Homer's Iliad: Its Composition and the Motif of Supplication 9783666251795, 3525251793, 9783525251799

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HYPOMNEMATA 81

HYPOMNEMATA UNTERSUCHUNGEN ZUR ANTIKE UND ZU IHREM NACHLEBEN

Herausgegeben von Albrecht Dihle/Hartmut Erbse/Christian Habicht Hugh Lloyd-Jones/Günther Patzig/Bruno Snell

HEFT 81

VANDENHOECK & RUPRECHT IN GÜTTINGEN

AGATHE THORNTON

Homer's Iliad: its Composition and the Motif of Supplication

VANDENHOECK & RUPRECHT IN GÖTTINGEN

CIP-Kurztitelaufriahme Thornton,

der Deutschen

Bibliothek

Agathe:

Homer's Iliad: its composition and the motif of supplication / Agathe Thornton. - Göttingen: Vandenhoeck und Ruprecht, 1984. (Hypomnemata; Η. 81) ISBN 3-525-25179-3

NE: GT

Gedruckt mit Unterstützung des Förderungsfonds Wissenschaft der VG Wort © Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht in Göttingen 1984 - Printed in Germany. Ohne ausdrückliche Genehmigung des Verlages ist es nicht gestattet, das Buch oder Teile daraus auf foto- oder akustomechanischem Wege zu vervielfältigen. Satz: Dörlemann-Satz GmbH & Co. KG, Lemförde. Druck: Hubert & Co., Göttingen

Preface My warmest thanks for encouragement and constructive criticism over many years go to my former colleagues Professor R. G. Mulgan (Otago University, Dunedin) and Mr. I. M. Lonie (Dunedin), further to Dr. Ruth Finnegan (Open University, London) and the late Colin Macleod (Christ Church, Oxford). I am very grateful to Professor Μ. M. Willcock (University College, London) who has read my manuscript and given me the benefit of detailed criticism. Any faults that remain are, of course, my own. I thank Christiane Wagner, student at Bonn University, for her meticulous work on a difficult manuscript and my former colleague, Mr. R. N. A. Hankey (Otago University) for his help with the Indices. To Professor H. Erbse (Rheinische Friedrich Wilhelms-Universität, Bonn) I owe a particular debt of gratitude for encouraging my work in its final stages and supporting it in the matter of publication. On the financial side, I should like to thank the University of Otago (Dunedin, New Zealand) for several research grants which allowed me to buy the books I needed, and further, "VG Wort" who have made the publication of this work possible by their generosity. For the sake of those reading or teaching the Iliad in English, Lattimore's translation has been used whenever possible. Greek names are given in an English form with as much consistency as possible. The manuscript was closed in 1980. Finally, I am deeply grateful to my late husband for the stimulus and wealth of ideas that his wide-ranging mind always brought to me. University of Otago Dunedin, New Zealand

Agathe Thornton

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Contents Introduction: The place of Homer's Iliad in the early history of Greek literature; the question of literacy

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Part I: The singer and his work

Chapter 1: The singer's position and performance in his society . .

23

Chapter 2: The character of the performance; singer and audience

33

Chapter 3: The 'plan' of the Iliad, and its dramatic effect

46

Part II: Homer's craft in the Iliad

Chapter 4: Indication of 'goals' Chapter 5: Motif-sequences and their repetition with variation

67 . .

Chapter 6: Motif-elements and 'formulae' Chapter 7:'Appositional expansions'

73 93 104

Part III: The 'theme' of the Iliad, and its execution

Chapter 8: The nature of 'supplication', and the four supplicationsequences in the Iliad

113

Chapter 9: Agamemnon and the Achaeans as the 'suppliants'; Achilles as the 'supplicated'

125

Some reflections in conclusion

143

Appendix 1: The meaning of οϊμη

148

Appendix 2: Homer's Trojan plain

150

Appendix 3: In defense of the Doloneia

164

Appendix 4:'Supplication'among the Limba of Sierra Leone . . .

170 7

Bibliography

172

Index of important topics and names

178

Index of interpreted passages

181

Index of Greek words

182

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Introduction The place of Homer's Iliad in the early history of Greek literature; the question of literacy It seems desirable by way of introduction to make explicit my own position in the Homeric field in a coherent argued way. For this purpose, I want to consider two questions concerning the composition of the Iliad. First, what is the place of Homer's Iliad in the early history of Greek literature? A brief consideration of his achievement in that poem will most readily lead to some apprehension of what may have preceded and what followed him. Secondly what is the part, if any, played by writing in Homer's work? Here, it is essential to distinguish between the activities of composing, and of recording what has been composed. It must, however, be clearly understood that with the scanty evidence at our disposal, a discussion of these matters will necessarily be speculative. Homer's outstanding achievement in the Iliad (and the Odyssey) is by many scholars considered to be its 'monumental' size. According to G. S. Kirk, 'The Iliad and Odyssey far exceed the normal and natural length of oral compositions, and each presupposes an unusual motive and a deliberate intention on the part of an individual to create a definitely monumental structure.' 1 The Iliad is about 1 6 0 0 0 lines long, the Odyssey about 12 000. While Kirk, Lord and others believe that the Iliad was composed orally 2 , Dirlmeier and others assume that 'poetry on the scale of the Homeric epics is conceivable only on the basis of writing.' 3 It has become plain however that the size of the Homeric epics is quite moderate in comparison with Central Asiatic oral epics. The Karakalpak epic 'The Forty Maidens', recorded from a singer who died in 1957, comprizes about 2 0 0 0 0 verses. 4 An Uzbek singer, by the end of his life, knew 70 epics (dastans), the longest of which was also about 2 0 0 0 0 verses. In comparison with these, the Kirghiz Manas is indeed monu-

1 Kirk, Songs (1962) 159, 280f., and see index under Iliad, s.v. monumental; Homer and the Oral Tradition (1976) 203; Else, Homeric Problem 29; Nagy, The Best of the Achaeans 18. 2 Lord, Singer of Tales, Part I; Kirk, Songs, Part II and passim. 3 Dirlmeier, Das serbokroatische Heldenlied 19. 4 Chadwick and Zhirmunsky, Oral Epics of Central Asia 282.

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mental, and exceeds in length even the Sanscrit Mahabharata. Two versions of the Manas recorded from early twentieth century singers are both about 250 000 verses long.5 These figures speak for themselves. Another, and contrasted view of Homer's achievement in the Iliad is expressed by Heubeck in his description of its structure and what it presupposes: Homer strove 'to place one single happening into the centre and to shape the abundance of episodic material by constant reference to that central theme.'6 He believes that the Iliad was preceded by a mighty epic chronicle comprizing, in stringing-along order, all the events of the Trojan War from its beginnings with the Judgement of Paris and the building of the Trojan Walls to the return of the heroes after the war.7 While the Iliad is primarily concerned with the events delimited by the wrath of Achilles, it is also an Iliad, that is, a song about Troy and its fate. For, the beginning and end of the War and innumerable other episodes from outside the narrow confines of the wrath itself are included in a variety of ways.8 It is reasonable to conclude that a straight-forward chronicling epic preceded the complex construction of Homer's Iliad.9 It is not likely that this epic about the Trojan War was as huge as the Manas of twentieth century Kirghizia or the Mahabharata of Sanscrit India, but it would be similar to them in its comprehensive nature. 10 It is however also possible to assume that the Iliad was preceded, not by a comprehensive epic, but by a sequence of stories, - whether told

Chadwick and Zhirmunsky, 2 7 9 ff., 3 2 5 ; more detail in Hatto, 'Kirghiz Epic' 97 n. 8. Heubeck, Odyssee-Dichter 88, 90, Homerische Frage 1 4 9 ; cf. Willcock, Companion 4. 7 Heubeck, Homerische Frage 148, 'Innere Form' Al, 43, Neuere Forschung, Wege d. Forschung 1979, 568; cf. Horace, Ars Poetica 136ff., and Heinze's commentary on the scriptor cyclicus; cf. Odysseus' story at the house of Aeolus κ 14 ff., Frankel, Dichtung 14. 8 Kulimann, Quellen 3 6 6 'In der Ilias erscheint in merkwürdiger Weise die erzählte Zeit des Kyklos in das Zeitschema der Ilias hinein gepresst.' He gives a list of correspondences. - For my argument, it makes no difference whether the epic cycle or parts of it are earlier or later than the Iliad. All this epic poetry is dependent on earlier epic tradition; cf. Fenik, Rhesus 14 η. 1; Snodgrass, 'Poet and Painter' 1 2 0 f . : Ί note from Jasper Griffin's persuasive article ('The Epic Cycle' 3 8 - 5 3 , esp. n. 9) that he accepts the arguments of Wilamowitz and Wackernagel for a relatively late date of composition, and follows Lesky in inclining towards the late seventh century as the absolute date for the version of the poems which later antiquity knew.' Kullmann 23 η. 1 believes that the Aethiopis and the Cypria predate the Iliad. 5 6

9 Kullmann, Quellen 365 ff., esp. 3 6 7 ; Kakridis, Researches 91 ff. distinguishes between 'chronographic' and 'dramatic' epic; Allen, Origins and Transmission 176 'a praeHomeric metrical chronicle'; Heubeck 'Neuere Forschung' 5 6 8 'such an epic' might be called 'chronological' or 'cyclic', not a written 'history', cf. Kullmann, 3 5 8 ff.; cf. Fenik, Rhesus 14. 1 0 Chadwick and Zhirmunsky, Oral Epics of Central Asia 3 0 4 about Manas; The Mahabharata, tr. and ed. by Buitenen, vol. I, intr. XXiii.

