are a symbol of their kingship and show clear connections with divinity. The most famous example is Agamemnon's sceptre in the Iliad, which the anax (‘high king’) uses to address the other Achaeans from a prominent, royal position. This wooden staff derives directly from Zeus; indeed, it was made for him by Hephaestus, and then passed from the king of the gods himself to Pelops, for him to rule over Argos (Il. 2.100–9).¹⁴

Moreover, going back to the Odyssey (and, significantly, to the first books), Zeus is explicitly mentioned as guarantor of the assemblies by Telemachus, in his unsuccessful attempt to impose his will over the suitors during the assembly that he had convoked. The young prince invokes both Zeus and Themis, the goddess/personification of justice, who are the ones responsible for calling and solving the agora (Od. 2.68–9). It is clear, then, that there is a symbolic and traditional connection between the divine sphere and the charisma and justice of the basileis when speaking in the agora, especially when it comes to conflict resolution.

The bond with Zeus and, more generally, with the gods is then a fundamental requirement, one that the basileus needs not only to have by nature, but to be conscious of and to respect actively. Homeric heroes must concretely behave in a good way in respect of the gods. The worst sin for them is hubris, the arrogance that makes one offend or contend with the divinities.¹⁵ An offence to Apollo caused the plague that led to the wrath of Achilles in the Iliad (1.5–12), and the offences to Poseidon's son Polyphemus (Od. 11.100–3) and to Helios (1.1–9) by Odysseus and his companions caused their long and unfortunate journey of return in the Odyssey.

Indeed, basileis are demanded to perform frequent sacrifices to the gods, and the non-compliance with this demand leads to bad consequences, too. That was Menelaus’ case, when he remained stuck on the island of Paros during his nostos (‘homecoming’) from Troy, just because he did not make the necessary sacrifices before leaving Egypt (4.351–3).

Furthermore, as Finley insisted, basileis are first of all chiefs of their households, and the oikoi are always competing for prestige, wealth, and rank in the heroic world of the Odyssey.¹⁶ Particularly, the oikos works as a ‘unit of consumption’, where all the goods belonging to the basileus are stored and distributed internally.¹⁷

Wealth is then the third fundamental requirement to be a basileus. The goods that form his wealth may come from looting – and therefore also give military honour to the chief – or they may come from gifts, exchanged with other basileis, creating stronger social relationships. In the words of Robin Osborne, ‘material goods are important markers of status within epic society…Negotiation of position by material exchange is omnipresent, in private as well as public contexts’.¹⁸ Wealth can be then exhibited widely in feasts and banquets on different occasions, such as weddings, sacrifices, or simple reunions with guests and singers.

We can now resume the considerations made so far, and divide the requirements for being a good basileus in three wide categories:

1. i. First of all, he must be a brave, skilled warrior and commander in war, the most prominent characteristic for a heroic chief in the epics.

2. ii. He must also be a fair and charismatic judge in the agora, and a pious administrator of religious duties. All these ‘civic’ functions come to him from his connection with the gods, Zeus in particular, and he must be conscious and respectful of this.

3. iii. Lastly, he must be rich, know how to administrate his oikos, and exhibit his wealth through marriages, banquets, and gifts in order to maintain his household's prosperity and social position.

This pattern recalls the three functions theorized by Georges Dumézil for Indo-European societies and mythical traditions, that is, the sovereignty/sacred function, the warrior function, and the productivity/fertility function.¹⁹ Similar patterns may be seen also in other passages in Homer and in Hesiod, even if always in varied forms. In the depiction of the shield of Achilles in the Iliad, for example, it has been found in the structure of the description of the ‘two cities’.²⁰ In Hesiod's Works and Days, Jean-Pierre Vernant argued the presence of this pattern in the myth of the five human races (Hes. Op. 106–202).²¹ That myth certainly shows parallels with Eastern traditions (that of the four kingdoms in the biblical Book of Daniel, for instance), as well as with the Indian epic poem Mahabharata, and with the Persian tradition.²²

