6.85-126

Her bedroom has the golden doors that often signal sexual potential, but the two maidens sleeping outside offer protection for her innocence. That shield fails to keep Athena out, however, and the goddess stirs the young princess’s curiosity about marriage, both as a social institution and, in a more submerged way, as the entrance into sexual maturity. She aims to be a “good girl,” who wants to help her father and brothers look presentable. But at Athena’s urging, she also hopes to make herself ready for marriage, a motive that her father immediately recognizes. She drives happily off for a washing party and picnic with her ἀμφίπολοι, her virginity protected on the way by her “lofty” wagon.

At the river, all is innocence and purity: sparkling clear water, clothes and girls washed clean and dried in the sun. After lunch, the fun continues as the girls play a game of catch and Nausicaa leads them in a song, which reminds the poet of Artemis and her handmaidens:

οἵη δ᾽ Ἄρτεμις εἶσι κατ᾽ οὔρεα ἰοχέαιρα,
ἢ κατὰ Τηΰγετον περιμήκετον ἢ Ἐρύμανθον,
τερπομένη κάπροισι καὶ ὠκείῃς ἐλάφοισι·
τῇ δέ θ᾽ ἅμα νύμφαι, κοῦραι Διὸς αἰγιόχοιο,
ἀγρονόμοι παίζουσι, γέγηθε δέ τε φρένα Λητώ·
πασάων δ᾽ ὑπὲρ ἥ γε κάρη ἔχει ἠδὲ μέτωπα,
ῥεῖά τ᾽ ἀριγνώτη πέλεται, καλαὶ δέ τε πᾶσαι·
ὣς ἥ γ᾽ ἀμφιπόλοισι μετέπρεπε παρθένος ἀδμής.

As Artemis the arrow-shooter goes through the mountains
over lofty Taygetos or majestic Erymanthos
delighting in the wild boars and swift deer,
and with her, nymphs, daughters of aegis-bearing Zeus,
range over the wilds, playing, and Leto is delighted,
for the head and brows of Artemis rise above all the others,
and she is easily distinguished, though all are beautiful.
So the unwed virgin shown forth among the maidens.

Odyssey 6.102–9

The simile underscores Nausicaa’s virginal purity and also her godlike beauty. Beyond that, the regal bearing we associate with a goddess imbues the young princess with enhanced dignity. She is a young girl who likes to play catch, but she is also a member of Phaeacian royalty. The gravitas carried in the latter role will slowly emerge as she takes charge of the needy stranger.

Virgil channels this latter quality in his reworking of Homer’s simile, describing Aeneas’ first glimpse of the Carthaginian queen Dido as she inspects new building projects:

Quālis in Eurōtae rīpīs aut per iuga Cynthī
exercet Dīāna chorōs, quam mīlle secūtae
hinc atque hinc glomerantur Orēades; illa pharetram
fert umerō gradiēnsque deās superēminet omnēs
(Lātōnae tacitum pertemptant gaudia pectus):
tālis erat Dīdō, tālem sē laeta ferēbat
per mediōs īnstāns operī rēgnīsque futūrīs.

As Diana, on the banks of Eurotas and the peaks of Cynthus,
leads the chorus, and a thousand mountain nymphs
follow her, joined together here and there; she carries
a quiver on her shoulder and strides towering over all;
and joy courses through the quiet heart of Leto.
So Dido strode happily through the crowd,
intent upon the work and her future realm.

Aeneid 1.498–504

Dido seems an unlikely match for a young girl in the grip of new emotions, but Virgil will show her eventually undone by love, used cynically by Juno and Venus, wandering distracted through Carthage. Dido is perhaps the Roman poet’s most striking creation. A tragic casualty of Roman destiny, she is regal and dignified but finally destroyed by the madness of her love for Aeneas. As he so often does, Virgil has pushed beyond the surface of Homer’s portrait, attuned to a part of Nausicaa that is muted at first but resonates later in Penelope’s struggle to resolve the competing forces within herself: the awakening desire to move out of her numbed withdrawal in response to the chaos in Ithaka and the flickering hope that Odysseus might still return. The Odyssey cannot accommodate Roman gravitas, but Penelope’s resourcefulness and determination show an inner strength that Virgil drew on in creating his heroine.

The game of catch winds down and Nausicaa begins to think about heading home, but Athena has other plans. This whole expedition, we are now reminded, was her initiative, and she now moves toward her ultimate goal: Nausicaa must meet Odysseus and lead him to the palace. The princess’s last toss goes astray, the maids shout, the hero wakes up and ponders:

"ἦ ῥ᾽ οἵ γ᾽ ὑβρισταί τε καὶ ἄγριοι οὐδὲ δίκαιοι,
ἦε φιλόξεινοι καί σφιν νόος ἐστὶ θεουδής;
ὥς τέ με κουράων ἀμφήλυθε θῆλυς ἀϋτή:
νυμφάων, αἳ ἔχουσ᾽ ὀρέων αἰπεινὰ κάρηνα
καὶ πηγὰς ποταμῶν καὶ πίσεα ποιήεντα.
ἦ νύ που ἀνθρώπων εἰμὶ σχεδὸν αὐδηέντων;
ἀλλ᾽ ἄγ᾽ ἐγὼν αὐτὸς πειρήσομαι ἠδὲ ἴδωμαι."

"Oh no! What sort of people are these, whose land I’ve reached?
Are they arrogant, fierce, and lacking in justice?
Or kind to strangers, with intelligence like the gods’?
That’s the voice of girls wafting around me,
or nymphs, who haunt the steep summits of the mountains
and springs of rivers and grassy meadows.
Am I near people who speak my language?
Come now, I’ll try to see for myself."

Odyssey 6.119–26

We know the voices come from girls, but the poet’s simile has added a mythical penumbra, as Nausicaa and her playmates cavort against a numinous backdrop. In his quandary, Odysseus ranges around the boundaries of human and divine, always a source of energy in the poem. The phrase ἀμφήλυθε θῆλυς ἀυτή (122) recalls the alluring music of Calypso, mysterious sounds that surround the hero and blur the clean edges of consciousness, having the power to distract him from his mission. (See Book 5.43–91 essay) Male bards like Phemius and Demodokus offer stories of the Trojan War, full of paradigms for masculine heroism. This other kind of singing, which Odysseus has heard coming from Circe’s house and the island of the Sirens, is always dangerous. Nausicaa will indeed be a threat to Odysseus. But as we are about to learn, he could also be dangerous to her.

Further Reading

Austin, N. 1975. Archery at the Dark of the Moon, 193–194; 202–203. Berkeley: University of California Press.

Gross, N. 1976. “Nausicaa: A Feminine Threat.” Classical World 69: 311–317.

Mackie, H. 1997. “Song and Storytelling: An Odyssean Perspective.” Transactions of the American Philological Association 127: 77–95.

Nagler, M. 1977. “Dread Goddess Endowed With Speech.” Archaeological News 6: 77–85.

Van Nortwick, T. 1992. Somewhere I Have Never Travelled: The Second Self and the Hero’s Journey in Ancient Epic, 100–19. New York: Oxford University Press1.

———. 2008. The Unknown Odysseus: Alternate Worlds in Homer’s Odyssey, 27–28. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press.

Wohl, V. 1993. “Standing by the Stathmos: The Creation of Sexual Ideology in the Odyssey." Arethusa 26: 19–46.