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informally in prose or sung in epic form - which implied a continuous story about Troy, its fate and the consequences. O n the other hand, the existence of the hexameter and the extent and firmness of Greek formulaic diction presuppose centuries of epic singing in the course of which a comprehensive epic like the one described may well have come to be composed. What then did Homer do in relation to that epic chronicle of many events or that traditional sequence of stories? He did more than select a section out of it. There is evidence in the Homeric epics themselves that selecting a section was common practice. In the Odyssey, Demodocus sings at the Phaeacian court the quarrel between Odysseus and Achilles from a very famous tale (θ 74 f.). We are not told what that famous tale is called or what it tells, but the 'quarrel' is clearly a part of it.11 In the same situation, Odysseus asks the bard to sing of the Wooden Horse (θ 492 ff.), and Demodocus begins with the simulated departure of the Achaeans and the 'Horse' standing on the Trojan acropolis, full of Achaeans hidden in it and surrounded by Trojans debating what to do with it. Here, the section of the actual Fall of Troy is chosen from the war as a whole. 12 The same procedure is found today in the performance of Malay Shadow Plays: 13 'The dalang (that is the puppeteer who corresponds to the Greek singer) will either begin a performance or series of performances at the beginning of the story, as is usual with the shorter stories, or he will commence from a point requested by the host or decided by himself, as is usually the case with the basic repertoire, a local version of the great Indian epic, the Ramayana, of which a complete representation may take as long as two months to perform with the dalang performing for three hours per night'. 14 In the προοίμια of both Homeric epics, the M u s e is asked to begin from a specific starting-point, namely the quarrel between Agamemnon and Achilles in the Iliad, and Odysseus' experiences after his companions have perished in the Odyssey. But the use which Homer made of this traditional device is highly sophisticated. He did more than select a section out of a traditional sequence of events. He chose the Wrath of Achilles, and through this theme the events relevant to the Wrath; and he further selected other events from the wider story of the Trojan War to serve the presentation of that theme within its brief compass of events. That theme is also more universal than any particular events ever could be: a human pas11 Ο ΐ μ η ς = 'aus dem Liedergange (Liederkreise)', Ameis-H.-C., Partitiver Genetiv; Pagliaro, Saggi 34, 39. 12 Cf. α 10 TÖV ά μ ό θ ε ν γε, θ ε ά . . - 9 500 έ ν θ ε ν έ λ ώ ν . . . , cf. also Appendix 3 on Doloneia 168 f. 13 For detail about the Malay Shadow Play cf. below 24. 14 Sweeney, Malay Shadow Puppets, 44; Ramayana 60.

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sion represented in its beginnings, its destructive course, and its tragic consequences for the man caught in this passion. The novelty and indeed singularity of Homer's conception is fully appreciated by Aristotle. According to him, Homer was the only one to make his epic 'dramatic', that is, a unified action with beginning, middle and end (poet. 1448 b35, 1459 al8ff.) by selecting one 'portion' (μέρος 1459 a35) out of the whole of the Trojan War and inserting into it many 'episodes' from other parts, for instance, the Ships' Catalogue and many others. In contrast to Homer, other epic poets dealt with one man, like Heracles 15 or Theseus (1459 a37, 1451 al6ff.), or one span of time and sequence of actions which however in each case comprized many diverse parts (1459 bl). 1 6 Aristotle also praises Homer as the only poet who cut down on narration and represented his characters to a large extent by their speeches. About two thirds of the Iliad consist of speeches. 17 Both these innovations are consequences of Homer choosing the wrath of Achilles for his theme. By focussing on a particular character who embodies a universal problem in human nature Homer has created the inner, spiritual conditions for the emergence of tragedy. Plato saw this and called him the 'father of tragedy'. 18 Other epic poets do not seem to have followed Homer on this road, as far as our scanty knowledge permits us to judge. 19 The Argonautica of Apollonius of Rhodes is the only extant Greek epic after Homer from the times before Christ. It belongs to the third century B. C. when the flower of Greek tragedy is passed, and a quantitative notion of time has been developed. 20 The events of the journey and the heroes' exploits are told in strictly chronological order. It would be better then to call Homer's Iliad 'dramatic epic' and so to distinguish it from 'epic', properly speaking. This distinction would, I believe, set a perspective for a comparison between the Homeric poem and the great oral epics of Central Asia, Mongolia and India which will surely be made when versions of those epics become generally available. 21 15 The 'extraordinarily motley collection of exploits' which might have been represented in an epic about Heracles is indicated by Snodgrass, 'Poet and Painter' 121. 1 6 Cf. Lattimore, Translation of the Iliad, intr. 16 f., Schadewaldt, Aufiau 39. 1 7 Schadewaldt, Aufiau 3 9 'Gut zwei Drittel der ganzen Ilias sind Reden.' Camps, Introduction 17: about half of the total of Iliad and Odyssey. Cf. also Griffin, "The Epic Cycle' 49, for the 'dry manner of indirect reporting' in the Thebaid. 1 6 Lesley, Tragische Dichtung 4 7 f . ; Heubeck. 'Innere Form' 4 7 ; Else, Aristotle's Poetics 572, 620. 1 9 Cf. Monro, Commentary on Od. 1 3 - 2 4 , Appendix III; Huxley, Greek Epic Poetry; cf. also Griffin, "The Epic Cycle' 3 9 ff. 2 0 Thornton, Time and Style 101 f. 2 1 Hatto, 'Kirghiz Epic' 9 6 speaks of 'exciting epic-dramatic plots' of O l d Kirghiz epic'. A comparison of these with the Homeric epics might be very interesting.

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The a n s w e r to o u r second question about the role of writing

in

H o m e r ' s w o r k - if i n d e e d it h a d a n y p a r t in it - h a s until r e c e n t l y div i d e d H o m e r i c s c h o l a r s a s d e e p l y , if n o t a s f i e r c e l y , a s t h e old c o n t r o v e r s y b e t w e e n ' u n i t a r i a n s ' a n d ' a n a l y s t s ' . T h e q u e s t i o n , in its u s u a l f o r m u l a t i o n , is w h e t h e r H o m e r c o m p o s e d o r a l l y , t h a t is, i m p r o v i s e d in performing or whether he c o m p o s e d with the help of writing, and then p e r f o r m e d orally what he had so c o m p o s e d . English-speaking scholars f o l l o w t h e first l i n e 2 2 , m o s t G e r m a n s c h o l a r s t h e s e c o n d line, a l t h o u g h a c h a n g e is u n d e r w a y initiated b y L e s k y ' s i n t e r e s t in t h e p r o b l e m 2 3 . T h e r e a s o n f o r t h e c o n v i c t i o n t h a t H o m e r c o m p o s e d in w r i t i n g is t h e r e c o g n i t i o n o f t h e c o m p l e x s t r u c t u r e o f t h e Iliad, d e m o n s t r a t e d b y S c h a d e w a l d t in h i s Iliasstudien.