But Dumézil's three functions, as has been argued after he proposed his theory, may not be restricted only to the Indo-European context. Some scholars have noticed that similar features can be found in the Hebrew Bible as well. Interestingly, they seem to play an important role in the narratives concerning biblical kings such as Saul and Nehemiah, and in the legitimation of their royal position.²³ However, it does not seem possible to closely follow Dumézil's theory in our analysis of Homeric kingship. Although some affinities may be found, the Greek epics show their own particular characteristics in the representation of society, Homer being a ‘cultural and linguistic amalgam’, as Geoffrey Kirk once wrote.²⁴

Now let us turn back to our initial question: why can Telemachus not be a basileus? To answer this question, we may take a close look at the first four books of the Odyssey to find out which features the young prince lacks.

Telemachus’ journey: an education for the prince

Telemachus is first shown in his milieu, Odysseus’ palace in Ithaca, among the suitors who feast and disrespect his family every day. He is an insecure (1.214–16), weak (1.250–1), and resourceless young man who cannot stop the suitors’ arrogant behaviour.²⁵ Given this situation, Athena visits Ithaca to give some advice to him, in order to prepare him for Odysseus’ return. She suggests he leaves for Pylos and Sparta ‘to find out about the return of his dear father, if he can hear of it anywhere, and so that a fine reputation [κλέος ἐσθλὸν] among men may be his’ (1.94–5). So, the two explicit reasons for the journey are to seek for news about the return of his father and to gain kleos esthlon (a ‘noble reputation’).

Since antiquity, though, the two motives stated by Athena have not seemed enough to justify the journey, and ancient scholia (‘annotations’) – including Porphyrius’ commentaries – suggest a further and deeper reason: the paideusis (‘education’) of Telemachus.²⁶ Many modern scholars have interpreted the journey in the same way.²⁷ In this sense, one could imagine something similar to the modern Bildungsroman, but actually Telemachus’ growth is quite different. As Giuseppe Aurelio Privitera points out, in nineteenth-century novels, youth is a critical moment, and the young man with his travelling and experiences forms himself in opposition to his father and to society, while in the Telemachy the protagonist wants to discover his father's personality and develop himself according to that model.²⁸

Indeed, Telemachus’ education will proceed in a traditional Greek manner, that is, through the observation of exempla.²⁹ He will have different kinds of examples: his own peers (Orestes and Nestor's son, Peisistratus), his father's comrades-in-arms (Nestor and Menelaus), and ultimately his own father, from the tales he will listen to. In this way, Telemachus will build his own personality in compliance with the model of a heroic basileus, and particularly his identity will come to match his father's.³⁰

So what does Telemachus need to learn in order to become worthy of Odysseus? Does he meet the necessary requirements to be a basileus? In the first book of the poem, he is incapable of action, and he even doubts if he really is the son of his father. At the arrival of Athena disguised as Mentes, the goddess speaks of Odysseus as a warrior, pointing to him as the solution against the arrogance of the suitors (1.255–6). She then suggests Telemachus should be ready to ‘slay the suitors’ in his house, whether ‘by craft or openly’ (1.295–6). Finally, she points out Orestes as a good example, exhorting the young Telemachus to imitate his fame (1.298–302), and she infuses in him μένος καὶ θάρσος (‘strength and courage’; 1.320) to speak in the assembly in front of the suitors and the people of Ithaca.

The young prince has now started his growth, but he is still lacking the knowledge on how to become a hero and defeat his enemies. We can see from the following events that, when confronted with the suitors, Telemachus will not be able to prevail and impose his will. He is too weak, and he cannot use force for his purpose (2.58–62):³¹

…οὐ γὰρ ἔπ᾽ ἀνήρ,

οἷος Ὀδυσσεὺς ἔσκεν, ἀρὴν ἀπὸ οἴκου ἀμῦναι…

ἦ τ᾽ ἂν ἀμυναίμην, εἴ μοι δύναμίς γε παρείη⋅

There is no man over them, such as Odysseus was, to keep the plague away from the house…I would certainly keep it away, if only I had the power.