L e s k y d e s c r i b e s it 'as a t e c h n i q u e o f p r e p a r a t i o n ,

r e t a r d a t i o n a n d c o n n e c t i o n d o w n i n t o detail w h i c h , b y its f o r m , r a i s e s the H o m e r i c p o e m , above a layer of traditional-typical narration, into a great w o r k o f art.' H e u b e c k describes the p r o c e s s e s of the poet's mind c r e a t i n g s u c h a p o e m in t h e f o l l o w i n g w a y : 'An epic in which a single, all-embracing idea, one thought organizing the material down to the last ramifications had to be pursued throughout, could not be created by way of improvisation of however great a genius, at one impetus, so to speak (in einem Anlauf sozusagen); it must habe been worked out over a longer span of time in which the poet planned, sketched, filled out his thought-out framework in ever new attempts, by the formation of individual pieces, making connections and setting down markers, improving and rejecting, polishing and smoothing, until it had reached the shape which corresponded to his idea.' 24 A n d all this, H e u b e c k b e l i e v e s , c o u l d n o t h a v e b e e n d o n e e x c e p t in w r i t i n g . T h i s j u d g e m e n t - w h i c h is s h a r e d b y m a n y 2 5 - r e s t s o n a n e x c e s s i v e l y rigid n o t i o n o f e x c l u s i v e n e s s o f ' i m p r o v i s i n g ' a n d ' r e m e m b e r -

2 2 The idea that formulaic style proves oral composition is in the process of being given up, cf. Russo, 'Homer's Formulaic Style' 47 ff. Cf. Finnegan, Oral Poetry 69 ff., Haymes, Das mündliche Epos, 14 ff. 23 Lesky, 'Mündlichkeit und Schriftlichkeit im Homerischen Epos'; cf. on the whole matter Patzer, Dichterische Kunst und poetisches Handwerk 1 ff. 24 Heubeck, 'Blick auf die neuere Forschung' 570. For the reverse argument cf. Camps, Introduction 15 'But we do know that throughout the period of time within which the Iliad and Odyssey were made the means of writing available, if they were available at all, were so cumbrous as to be no help for composition on this scale; so that the shaping and reshaping and improving of the poems must have been done by memory in the poet's head.' Cf. also 82. 25 Kakridis, Homer Revisited 19 'Homer stands far above these improvisers (this refers to 'the improvised epics of the Jugoslavs'). His work cannot reasonably be accepted as a variation of the countless, ever changing, improvised oral performances of the same poem fortuitously written down.' Kakridis does not in what follows distinguish between composing and writing down the completed poem but (20) sees the difficulties of assuming writing. He names 12 scholars who share his opinion, including Heubeck. For a full bibliography on the 'Oral Poetry Theory' cf. Latacz, Homer 573-618. Cf. Eisenberger, Odyssee 327.

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ing' in a performance. Lord, continuing Milman Parry's work, had shown that each performance of a Yugoslav singer is a new creation, fashioned by traditional means, but in each case improvised afresh and in that form unrepeatable. 26 Such composition-in-performance 2 7 , it is thought, does not permit of the extensive interconnections and often subtle references backwards and forwards in as long a poem as the Iliad. There are however cases in which an oral poet does not compose his poems as he is performing them. Among the African Somali 28 , poetry which is oral is highly valued and much discussed which means that the bard faces an intensely interested and also critical audience. In consequence, '"Somali poets rarely perform their work until composition is completely finished in private" and "spend many hours, sometimes even days, composing their works" before they perform them'. 29 Obviously, the performance of these poems proceeds by way of remembering what was previously composed, orally. It might be said, as Finnegan does 30 , that 'lengthy epic poetic narrations, lasting over several hours or nights of performance, are naturally likely to fit the model of composition-inperformance given by Parry and Lord.' But such a conclusion is by no means necessary. Let us consider two pairs of versions of the 'Sunjata' epic, a poem about the hero Sunjata from the Manding area of West Africa discussed by Finnegan. 31 O n the one hand, two brothers trained by their father and the younger one helped by the older brother both came to be 'regarded as outstanding performers'. As Finnegan says, 'Starting presumably from the same repertoire, their performances differed in the ground covered in two major incidents, and in a number of details.' They also adapted their versions to the members of the audience present on particular occasions. All this could be understood as the product of improvisation with traditional means on each occasion. These versions of the Sunjata epic from two different bards contrast however with two versions recorded from one leading singer in the Gambia when he was in his seventies. The two versions are closely similar, and in places word-for-word identical. 32 According to Innes 33 , 26 Lord, Singer of Tales ch. 5 'Songs and the Song'; cf. Nagler, Spontaneity XXi 'The oral poet is one w h o , at the m o m e n t of performance, makes s p o n t a n e o u s , and therefore original realizations of inherited, traditional impulses.' 27 Finnegan's term 18. 28 Finnegan 73 f. 19 Finnegan 74, quoting f r o m Johnson Johnson 28 and Andrzejewki and Lewis 45. For 'premeditation' compare also Douglas Young, 'Never blotted a line?' 299. 30 Finnegan 78. 31 Finnegan 75 ff., using Innes, 'Stability and change in griots' narrations'; Finnegan, 'What is Oral Literature anyway?' 148 ff. 32 For examples of texts see Innes, op. cit., and Finnegan, Oral Poetry 76f. 33 Cf. Innes 111.

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'the reason for the similarity in the form of the two versions is presumably to be found in the fact that Bamba was an old man when these recordings were made, and as one of the Gambia's leading griots he would often relate the Sunjata legend, hence he had probably related it many times and his relation, through frequent repetition, had become relatively fixed.' 34 The picture which emerges for Innes of the development of the bard's poems is this: . . a griot (i. e. bard) in his younger days travels extensively, listens to other griots and borrows selectively from them, repeatedly modifying his own version until eventually he arrives at a version which seems to him the most satisfying. With repetition, this version will become more or less fixed, and even the words will tend to become fixed to some extent. But even this version will of course vary from performance to performance, depending upon such factors as who happens to be present and in whose honour the performance is being given.' 35

But since the poems of the Somali singers are comparatively short comprizing only several hundred lines containing 'at least some element of narration' 36 , it might be objected that these poems are too short to be relevant to the Homeric epics. There is however similar evidence about a much longer oral poem from Sumatra in S. Hugronje's account of the Achehnese. 37 Hugronje's text is so circumstantial and instructive that I will give it in full: 'Dökarim (i.e. Abdulkarim) of Glumpa . . . is the composer of this hikayat (sal. heroic narrative). Writer we may not call him, for he can neither read nor write. He went on as he tells us for five years gradually composing this poem in celebration of the heroic deeds of the Achehnese in their conflict against the Dutch 38 , adding fresh matter from time to time as he gained enlightenment from eye-witnesses. The popularity which he quickly won and which led him to recite the poem constantly for the sake of the handsome presents he received for doing so, saved it from being lost, although for the time being it was preserved in his memory alone.

Cf. Bartlett, Remembering 93; cf. below 73 f. Innes 118; cf. Kiparsky 'Oral Poetry' 95 about Finnish singers: 'Interestingly enough, a son's version of a song frequently differs in more substantial ways from that of his father, who can be assumed to have taught it to him . . . What all this suggests is that each individual singer works out his own arrangement of a song, which perhaps at first is relatively fluid, but then crystallizes into a stable form, which changes only gradually over the years as new elements are incorporated here and there and others are dropped.' In view of Aristotle's appraisal of the uniqueness of Homer's achievement, this pattern of events is much more likely to be true than what Kiparsky proposes for the Homeric epics, namely 'the collective elaboration of a fixed text out of a tradition of oral poetry' 103 and 104. 3 6 Finnegan, Oral Poetry 78. 37 Hugronje, The Achehnese vol. II lOOff., mentioned by Bowra, Heroic Poetry 441, reference to which I gratefully owe to my former colleague I. M. Lonie. 3 8 The war of the Dutch with the Achehnese began in 1873, cf. vol. I, X top. 34

35

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This does not prevent him from giving himself, at each recitation, licence to modify, add or omit as he thinks fit or from filling up the gaps from his really subtle poetic vein, whenever his memory fails him. We can here witness for ourselves one of the methods by which an Achehnese heroic poem is brought into the world. Some one man, who like most of his fellow countrymen knows by heart the classic descriptions of certain events and situations as expressed in verse by the people of the olden time, but whose knowledge, owing to his training and environment, is somewhat greater than that of others; one who is endowed, besides, with a good memory and enthusiasm for the poesy of his country, puts his powers to the test by celebrating in verse the great events of more recent years. Just as a literate poet reads his work again and again, and by the free use of his pen makes it conform more and more to the canons of art, so does our bard by means of incessant recitation. The events of which he sings have not yet reached their final development, so he keeps on adding, as occasion arises, fresh episodes to his poem. So it goes on, till at last some literate amateur writes out the epic at the dictation of its composer. By this means sundry faults and irregularities and overbold flights of imagination come to light, which, though a listener might overlook them, are not to be endured in a written hikayat. The copyist, with the full concurrence of the poet, gives himself license to make all the necessary corrections, and subsequent copyists or reciters take the like liberty. The Hikayat Prang Gompeum has only just entered on this last phase of development, for until I had it taken down from the poet's lips, there was not a single copy extant in writing; only one single Achehnese chief had caused a few fragments of it to be perpetuated by the pen. Thus it may be noticed here and there, in regard to the language in which the poem is at present couched, that the "latest hand" has not yet left its mark upon it.' (p. 117) 'At the same time it (sal. the poem) forms a remarkable example of the preservation of epic literature without the intermediary of writing. I can testify from my own experience that two recitations of this poem delivered by the author himself on two separate occasions, differed from one another as little as any two written copies of any Achehnese book.'