The only thing he can do is pray to the gods (Od. 2.68 and 138–47) and claim for himself the administration of his oikos (1.396–97).³² This means that Telemachus already meets two of the requirements. Firstly, he has a clear connection with the gods; Athena in particular, to whom he directs constant prayers,³³ but he also seems to have Zeus’ favour already, as we can infer from the omen of the eagles sent by the father of the gods at the end of one of Telemachus’ speeches (2.146–7):

ὣς φάτο Τηλέμαχος, τῷ δ᾽ αἰετὼ εὐρύοπα Zεὺς

ὑψόθεν ἐκ κορυφῆς ὄρεος προέηκε πέτεσθαι.

So spoke Telemachos, and for him wide-eyed Zeus sent forward on their flight two eagles from high up, from the peak of a mountain.

Secondly, he can already lead his household and all its activities, but he lacks the most important feature: he does not have any warrior might to use against the suitors. He cannot rule iphi, as Finley would say.

After Telemachus’ first speech, it is significant that Eurymachus replies by acknowledging the young man's rightful claim on his house and family, but also his lack of might (1.402–4):

κτήματα δ᾽ αὐτὸς ἔχοις καὶ δώμασι οἷσιν ἀνάσσοις.

μὴ γὰρ ὅ γ᾽ ἔλθοι ἀνὴρ, ὅς τίς σ᾽ ἀέκοντα βίηφι

κτήματ᾽ ἀπορραίσει’, Ἰθάκης ἔτι ναιεταούσης.

May you have your property yourself and be master in your own house. May that man not come who might tear away your property from you against your will by force, so long as Ithaca is still a place where people live.

The insistence on Telemachus’ possessions (κτήματα) is clearly opposed to the use of violence, bie, against which he would not be able to fight. Eurymachus is encouraging Telemachus to accept his role as a mere householder, and he leverages the prince's weakness. Nevertheless, Athena does not give up on Telemachus. The goddess reinforces his hope, telling him that if he truly is Odysseus’ son, he must have inherited his father's heroic skills (ἔργον τε ἔπος τε, ‘action and speech’), and the journey to Pylos and Sparta will help him rediscover them and claim them (2.270–80).

So, Telemachus undertakes his journey, during which he will be formed thanks to the exempla of the characters he will meet. In the third and fourth books, we are introduced to the heroic world at peace, of which the young prince will have to learn the manners, and where he will earn some kleos of his own, according to Athena's purpose.³⁴

The first stop is Pylos in the western Peloponnese. Here, we are immediately presented with a very clear picture of sacral activity (3.1–11). Nestor is making sacrifices on the shore, with his family and other Pylians (3.4–6):

οἱ δὲ Πύλον, Νηλῆος ἐϋκτίμενον πτολίεθρον,

ἷξον⋅ τοὶ δ᾽ ἐπὶ θινὶ θαλάσσης ἱερὰ ῥέζον,

ταύρους παμμέλανας, ἐνοσίχθονι κυανοχαίτῃ.

And they came to Pylos, the well-founded city of Neleus. They (sc. the Pylians) were sacrificing holy offerings on the shore of the sea, bulls entirely black, to the shaker of the earth with the dark-blue hair.

The ritual corresponds to the thusia: a domestic animal is sacrificed, and then its meat is distributed among the diners in a big banquet.³⁵

Nestor, we may observe, is characterized as πεπνυμένος (‘full of wisdom’) in the description given by Athena (3.20). In his characterization one can recognize some themes present in a literary genre of wisdom poetry common to other traditions, not only Greek but also Oriental. It is the speculum principum, the ‘education of princes’, where a preceptor gives advice on kingship to kings or princes.³⁶ Similar admonitions can be found, for instance, in the Mahabharata.³⁷ In the Iliad, Nestor often appeared as a preceptor, for instance giving advice on royal behaviour to Agamemnon and Achilles, much younger than him (Il. 1.247–91).³⁸ In the Odyssey he is connoted by the theme of the ‘sweet respect’ (αἰδώς μειλιχίη) of the king's eloquence (for example in Od. 3.96), which is a typical theme of the speculum principum shared also with Hesiod.³⁹ As we argued earlier, this kind of eloquence is part of the fundamental features of Homeric basileis.