The length of this poem by Dokarim is not given, but the description of the contents covers pp. 103-116, and Hugronje says of another poem that it 'contains only about 2500 verses'. 39 The poem must be a substantial epic. 40 It might still be objected that the 'quality' of Homer's Iliad is likely to be far superior to any such oral epic from other parts of the world, a suHugronje, vol. II 99. With reference to Mongolian epic poetry, scholars speak of 'Kurzepos' (Asiat. Forschungen 54, Veit p. 7: 313 and 334 lines; p. 8: 241 lines; Asiat. Forsch. 60 Heissig p. 7: 381 and 696 lines. Eberhard, 'Zum Epos in China' 200 defines epos 'als eine Erzählung in einer gehobenen Sprache (aber nicht notwendiger Weise in Versen), die eine zusammenhängende Handlung in mehreren Episoden bringt, meistens das Leben eines oder mehrerer Helden von Geburt bis zum Tod. Dagegen bezeichnen wir die Erzählung einer einzigen Episode, in gehobener Sprache als "Ballade".' Cf. Heusler, Lied und Epos 27 distinguishes 'Epos' and 'Lied' by their different narrative-styles, contrasting 'liederhafte Knappheit' with 'epic breadth'. By 'Lied' he means a ballad or something like it. 39

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periority which would be supposed to imply writing, and that its superiority has in fact been demonstrated in relation to Serbo-Croat oral poetry. 41 This kind of objection must be radically rejected. It is surely not an arrogant judgement of a lover of Greece when it is maintained that Homer, the Greek tragedians, Plato and Aristotle, oral or written, have few peers in other cultures. Inferences from 'quality' to composition by writing are not justified. 42 Let us then return to Homer, and try to fit the griot's pattern of life to the life of Homer. The ancient Greek singer, as we shall see 4 3 , may have wandered from town to town, and even crossed the seas to other parts of the Aegaean world. This would be the time in Homer's life when his songs would vary greatly in content and detail of presentation, according to occasions of singing, according to those present to listen to him, according to what he heard from other singers, if he was not actually being trained by them, and according to his own growing judgement of what in poetry had excellence. He would sing something every day practising his craft of handling epic language in epic verse, just as a concert virtuoso daily works towards the perfection of his technique and understanding. 44 He might do this by himself or in the house of friends. We do not know. But something of this sort must be postulated; the craft of Homeric diction and composition is not acquired by rare performances. 45 In the course of years of singing, Homer would bring ever greater portions of his Iliad to a form which pleased his audience and satisfied him. Whichever part was successful he would repeat the same way, and the satisfaction of success and the consequent repetitions Dirlmeier, 22ff. Russo, 'Homer's Formulaic Style' 6 9 'There is a tendency for some of us who work with written texts to assume unconsciously that quality means written poetry.'; Havelock, Origins of Western Literacy 6 'It is a curious kind of cultural arrogance which presumes to identify human intelligence with literacy.' 4 3 Cf. below 25 f. 4 4 Hoekstra, 'Homeric modifications' 2 0 'The creation of the poems was not a single feat of improvising but was the result of elaborate and wellstudied composition, complete with rehearsal and reassertion of the "thematic unity"'. Cf. also 19. Goody, The Domestication of the Savage Mind 27 'My own experience would suggest that shorter songs are often composed, not in full-scale performances, but rather in practice sessions where a man has more opportunity to work out an idea - I am thinking specifically of the composition of songs for the xylophone among the LoDagaa of Northern Ghana.' The assumption that Homer 'practised' and in practising perfected and polished parts of his Iliad which he then sang within a performance of the whole in that form is reasonable, and would contribute to the fixing of his song. 4 5 Perhaps performances of, at least, parts of the Iliad were not all that rare. Cf. Sweeney, Ramayana 30, 'If a dalang is much in demand, he may expect to perform from February to August with few breaks, except for a day or two for travel and rest between bookings, and when performances are cancelled due to rain, a not infreqent occurrence. After August, the pace slackens somewhat until November when the monsoon arrives.' 41

42

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would gradually build up an increasingly highly-wrought, complex and - fixed form of the whole poem in his mind and memory. There remains the question of adaptation to the audience. We shall see that the Iliad in the form we have it was in all probability performed during three consecutive nights, or at a later stage days, each performance lasting about nine hours. It is not likely that any singer would often have the chance to sing in as regular time-spans as that. This suggests that the Iliad as we have it (or very nearly as we have it) was shaped by Homer for a particular occasion, such as a great festival; and there were such festivals in the eastern Aegaean world in Homer's time: the festival of Apollo on the island of Delos and the Panionia of Mycale. 46 The former festival is vividly described in the Homeric hymn to Delian Apollo. 47 It would be in the form fashioned by Homer for such festivals that the Iliad was best known and written down. If this account is anywhere near the truth, writing need have played no part in the composition of the Iliad with all its complexity. Why should Homer have wanted to use writing for his composition when oral composing offered him full scope for the development of his poetic ideas? But the preservation of his perfected poem might have been a different matter. 48 On the practical side, Heubeck49 argues plausibly that 'hides', that is, parchment may have been available for writing in the eighth century B.C., or even 'papyrus', introduced by trading Phoenicians in conjunc46 Thucydides III 104. 1, the island of Delos, sacred to Apollo was purified in 426 B.C., and on a less ambitious scale by Peisistratus in the sixth century. This indicates that the Delian festival to Apollo was very ancient. The altar of Apollo on Delos is already mentioned in ζ 162. 47 Cf. Wade-Gery, The Poet of the Iliad 3, 16f.; Wade-Gery believes that the Iliad was shaped for a panegyris (cf. also Schadewaldt, Iliasst. 163 f., η. 3 and reference to Gilbert Murray), not for a banquet, while Notopoulos, 'Studies' 13ff. holds the opposite view. W. Burkert, 'Kynaithos, Polycrates, and the Homeric Hymn to Apollo' has made it likely that the Delian and Delphic portions of the hymn were joined so that the hymn might, in that form, be performed at 'the Delian-Pythian festival of Polycrates at Delos, 522 B. C.' (p. 59, 61). This does not mean that the two portians are necessarily as late as that date. The 'blind man of Chios' must be Homer himself (not a Homerid); for, it is he 'all whose songs are the very best among posterity' (line 173, Burkert p. 57). This could not apply to 'an obscure, anonymous author'. Furthermore, as Burkert says (p. 61) 'the present tense of πωλείται (170) and οίκεΐ (172) suggests that the poet in question is alive and present, not a classical author of the past.' This implies at least a tradition of Homer having been present and active at a Delian festival. It suggests that the Delian part of the hymn was composed by Homer himself, as a whole or in part (cf. Thucydides III 104; Schadewaldt, Außau der Ilias, 23 f. I owe reference to this article to Professor H. Erbse.). 48 Dihle, Homerprobleme 111 f.; also Edwards, 'Some Features of Homeric Craftsmanship', 177 ff. 49 Heubeck, Schrift 153 ff.

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tion with the alphabet to be written on it. But none of the items Heubeck mentions as probably having been written on such perishable material and lost to us are extensive: lists of victors, laws50, lists of wares, accounts, even business letters. On the other hand, the skills of writing and reading, and of handling many sheets of parchment or papyrus in moving back and forth in composing a long written poem in the way described above 51 by Heubeck seem to presuppose an extended period of literacy and to be remote from the degree of literacy needed for practical purposes. The skills required for recording a finished poem however long would be closer to those employed in a practical context. According to Davison 52 , 'the coming of the alphabet to Greece led within a generation to a considerable outburst of activity among those literary men who had grasped the value of the new technique as a means of preserving literary works independently of the not always available (or, if available, not always reliable) human memory; and thenceforth it became standard practice for an author to have at least one copy made of his works . . . ' This is the conclusion which Heubeck reaches about Homer, although he unfortunately does not distinguish between 'composing a very extensive epic by means of writing' and 'depositing' such an epic in written form. 53 But when he comes to propose the writing of such an epic in concrete detail, he suggests that 'wealthy patrons within the aristocratic society' among whom and for whom Homer sang, might well have made it possible for him 'to give permanence to his work by writing it down and in that way to contribute to the strength of their own position and to the enhancement of their own glory and reputation'. Even if the cost of papyrus was high, - parchment probably being too expensive for a very long piece of writing - an aristocratic patron might well have been able to afford the cost. We can then assume that Homer may have written down his Iliad himself when he was old and famous and satisfied with the quality of every part of his poem which he knew by heart from his own living and growing along with it.54 Or else the Homeridae, his sons (and later guild of bards on Chios) may have written it down having often heard it performed. 55 'The Homeridai, the family of Homer, on the island of Chios, 50

Heubeck, Schrift 150. Cf. above 13. 52 Davison, 'Literature and Literacy' 151. 53 Heubeck, Schrift 159 f., cf. 149. 54 For the capacity of Gaelic taletellers in Scotland and Ireland to remember - without making any effort to learn - their stories so that they have virtually a 'fixed text' (not written) cf. Douglas Young, 'Never blotted a line?' 296f.; cf. Kirk, 'some confusions' 278. 55 I do not think that dictation was a means of recording in the early stages of writing. It would be much too slow in relation to the speed of oral performance. Differently Lord 'Oral dictated texts'. 51

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had', as Douglas Young points out 5 6 , 'in their possession in Plato's time (cf. Phaedrus 228b) what he calls άπό-9ετα §πη, "unpublished verses or poems or epics".' He goes on to suggest that 'it is conceivable that they possessed even in the fourth century copies of the Iliad and the Odyssey and other works in the handwriting of their ancestor Homer, if he personally wrote works down, or the original copies made from his dictation, if and when he may be supposed to have dictated . . . ' It is plausible, as Davison has argued 57 , that Hipparchus in the second half of the sixth century B.C. acquired a written copy of the Homeric epics from the Homeridae on Chios to be henceforth the foundation for the recitations at the Panathenaean Festival in Athens and, with some luck on our part, the source of our text of the Iliad.

Douglas Young, 'Never blotted a line?' 287. Davison, 'The transmission of the text' 220. It is necessary to remember what Eric Turner (Greek Papyri 106 £.) points out: 'Used to the cut and thrust of oral dialectic, the Greeks tended to be careless of exact quotation or copying. . . ' 56 57

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Parti The singer and his work 'For, singers have a claim to honour and respect among all men on earth, because the Muse teaches them paths of song, and she loves the tribe of singers.' Odyssey θ 479-81

Chapter 1 The singers position and performance in his society For the life and work of the Greek oral epic singer, the Homeric epics themselves are our most important source, partly in the pictures which Homer draws of singers in the course of his tales, partly in passages in which the poet speaks in his own person, that is, in the invocations to the Muses, and then again in indirect indications embedded in some Homeric words and their use. Another early source is the work of Hesiod, a contemporary more or less of Homer. 1 Hesiod's two poems are not epic tales. The Theogony is concerned with the origination of the world in the form of divine genealogies with short tales set into them; and The Works and Days are a piece of wisdom literature. But in the case of both poems, metre and dialect make it probable that they belonged to the same poetic tradition as the Homeric epics 2 and therefore can also be used as source material for the oral singer. 3 Another later source is a short Platonic dialogue called the Ion. The interlocutor of Socrates is the rhapsode Ion. This primary Greek material can also be supplemented by comparison with other, recent oral epic poetry. The work of Milman Parry and A.B. Lord who have studied the living oral epic poetry of modern Yugoslavia is well known. 4 A much vaster field of oral epic has been indicated to Western scholars by N. Chadwick and V. Zhirmunsky in Oral Epics of Central Asia.5 The third chapter of Part II deals with 'The Singers

1 West, Theogony, intr. 4 6 f . ; Notopoulos, 'Studies' 2 6 ; Huxley, Greek Epic Poetry 1 2 5 ; Peabody, The Winged Word 2 8 6 n. 2 4 : 'a somewhat archaic contemporary of the Homeric texts'. For Hesiod as later than Homer cf. Edwards, The Language of Hesiod 2 0 0 ff. 2 West, Theogony 79 {., Works 26. 3 On the question of writing West, Theogony 47 f.: 'Hesiod must, in any case, have been one of the first Greek poets to take the momentous step of writing his poems down, or more likely of dictating them to someone who knew how to write' etc. Works 5 8 f . : a more complex view. But Notopoulos, 'Homer, Hesiod and the Achaean Heritage' 177 ff. believes Hesiod's work to be oral poetry. 4 Lord, Singer of Tales; for Milman Parry's work cf. the account in Finnegan, Oral Poetry 58 ff. 5 Cf. Heissig, 'Gedanken zu einer strukturellen Motiv-Typologie des mongolischen Epos' 10 on the value of Russian and Mongolian epic sources for comparative research into oral narrative tradition.

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of Tales'. Considerable detail about the life and performance of Uzbek bards, in particular, is given in Uzbek Heroic Epos by Zhirmunsky and Zarifov. 6 A number of Kirghiz epics or epic episodes have been translated into German by Radlov7 and are discussed by H.T. Hatto in his paper 'Plot and Character in mid-nineteenth-century Kirghiz Epic'. 8 A more remote, but also comparable oral epic tradition is that of the shadow-plays of Malaysia and of Java. The content of these tales when they are traditional is a small portion out of the Malaysian or Javanese versions of either the Mahabharata or the Ramayana, the enormous ancient Sanskrit epics of India.9 The performer of a shadow-play is called dalang. What distinguishes him from the Homeric and Central Asiatic bards is that, instead of playing the lyre or the gusle, he is accompanied by an orchestra, the gamelan, consisting of a number of percussion and string instruments and a flute. Furthermore, he not only presents his tale in a highly dramatic fashion, using different voices for different characters, but he also acts out his story by means of puppets whose shadows are thrown onto a screen. The shadow-play is, in fact, a transitional form between epic and drama. The parallel with the Greek development postulated above is plain. 10 What do we know about the life of the singer and his position in society from the Homeric epics? The picture of the bard and his life which emerges is well known. But it is essential to present it again in order, on the one hand, to fill out the skeleton of the Homeric bard's life sketched in the introduction and, on the other, to give a concrete setting to what follows. 11 When the Achaean ambassadors, in the ninth book of the Iliad, approach Achilles, they find him 'enjoying himself with his lyre' and 'singing the fame of men' (I 186 ff.). Here, the greatest hero himself is the singer, and his subject is the subject of the heroic age, the glory of great fighters. 12 There are also in the Iliad professional singers, like those leading the lament for Hector (Ω 720; cf. Σ 606). In the Odyssey, Odysseus, the hero of the epic, telling his story is twice compared with a singer, first by Alcinous, king of the Phaeacians, 6

(Moscow 1947), quoted by Chadwick and Zhirmunsky, Oral Epics of Central Asia

284. Radioff, Proben der Volkslitteratur der nördlichen Türkischen Stämme, V. Hatto, Plot and Character. 9 Cf. Introduction 10. 10 Cf. Introd. 11 and 12. The sources I have used are: Clifford Geertz, The Religion of Java; Moebirman, Wayang Purwa, The shadow play of Indonesia; Soewito Santoso, The Javanese Shadow play (I owe knowledge of these two books to Rev. Dr. Ian Cairns); Sweeney, The Ramayana and the Malay Shadow-Play, and Malay Shadow Puppets, The Wayang Siam of Kelantan; Brandon, On Thrones of Gold, Three Javanese Shadow Plays. 11 On the bard cf. Finley, World of Odysseus 38, 59; Maehler, Die Auffassung des Dichterberuß, chs I and II; Notopoulos, 'Studies' 15 ff.; Schadewaldt, Von Homers Welt 54 ff. 12 Bowra, Heroic Poetry 410. 7

8

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and more fully by the swineherd Eumaeus speaking about him to Penelope (θ 368. ρ 512 if.). While Odysseus is not actually a singer and does not, like a singer, accompany himself on the lyre, we shall be able to glean from him some information about the singer's performance. 13 But there are, in the Odyssey, two professional singers: Demodocus and Phemius. Eumaeus, scolded by Antinous, the leading Suitor, for having brought the beggar Odysseus into the palace, defends himself by enumerating the only kinds of men that anyone in his senses would bring into the house: 'For who ever himself seeks out and bids to the feast a stranger from afar, save only one of those that are craftsmen of the people, a prophet or a healer of ills, or a shipwright, or even a godlike minstrel, who can delight all with his song? Nay, these are the men that are welcome over all the wide earth! (p 3 8 2 ff., tr. Latt.)

The singer is here grouped together with the prophet, the doctor and the shipbuilder. He was invited when his work was wanted. He may, therefore, have lived somewhere near the king's palace to which he would be called on festive occasions. This is likely of Phemius, the Ithacan bard, who sang for the Suitors 'by necessity' (χ 331), and perhaps of Demodocus, singer at the Phaeacian court, as we shall see. But he may also have travelled, and indeed travelled widely. 14 Travel in the world of the Aegaean was not difficult. Nestor sails from Lesbos to the southernmost point of Euboea in one day (γ 176 ff.); and Odysseus, in his fictitious story, tells Eumaeus that he sailed from Crete direct to Egypt in a swift ship in a little more than four days (ξ 257). 15 Even though that particular voyage was fictitious, there is no reason to believe that the timespan was. A singer, like Homer, may well have travelled singing from city to city along the coast of Asia Minor, across the Aegaean to the islands. Odysseus visits Delos (ζ 162); and the Hymn to Apollo (172) speaks of a 'blind singer' performing at Delos, at the festival of the god. It is quite possible that Homer himself is meant by the 'blind singer'. 16 He may have gone to mainland Greece, and further west. A century later, the singer Arion, according to Herodotus (1.23-4), stemmed from Methymna on the island of Lesbos, lived and worked at the court of Periander of Corinth, but also went to Italy and Sicily for a highly successful period of work. Homer certainly knew of these parts of the world. An old Sicilian woman, wife of Dolius, served Laertes in his sorrowful retirement (ω 211. 366. 389). In the late fifth century, the rhapsode Ion,

13 ]4 15 16

Maehler, Dichterberuf 29; Η. Frankel, Dichtung 11 f. Schadewaldt, Von Homers Welt 55. 64. Schadewaldt, Von Homers Welt 99. But cf. Intr. n. 47.