Telemachus in turn, according to the narrator, will answer pepnumenos (‘wisely’) to Athena's description (3.21). Now, as John Heath quite convincingly showed, in Homer, pepnumenos refers to ‘a wisdom through experience and age, and is very closely connected with speech’.⁴⁰ This is odd, because Telemachus still does not demonstrate effective wisdom in speech and action. That is precisely the goal, the reason for the journey, in Athena's words. This oddity may be explained partly by the formulaic use of the epithet, but there may also be an intentional game played by the poet with his public, giving emphasis to the contradiction between the meaning of the word and the contrary behaviour of Telemachus.⁴¹ That might explain the use of the epithet in two subsequent verses, the first referring to Nestor and the second to Telemachus, as in an explicit opposition between ‘someone who is’ and ‘someone who wants to be’ pepnumenos.

Some verses later, though, we are introduced to Nestor's son, Peisistratus, who will be a companion to Telemachus in his journey. He is a young peer of Telemachus’ age, worthy son of his father, respectful of social norms and of divinities (3.43–50). And Peisistratus, being himself brother and son of pepnumenoi (like Antilochus in the Iliad), will be a perfect exemplum for Telemachus, not of an adult hero as Telemachus needs to become, but of a young prince as he is. Peisistratus, one could say, can show Telemachus the right path, demonstrating the attitude of a young prince of their age, heir of a wise basileus. This is precisely what he does in 4.155–7, when he answers to Menelaus because Telemachus still does not know the appropriate response.

Nestor then starts talking to Telemachus, remembering the war of Troy and Odysseus. At a certain point, he makes an explicit comparison between father and son, saying (3.120–5):

ἔνθ᾽ οὔ τίς ποτε μῆτιν ὁμοιωθήμεναι ἄντην

ἤθελ᾽, ἐπεὶ μάλα πολλὸν ἐνίκα δῖος Ὀδυσσεὺς

παντοίοισι δόλοισι, πατὴρ τεός, εἰ ἐτεόν γε

κείνου ἔκγονός ἐσσι⋅ σέβας μ᾽ ἔχει εἰσορόωντα.

ἦ τοι γὰρ μῦθοί γε ἐοικότες, οὐδέ κε φαίης

ἄνδρα νεώτερον ὧδε ἐοικότα μυθήσασθαι.

There [i.e. in Troy] no one would ever consent to be compared directly with him in counsel, for the divine Odysseus was far superior in all kinds of tricks – your father, if indeed you really are descended from him: and awe comes over me as I look at you. Your words at any rate are fitting, and you would not think that a young man could speak so fittingly.

Further on, Nestor tells the young man about the returns of the Achaean heroes. During his own return, he was careful to be observant of the gods’ wills, he made sacrifices to Poseidon (3.176–80), and he saved himself only because he understood the divine plans (3.165–6). Moreover, Nestor too mentions Orestes and his kleos, suggesting that Telemachus should follow his example (3.196–200). Telemachus again recognizes Orestes’ example, but he shows himself still too insecure and passive about his destiny (3.209).

At the end of Book 3, Athena leaves, showing her divine presence. Nestor notices it and is amazed. He then acts immediately to honour the goddess with more sacrifices – which will be accurately described in every detail (3.418–63).

In the whole episode at Pylos, the text abundantly insists that Nestor is a wise, eloquent basileus, particularly careful regarding religious activity, that is, one of the aspects of our tripartite pattern.⁴² The book opens and closes with him offering sacrifices to the gods in an appropriate way, which is illustrated in detail to us and to Telemachus. The king is pious and respectful of the gods’ will. He is also pepnumenos, and has a considerable eloquence, which he attributes to Telemachus too. Nestor is a good exemplum, then, and in the act of comparing Telemachus to Odysseus he is fulfilling Athena's purpose: to make Telemachus conscious of his true heroic identity. Now one category of the requirements is confirmed for the young prince.