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according to Plato, was at home at Ephesus, went to Epidaurus in the Peloponnese for a poetic competition, and then moved on to Athens to take part in the competitions at the Panathenaean festival (Ion 530 a-b). If then the singers were invited to sing or came on their own initiative often moving from place to place 17 , what were the occasions or the situations in which they performed? 18 In Book -9 of the Odyssey, the blind singer Demodocus performs both in the hall of the Phaeacian king Alcinous at the banquet of the Phaeacian nobles, and out in the open at a public festival arranged by the king. Alcinous tells the 'scepterbearing kings' to come to his palace to entertain Odysseus (42), and it is to this company that Demodocus with his lyre is twice brought by a herald at the king's command (43-5, 62 ff.). When the earlier meal is finished (which may be around noon, since it is preceded by making the ship ready for Odysseus' departure, and is followed by games), Demodocus sings 'the quarrel between Odysseus and Achilles, son of Peleus, from the song-path whose fame at that time reached the broad sky, how they once quarrelled . . . ' (74-6). A 'songpath' (οιμη) is the Homeric word for an epic. 19 What Demodocus sings is an episode from an epic. 20 It must be imagined as of some length, because the singer stops and then begins again, more than once (87 ff.). But since Odysseus weeps when he hears the old tale, Alcinous proposes a change of entertainment: games in the open. We shall return to this presently. A corresponding scene takes place in the evening after sunset (417). The herald again brings the singer to a feast in the hall (471), the evening meal this time (δόρπον 539), and Odysseus honours him with an extra-good piece of meat. After the meal, Odysseus asks him to sing of the Wooden Horse, the cunning device by which Odysseus himself brought about the Fall of Troy (492). The singer preludes with a song to the god. The content of his song is summarized by the poet up to the point when Odysseus is victorious at the worst part of the fighting.21 Since Odysseus weeps all through this singing, Alcinous stops Demodocus (537 f.). It is the singer's business to please his audience; if he does not, he must not continue. How long this epic song about the Wooden Horse is thought of as taking, one cannot tell. It certainly 17 Cf. the wanderings of the doctor Democedes from Croton in southern Italy to Aegina, to Athens, to Samos, to Susa (Herodotus III 129-132). 18 For a detailed discussion see Notopoulos, 'Studies' 12 ff. But N. does not follow the Odyssean text closely, nor does he yet know of the endurance of the Uzbek singer

or the dalang (cf. below 31 f.).

Cf. below 33. Cf. Intr. 11 and n. 11. 21 According to Proclus' Chrestomathy, further episodes would have followed, 101 f., Oxford text (Allen). 19

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seems to be cut short. In any case, it is followed by the full tale of Odysseus' own experiences. It is plain from these two songs of Demodocus that a singer would be invited by a king to come into the hall of the palace at meal time to sing to his lyre after the feasting. The relationship between banquet and song is beautifully expressed when beggar Odysseus hearing the sound of the lyre coming from his own palace, says of the lyre that 'the gods gave it to be a companion for the feast' (p 271, also θ 99)21; and at the beginning of his own tale, Odysseus describes a singer's song at a good banquet as the finest thing there is (ι 1 ff.). A public festival is also arranged by Alcinous in honour of his guest Odysseus. He orders the men who make ready the ship which will take Odysseus home to come to his house and to prepare a meal, and he invites everybody (θ 38 ff.): 'and the porticoes and the enclosures and rooms were filled with people assembling, there were many men there, both old and young ones, and for them Alkinoos made a sacrifice . . . ' (θ 57 ff., tr. Latt.)

Later the king proposes competitive games outside: T h e y went to the place of assembly, with an endless multitude following, and many and excellent young men stood forth' (θ 109 f., tr. Latt.)

After the victory of Odysseus in throwing the discus, Demodocus performs, accompanied by dancing, the song of the love of Ares and Aphrodite (267-366). This small epic song is complete in itself. It is exactly 100 lines long, and consists of about seven scenes of which only the sixth, which is relevant to Odysseus' situation, is told in some detail. In this scene, all the gods see Aphrodite and Ares, her lover, caught in the web of Hephaestus, husband of Aphrodite, just as the Suitors pursuing marriage with Penelope will be caught by the cunning of Odysseus in his disguise as an old beggar.23 It may be inferred that in Homer's time there existed short epic songs side by side with long epics. Likewise, the Russian bylina, a short epic of a few hundred lines, exists today side by side with epics of the length of the Iliad and very much longer. Another kind of festival, also connected with a royal court, was funeral games in honour of a dead king. Hesiod undertook his only seajourney when he crossed from Aulis to Chalcis on Euboea (Works and Days 651) in order to take part in the contests at the funeral of King Amphidamas.24 He carried off a tripod as the prize for his victory, which he dedicated to the Muses of Mount Helicon who first called him to be a

22 23 24

Notopoulos, 'Studies' 16. Thornton, People and Themes 44 f. C. 7 3 0 - 7 0 0 B.C., cf. West's commentary on Theogony, intr. 43.

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singer. Whether epics were performed on such an occasion or not we do not know. While these festivals take place within one community under the rule of a royal house, another kind of festival is described in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo (146 ff.). All the Ionians with their families gather together on the island of Delos for a festival in honour of the god whose birthplace it is. To please him, they institute contests in wrestling, dancing, and singing (149f.); and the most favoured singer is the 'blind man' from 'rugged Chios' (172).25 We have no direct evidence about the kind or length of an epic song on that occasion, but we can well imagine how Homer or more probably one of the Homeridae might have sung the Iliad or the Odyssey through the length of three cool nights. Since the festival on Delos took place every four years, it is plausible to assume that such a great festival lasted several weeks, like the Moslem festival of Ramazan which lasts for a month. 2 6 This would make it feasible for several epic singers to compete. 27 Another great festival is that of the Panionia at Mycale sacred to Heliconian Poseidon. 28 Competition in singing, mentioned in the Delian hymn and by Hesiod, is also implied in the Iliad in the boast of Thamyris that he would be able to 'defeat' the Muses themselves, if they were to sing (B 597 f.), a boast for which he paid dearly. 29 Contests in epic song at festivals in honour of a god persisted into the fifth and fourth centuries B.C. The rhapsode Ion when meeting Socrates had carried off first prize at the contest of rhapsodes held in honour of the god Asclepius at Epidaurus, and he hopes to carry off a prize again at Athens at the Panathenaean festival in honour of Athena. Ion declares himself to be a specialist in recitation of the Homeric epics (Ion 530a and b, 531a). In recent times, opportunities for epic story-telling at the courts of Moslem nobles still existed in the 1930s in Yugoslavia. 30 2 5 Even if, as Burkert argued (cf. Introd. n. 47), the Hymn to Apollo belongs to the sixth century rather than the eighth, the main features of such a festival are likely to be very old. 2 6 Cf. Lord, Singer of Tales 15, Serbo-Croatian Songs vol. I 16. 2 7 Differently Notopoulos, 'Studies' 14. 2 8 Cf. Gilbert Murray, The Rise of the Greek Epic'2, 209ff.; Wade-Gery, Poet of the Iliad 3 ff., Webster, From Mycenae to Homer 268. Cf. Mahabharata, vol. 1 1 2 5 tr. Buitenen, 'The Descent of the First Generations' 1 . 5 3 . 3 2 : at the Snake Festival held by king Janamejaya (8th or 9th century B. C., Buitenen, intr. XXIV) 'in the pauses between the rites the brahmins told tales that rested on the Veda; but Vyasa told the wondrous epic, the grand Bhärata.' 1 9 Maehler, Dichterberuf 16; Chadwick and Zhirmunsky, Oral Epics of Central Asia 3 2 9 : old custom of public competitions between folk-singers retained today among Kazakhs and Kirghiz (not epic). 3 0 Lord, Singer of Tales 16.

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On special occasions, a singer was called in to entertain the guests. According to Zhirmunsky 31 , 'the Uzbek feudals, Khans and beks invited folk-singers to their courts; Kazakhakyns and Kirghiz manaschi often sang in the nomadic tents of bais and manaps, the steppe aristocracy, who liked to listen to songs about heroic deeds of bygone days, especially about the deeds performed by legendary ancestors of their own kin.' At the same time - and particularly with the feudal system gradually disappearing - epic tales were and are being performed in private houses in villages in the country or in coffee houses and taverns in town in Yugoslavia. 32 In Uzbekistan, 'in winter, when the agricultural work had been completed, an Uzbek tale-singer was usually invited to neighbouring or more distant villages where he recited at family or public gatherings and at specially arranged evening meetings when the whole population of the village gathered to listen to the guest singer'. 33 In Kelantan, in the north-east of Malaysia, the season for performances of the wayang, the shadow-play is also determined by the exigencies of work in the country: it 'begins in earnest only after the padi harvest, and extends to the beginning of the rainy season'. 34 Traditionally, 'one man, a family, or even a village would shoulder the expense on some important social occasion such as marriage or circumcision'. But today most performances 'are organized as a business enterprise', where a man fences off a suitable piece of land, erects a panggung ('operating box' 13), and invites a dalang and his troupe to perform. Well-known dalangs from Kelantan are invited to perform over a wide district, even as far as into Southern Thailand. 35 If the Homeric epics were in all probability sung at the banquet of kings and at festivals of gods, at what time of day or night were they performed? We have, to my knowledge no evidence for an answer to this question in the case of festivals. But in the case of feasts of nobles, the time for story-telling at length is at night after dinner whether in a palace 36 - or in the hut where the swineherd is host. Eumaeus says to the beggar Odysseus: ' M y guest, since indeed you are asking me all these questions, listen in silence and take your pleasure, and sit there drinking your wine. These nights are endless, and a man can sleep through them,

Zhirmunsky, T h e Epic Folk-Singers in Central Asia' 240. Lord, Singer of Tales 14. 3 3 Zhirmunsky, 'The epic Folk-Singers . . . ' 239. 3 4 Sweeney, Ramayana 26. 3 5 Sweeney, Ramayana 26 ff. In Java, too, shadow-plays are performed at marriages and circumcisions, Geertz, Religion of Java 51, 268. For bards performing at weddings cf. also Lord, Serbo-Croatian Songs I 65 f.; cf. also Brandon, Thrones of Gold 1 4 - 1 6 . 3 6 Notopoulos, 'Studies' 16 ff., 70 n. 61. 31

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or he can enjoy listening to stories, and you have no need to go to bed before it is time. Too much sleep is only a bore.' (o 390 ££. tr. Latt.)

Forthwith, Eumaeus proceeds to tell the story of his life, and how he came to Ithaca. After this, 'they slept, not for a long time, only a little while. For, quickly came the Dawn on her beautiful throne' (494 f.). The story-telling after dinner takes most of the night. At the Phaeacian court, Odysseus stops his after-dinner tale at the end of the catalogue of heroines whom he saw in the underworld, saying: 'But I could not tell the whole number of them nor name all the women I saw who were the wives and daughters of heroes, for before that the divine night would give out. It is time now for my sleep, either joining my companions on board the fast ship, or here; but you, and the gods, will see to my homeward journey.' (λ 328 ff., tr. Latt.)

Arete breaking into the rapt silence suggests further gifts (in addition to those promised previously, θ 389 ff.), and Alcinous agrees wholeheartedly. Then he asks Odysseus about the fate of the other Achaean heroes who went to Troy, and says: 'Here is a night that is very long, it is endless. It is not time yet to sleep in the palace. But go on telling your wonderful story. I myself could hold out until the bright dawn, if only you could bear to tell me, here in the palace, of your suffering.' (λ 373 ff., tr. Latt.)

Odysseus then tells the rest of his story. When he has finished, King Alcinous proposes a further collection of gifts for their guest. The Phaeacians agree and 'They all went home to go to bed, each one to his own house. But when the young Dawn showed again with her rosy fingers, they came in haste to the ship . . . ' (v 17 ff., tr. Latt.)

Nothing is said about the shortness of their sleep. It is plain though that the story-telling continues through a considerable part of the night, and that there is a pause after about two thirds of the tale in which gifts are promised to the story-teller. The fact that this pause is the centre around which the adventures, or rather trials of Odysseus are arranged concentrically has been shown by Germain. 37 It seems, however, that a

37 Germain, Genese de l'Odyssee 333, Webster, From Mycenae to Homer 247, Thornton, People and Themes 32 f.

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performance during day-time might be interrupted quite frequently, like that of the first song of Demodocus (0 87 ff.).38 In Uzbekistan, the performance of epic lasts from sunset to sunrise, with a pause at midnight.39 During the pause, the story teller 'leaves on his place his overcoat and his belt on which he puts his dombra (a small lute with two strings) upside down. When he has gone, someone among the listeners stretches out the belt in the middle of the room, and each of those present places on it prepared payment, in kind or money. That reward is prepared for earlier by the visitors, but according to the quality of the performance the amount of the gifts is increased or decreased. Apart from those gifts, which they had brought with them, the rich men in olden times gave to the singer invited by them at his departure more valuable gifts: a new coat, horses, cattle, while a horse was regarded as a gift conferring the greatest honour.' When Odysseus gives Demodocus a special piece of meat speaking appreciatively of his art (-9 474 ff.), he acts like the Uzbeks increasing their gifts. While the gifts promised to Odysseus when he pauses are really 'guest gifts', the fact that they are promised at a break in the story-telling, and that this story-telling is of the nature of an epic tale makes the Homeric events closely parallel to Uzbek custom. The Russian account of Uzbek singers goes on to say that 'such performances of a story-teller went on for the span of a few nights, from three or four days to a week or more, sometimes in different houses in turn, on agreement with the host with whom the singer was staying. During that time, the story-teller performed one or several epics, depending on the tempo of the performance determined by the interest of the listeners.' In Malaysia and Java, shadow-plays are also performed at night. In Java, the dalang begins after evening prayer and continues until dawn40 which is a time-span of 'almost nine hours'. 41 According to Santoso, 'it is a great flaw when a dalang has to rest during his show which lasts not less than nine hours'. 42 A performance can also be prolonged for some further nights.43 In Kelantan more than elsewhere, the duration of per3 8 Cf. H. Frankel, Dichtung 13 η. 10. But the occurrence of an invocation to the Muses or a question on the part of the poet (Λ 2 1 8 f. and 2 9 9 f.) do not necessarily imply a pause in the singing. 3 9 Zhirmunsky and Zarifov 30, my tr. Cf. Murko in Frankel, Dichtung 21. 4 0 Sweeney, Ramayana 3 0 ; cf. Brandon, Thrones of Gold 1, 8, 68. 4 1 Moebirman, Shadow-Play 39. 4 2 Santoso, Shadow-Play, 10. 4 3 Moebirman, op. cit., 28, Sweeney, Ramayana 28. Cf. Lord, Serbo-Croatian Songs I 55 'After listening to him sing for 3 hours with a break only to change the spools, I can believe his remark that he had sung for as long as 8 hours on one song.' Cf. 65 'six hours at a time.'

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formance is controlled by the government: 'The play must end by midnight. In other areas it often continues until much later, even to dawn.'44 These are then the conditions of life of the Homeric singer and the situations in which he sang so far as we can infer them from the poet's own songs and from some comparative evidence.

44 Sweeney, Kamayana 30. Cf. a passage f r o m a m o d e r n concert program describing Ά day in the life of M e n u h i n . ' In a telephone conversation with Moshevitch, M e n u h i n makes proposals for a very full concert with several extensive encores. W h e n M o s h e vitch obviously w o n d e r s about the length of the concert, M e n u h i n is said to have replied: 'Programme very long? In India concerts g o on till dawn . . . very good for Western audiences . . . endurance test.'

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Chapter 2 The character of the performance; singer and audience How does the epic singer experience his own performance? And how does it affect his audience? The Homeric word for an epic is οϊμη 1 which refers to an epic song by the image of a 'path along which a singer moves'. The first song of Demodocus is introduced in this way: "The Muse sent forth the singer to sing the fame of men, the quarrel between Odysseus and Achilles from the song-path, the fame of which reached the broad sky' (θ 72 ff.). 2 Odysseus praising the singers says: 'They are invested with honour and respect, because the Muse teaches them song-paths, and she loves the tribe of singers' (θ 479 ff.). And again, in the battle with the Suitors, the singer Phemius begs Odysseus to spare him saying: Ί am self-taught, a god emplants in my mind song-paths of every kind' (χ 347 f.). When Odysseus wants Demodocus to change his subject and to sing of the Wooden Horse, he says: 'But now change your walk (μετάβη·9ι) and sing of the 'contrivance of the Wooden Horse' (θ 492). The 'song-path' as a name for an epic gives us an image of the epic plot as a path which directs the singer moving along to a set goal. 3 The singer's running along this path is not slow or leisurely. The verb οίμάω, related to ο'ίμη, expresses a violent swoop in attacking. It is used of Odysseus in his final battle with the Suitors' kinsmen: 'He roared terribly, much-enduring, brilliant Odysseus, and having gathered himself for the spring rushed forth' (οϊμησεν), like an eagle flying on high (ω 538). In the Iliad, Achilles pursues the fleeing Hector with the speed and ease with which a hawk 'swoops' (ο'ίμησε) after a dove (X 140), and Hector certain of his doom 'rushes' (οιμησεν) towards Achilles, like an eagle (X 308). The activity of the singer which is in accord with the character of his path of song is a swift movement of great energy and passion. 4 Cf. Appendix 1 on the meaning of ο'ίμη. Cf. above intr. 11 and n. 11. For the transl. cf. Merry and Riddle, Comm. ad loc., Stanford on -8 73 f.; Lattimore's transl. is not right. 3 Cf. below 51. 4 Cf. also οίμα Π 7 5 2 ; Φ 252. It is interesting to compare C. R. Bawden's description in 'Remarks on some contemporary Performances of Epics MPR' 42 of the impression made on him by Mongolian singers: 'The overall effect upon the listener is one of compelling regularity, of forward impetus with little change in pitch, little expression in the 1