After Pylos, Telemachus moves to his second stop, Sparta, accompanied by Peisistratus. As in Book 3, Book 4 opens with a very clear and vivid scene: Menelaus is offering banquets for the marriages of his daughter and son (4.1–15). Hermione, Helen's daughter, is said to be ‘similar to Aphrodite’ (4.13–15). The description of the scene is long and detailed, so that before the two guests are noticed and invited to come in, we see the diners, singers, and dancers all around, enjoying the feast. The two young princes are then invited and accommodated, and a first recognition of their royal appearance is hinted at by Menelaus, who still does not know his guests’ identities (4.63–5). While everyone is dining, Telemachus makes a particular remark to Peisistratus (4.71–5):

φράζεο, Νεστορίδη, τῷ ἐμῷ κεχαρισμένε θυμῷ,

χαλκοῦ τε στεροπὴν κὰδ δώματα ἠχήεντα

χρυσοῦ τ' ἠλέκτρου τε καὶ ἀργύρου ἠδ' ἐλέφαντος.

Zηνός που τοιήδε γ' Ὀλυμπίου ἔνδοθεν αὐλή,

ὅσσα τάδ' ἄσπετα πολλά· σέβας μ' ἔχει εἰσορόωντα.

Look, son of Nestor, delightful to my heart, at the flashing of bronze throughout the echoing halls, and of gold and electrum and silver and ivory. I imagine the court of Olympian Zeus must be like this inside – there is such a huge amount of everything: awe comes over me as I look at it.

Telemachus is amazed by the wealth of Menelaus’ palace, which plays an important and significant role in the episode. Norman Austin made an interesting observation on this fact:

The contrast between Pylos and Sparta is remarkable…Now the setting is a palace, and the palace itself becomes a significant part of this experience…The communal life in the palace is as elaborate and impressive as the architecture. The whole palace is a hive of activity; a wedding feast is in progress when Telemachos arrives, with a singer, dancers, and acrobats providing entertainment.⁴³

In Pylos we were given almost no description of the setting. We only knew that the heroes were at first on the shore and then they moved to the palace, where little information was given of the scenario, such as the mention of Nestor's throne – not as an ornamental detail, but one with the function of highlighting the king's old age and his royal lineage (3.404–12). In Sparta, au contraire, the abundance of descriptions is overwhelming. The exhibition of wealth is a prominent motif.⁴⁴

Menelaus explains the origin of much of that wealth, mentioning some details about his return from Troy, the second longest after Odysseus’. He says he was in Cyprus, Phoenicia, Libya, Egypt, and other places, where he gathered many goods. In his account, he pays particular attention to pastoral details, such as in the description of Libya (4.84–9):

Αἰθίοπάς θ' ἱκόμην καὶ Σιδονίους καὶ Ἐρεμβοὺς

καὶ Λιβύην, ἵνα τ' ἄρνες ἄφαρ κεραοὶ τελέθουσι.

τρὶς γὰρ τίκτει μῆλα τελεσφόρον εἰς ἐνιαυτόν·

ἔνθα μὲν οὔτε ἄναξ ἐπιδευὴς οὔτε τι ποιμὴν

τυροῦ καὶ κρειῶν οὐδὲ γλυκεροῖο γάλακτος,

ἀλλ' αἰεὶ παρέχουσιν ἐπηετανὸν γάλα θῆσθαι.

And I came to the Ethiopians, Sidonians, and Erembi, and Libya, where lambs become horned straightaway: for the sheep give birth three times for the year's full cycle. There neither king nor shepherd goes without cheese and meat, or sweet milk, but they always provide ample milk to be drawn for them.

Here the happiness of the Libyans is expressed in terms of pastoral prosperity. Further on, Helen arrives at the halls where the guests are dining, and she joins the conversation as well. She is said to be ‘similar to Artemis’, and she too, like her husband, is connoted by the abundance of gifts and goods that she has brought to Sparta (4.121–36).

Besides the banquets, another relevant feature asserted in Book 4 is the bestowing of gifts. At Helen's entrance to the hall, we are told of the gifts she and Menelaus received in Egypt (4.123–32). Later on, Menelaus will take great care in offering enough adequate gifts to Telemachus before he leaves (4.589–92), while in Pylos there were no gifts, and the young man left only with some borrowed horses.⁴⁵

When Telemachus tells the reason for his visit, he specifies that at home the suitors are consuming his possessions (4.318–20):

ἐσθίεταί μοι οἶκος, ὄλωλε δὲ πίονα ἔργα,

δυσμενέων δ' ἀνδρῶν πλεῖος δόμος, οἵ τέ μοι αἰεὶ

μῆλ' ἁδινὰ σφάζουσι καὶ εἰλίποδας ἕλικας βοῦς.

My house is being eaten up, the rich fields are being ruined, and the house is full of my enemies, who are always slaughtering masses of my sheep and shambling black cattle.

Telemachus here focuses on his house and lands, his herds of sheep and oxen. Significantly, if we turn back to the same account in Pylos, the main point was the suitors’ hubris (3.205–7):

αἲ γὰρ ἐμοὶ τοσσήνδε θεοὶ δύναμιν περιθεῖεν,

τείσασθαι μνηστῆρας ὑπερβασίης ἀλεγεινῆς,

οἵ τέ μοι ὑβρίζοντες ἀτάσθαλα μηχανόωνται.

If only the gods would invest me with as much strength, for me to punish the suitors for their painful transgression; they are violent and are laying wicked plans against me.

The ‘painful transgression’ is the suitors’ hubris (ὑβρίζοντες); ‘as much strength’ refers to Orestes, whose example Telemachus is eager to emulate. Indeed, Menelaus, too, makes a comparison between the two young princes (4.546–7).

Menelaus, Helen, and their palace are good representatives of the third of our three categories: productivity and economy. The marriages have first of all a reproductive function; the feasts and banquets aim to exhibit wealth, as do the gifts, which are an essential part of Homeric economy. Helen's daughter is compared to Aphrodite, the goddess of love, and, therefore, of reproduction and fertility.⁴⁶ Helen herself was the gift of Aphrodite to Paris in the Iliad’s background myth (Il. 24.25–30). Here in the Odyssey (4.122) she is compared to Artemis, whose epithet χρυσηλακάτῳ seems to mean ‘with golden distaff’ in this particular context, linking her particularly to the semantic field of craftsmanship, therefore productivity.⁴⁷

At the end of the book, Menelaus acknowledges Telemachus’ manners and skills in speaking, and attributes them to his nobility of birth (4.611–12). In the same way as Nestor had already done before him, Menelaus confirms the young prince's royal character.

What conclusions can we draw from all these considerations? Telemachus has undertaken a journey during which, through examples of good basileis, he has been introduced to the heroic world and its manners. The gradual awakening of his royal prerogatives started in Ithaca, thanks to Athena's first encouragement, in the first confrontation with the suitors and other Ithacans. He then moved to Pylos, where he became acquainted with the treatment of gods and eloquence, thanks to Nestor and Peisistratus’ examples. Finally, in Sparta, he had the opportunity to appreciate the wealth and prosperity of the heroic world at peace, resultant from the good ways of government that Telemachus’ exempla represent.⁴⁸

Telemachus can now be sure that following Nestor's and Menelaus’ examples, confirming some characteristics he already had, he will be able to be a good basileus. Nevertheless, he still cannot be it. One fundamental requirement is still missing: the warrior function. This aspect of the Homeric basileus was highly insisted on at the beginning of the Odyssey, when Telemachus was in Ithaca. In fact, it would be more accurate to state that the absence of the warrior element was explicitly highlighted in our introductory books.

Since the first appearance of Athena to the young prince, the goddess has been presented as a warrior (1.99–101). When she arrives at the palace in Ithaca, she lays her ‘warrior spear’ (ἄλκιμον ἔγχος) near to Odysseus’ (1.126–9). This gesture subtly suggests that the goddess shares her warrior trait with Telemachus’ father. Further on, Athena speaks of Odysseus as a warrior, seeing him as the only solution against the suitors (1.255–66). She then suggests for the first time that Telemachus should follow Orestes’ example to achieve the same kleos as him, one based on a violent action, implemented by force. Telemachus, too, like Orestes, must be ἄλκιμος, that is, ‘brave’ in a warrior sense (1.301–2), something that Telemachus still is not. The warrior element is absent in him, and this fact is emphasized in the course of the narrative by the contrast with Athena (in the guise of a Taphian warrior), by the memory of Odysseus’ qualities, and by Orestes’ example.

But if Nestor and Menelaus can only reassure the young prince on the importance of piety and wealth, who is going to be his exemplum for the warrior skills he is lacking? The most obvious answer can be the right answer in this case: his father, Odysseus. We may notice, at this point, the importance of the parallel with Odysseus in the formation of the heroic identity of the young prince. The fact that Telemachus’ ultimate term of comparison is his father is suggested by the single narrative structures of Book 3 and Book 4. In both, the accounts about Odysseus have a central position, between an introduction and an end highly connoted by the characteristics of each book (that is, piety in the third, feasts and wealth in the fourth).⁴⁹ It is precisely from those accounts that Telemachus can learn about his father's ‘action and speech’, and take him as an exemplum. Certainly, not only Nestor, but both Menelaus and Helen compare Telemachus to Odysseus (even before his identity is revealed to them).

Indeed, Odysseus is constantly described as a warrior not only in the first four books, but in the course of the whole poem.⁵⁰ He has been one of the generals during the Trojan war. Despite the fact that he is not the same kind of warrior as Achilles, whose best quality is his bie (‘force’), one of the main themes of the Odyssey is the presentation of the protagonist's particular ability, his metis (‘guile’), as an equal quality for an epic warrior and hero.⁵¹ In the younger poem we can observe a sort of ‘revision of the heroic “ideal”’, as Heath wrote, insofar as it shows a post-war world.⁵²

So Telemachus is often matched to his father's qualities, and particularly to his metis or dolos (‘trickery’; for instance in 3.118–25). This link is already present in Athena's suggestion, when the goddess for the first time establishes the parallel between Telemachus and Orestes: Telemachus must kill the suitors ἠὲ δόλῳ ἢ ἀμφαδόν, that is, ‘by craft or openly’ (1.296). Some scholars have indeed insisted on the fact that the ultimate goal in Telemachus’ growth is to become ‘cunningly intelligent’ like his father. He must become pepnumenos, or polumekhanos (‘full of contrivances’), this consisting primarily of knowing when to use his speech and action (ergon te kai epos) correctly and effectively, and when to hide his intentions instead.⁵³ That was exactly his problem in front of the suitors in the first assembly in Ithaca: despite his intentions and his discourse, he did not accomplish anything, apart from being mocked by Antinous (2.85–6).

It seems clear, then, that the ultimate scope of Athena's plan was to make a warrior out of the young, weak prince, after having introduced him to the heroic world at peace. This would have been necessary for the decisive moment of the revenge against the suitors, which Telemachus would have had to carry out with or without his father (1.265–97).⁵⁴ Since the first books, though, one could deduce that the young prince would have joined his father in the final revenge. In particular, it was the omen of the two eagles sent to Telemachus by Zeus, and interpreted by Halitherses (2.146–67), that suggested the final united position of father and son in the killing of the suitors, although at that point the final result of Telemachus’ growth was only subtly hinted at by the poet.⁵⁵

We now have the answer to our initial question: Why can Telemachus not be king? Because of his lack of those warrior skills and attitudes that a basileus must show. On his return to Ithaca from the Peloponnese, we can see a different Telemachus, more responsible and independent, who is now sure of his lineage and of his duties.⁵⁶ With this new attitude he is ready to complete his maturation, meeting his father and joining him as a worthy ally against the suitors. Indeed, once reunited with Odysseus in Ithaca, Telemachus will see and experience not only the use of his metis, but also of violence in battle against enemies (even though in particular circumstances for a battle).⁵⁷ The absence of the warrior element will be then finally filled in, and Telemachus will have met all the requirements.

So, the Telemachy might indeed represent a sort of education or growth for Odysseus’ son, who is introduced to the heroic world he belongs to. This education is carried out by examples of good kingship, observed by the young prince, organized into three groups of functional requirements: the warrior skills, the sacred and ‘civic’ functions, and the economic status. Naturally, Telemachus’ paideusis is not all what the first four books of the Odyssey are about, but it seems to be a significant theme, and one worthy of consideration in regard to our conceptions of Homeric kingship.