2

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Related to this imagery is also the beginning of the work of Parmenides, the Pre-Socratic philosopher. The poet-thinker rides on his chariot along the path of his thought towards the gate which opens into the realm of truth. 'The forward-rushing power of his thought', as Frankel puts it,5 'is symbolized by the high-pitched whistling of the turning of the wheels which makes the axles run hot.' The Uzbek singer uses a similar image: to him his dombra, the twostringed lute with which he accompanies his singing, is his horse. He saddles it, and whips it up when he sets out on the ride of his song. 6 What is the source of the tremendous energy in the singer which drives him for many hours along the path of his song, and which, according to Plato, at the height of a climax, 'overpowers' 7 his audience? The singer is 'called' to sing by the Muses. A 'call' is implied in Odysseus' words about singers in general that 'the Muse teaches them songpaths, and loves the tribe of singers' (θ 481, cf.498). Hesiod tells us himself (Theog. 22 ff.) how the Muses 'taught him beautiful song' as he was herding his sheep on Mount Helicon. They addressed him sternly, gave him for a staff a branch from a laurel tree (which is the tree of Apollo), and they breathed a divine voice into him so that he might sing the future and the past 8 ; and they commanded him to praise the family of the blessed eternal gods, and always to sing of themselves first and last. He does what they ask in his poem. The Uzbek description of a 'call' is extraordinarily similar. In the old times Uzbek singers used to tell about themselves how it happened. 'The future singer, a simple shepherd (or cowherd) who did not possess the gift of song before fell asleep somewhere in the open under a tree. In a dream there appeared to him a stranger (mostly some Moslem saint) who gave to him a dombra and commanded him to sing saying: "You will be a singer!" The bard in his dream played and sang. Waking up he saw that noone was beside him, but from that time on he received the gift of song and became a bard'. 9 According to Zhirmunsky 10 , all the peoples of Central Asia believed that the art of poetry is a kind of mys-

voice, and little or no ornamentation . . . the insistent, apparently almost unvarying rhythm of the vocal line, supported by the repetitive instrumental line . . . The verse structure was quite obscured by the relentless push of the rhythm of the large unit, the section.' Perhaps Nicolai's 4 to 12 lines sections which represent almost 85 % of all sections in the Iliad are similar units of performance (Nicolai, Darstellungseinheiten 44). 5 Η. Frankel, Dichtung 400 η. 7, cf. Durante, Epea 254 f. (10-12). 6 Zhirmunsky and Zarifov 30, par. 2. 7 Lit. 'knocks out', Plato, Ion 535 b 2. 8 Cf. West. Theog. comm. ad loc. 9 Zhirmunsky and Zarifov 26, my transl.; cf. West on Theogony 22ff.; p. 159f. on other accounts about a shephered receiving a 'call'. 10 Chadwick and Zhirmunsky, Oral Epics of Central Asia 332 f.

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terious gift bestowed on the person of the singer by a prophetic call from on high. The future singer of the epic Manas, 'for example, is visited in a dream by the hero Manas and his forty followers, or by his son Semetei, or by another of his famous warriors, and is handed a musical instrument and commanded to sing of their deeds. If the chosen singer disregards this call, he is visited by illness or severe misfortune, until he submits himself obediently to their will.' The way in which the Muses 'teach beautiful song' to a singer is expressed by various images, apart from handing him a laurel branch or a musical instrument. As Hesiod says, 'they breathed into me a divine voice' (Theog. 31), an image which for us is weakened by familiarity. But Homer uses the same word when Athena 'breathes power' (μένος Κ 482; ω 520 f.) n into Diomedes and into old Laertes. The heroes, feeling a sudden access of strength, enter battle forthwith. The 'courage' or 'fighting power' breathed into them corresponds to a voice of divine quality for Hesiod: gifted with this new wonderful voice Hesiod forthwith becomes a singer. 12 While the Malay dalang does not have a divinity to 'inspire' him, his 'angin, generally meaning " w i n d " . . . implies not only a strong penchant for the wayang, but also a susceptibility to be moved greatly by the rhythm of the orchestra and a capability of identifying oneself completely with the characters of the drama, causing one to experience intense emotion. If an individual does not control his angin, he may lapse into a trance, a state of autohypnosis . . . it is the possession of angin which usually determines an individual's decision to become a dalang more than the prospect of financial gain, and four dalangs have stated that if they do not perform, they fall ill.' 13 One particular dalang declared: 'When I get behind the kelir (screen), hear the rhythm and hold the puppets, my angin comes and I feel supremely confident.' 14 Much of this sounds like a description of the Homeric bard's inner experience of the Muses' impact on his person. Phemius begging Odysseus to spare his life says: 'The god planted in my mind manyfold paths of song' (χ 347 f.). 15 The image of a man's breast or mind as the soil in which something grows is quite frequent in Greek poetry. 16 The richest example occurs in Aeschylus' Septem 593 f. Onians, Origins 5 1 ; Dodds, Greeks and Irrational 8 f . For the antiquity of the idea of 'inspiration' cf. Thieme, 'Die Wurzel vaf. Not right Havelock, Preface to Plato 155, 'The early role of the Muse has often been misunderstood. She was the symbol of the bard's command of professional secrets, not of his dependence on divine guidance' and more. 11

12

13 14 15 16

Sweeney, Ramayana 42. Sweeney 52. Dodds, Greeks and Irr. 10 and n. 63. Onians, Origins 30.

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where the prophet Amphiaraus is described as a man 'reaping a deep furrow through the φρήν (mind) out of which sprout trusty counsils'. 17 In relation to Phemius, the god is the planter and husbandman of his mind. Hesiod also says of the man who is blessed because the Muses love him that 'sweet flows his voice from his mouth' (Theog. 97). The image is more fully expressed in relation to a king whom the Muses honour: 'On his tongue they pour sweet dew, and from his mouth words flow which are gentle and a balm' {Theog. 83f.). Dew descends from heaven, and if it is sweet, it is like honey or even identical with honey. 18 All this the Muses do for the singer, because they love him, as both Hesiod and Homer say (Theog. 96f.; θ 481). In the longest invocation to the Muses in the Iliad, the invocation preceding the Catalogue of ships, Homer speaks directly about his own relation as a poet to the Muses: 'Teil me now, you Muses, who have your home on Olympus, for you are goddesses, and you are ever present, and you know all things, having seen them, while we only hear a report, and do not know anything having seen it ourselves who were the leaders and lords of the Greeks' (B 484 ff., my tr.) 19

Facing the heavy demand which the size and the importance of the Catalogue will make on his powers the singer finds the ordinary strength of his tongue, his mouth, his voice and his heart quite insufficient. Even if they were vastly increased, it would not be enough. 20 Ten Transl. Onians 30. Cf. West, Commentary, ad loc. 19 Page, History 167 n. 45 suggests that 'this invocation is probably a very late addition: note the highly abnormal intrusions of the poet's personality (μοι 484, ήμεΐς 486, έγώ 488, μοι 489 and 490, έρέω 493).' The words 'a very late addition' are, of course, intended to suggest that this invocation is not by the poet of the Iliad. The underlying assumption is the apparent 'anonymity of oral poems'. Bowra, Heroic Poetry 404 explains it in this way: 'Each poem has one existence, when it is recited, and then the audience knows who the poet is. He has no need to mention his name in his poem since it is familiar to those who listen to him and are the only people who matter on each occasion.' Cf. Lord, Singer 101. On the other hand, there is a traditional form available to the poet for speaking about himself, and that is precisely the Invocation to the Muses. In addition, the form of the invocation of Β 484 ff. has been shown to be very old by Schwyzer, 'Die Parenthese im engern und im weitem Sinne', reported by Schaeder, 'Indogermanischer Liedtypus in den Gathas' 67. Schwyzer concludes: 'Die Verwendung einer Parenthese zum Aufbau einer ständigen Eingangs- oder Schlussformel war kaum persönlicher, sondern altiranischer und altgermanischer and damit altindogermanischer Dichterstil'. Cf. also Maehler, Dichterberuf 18. 2 0 Krischer, 'Die Entschuldigung des Sängers' 1 - 1 1 . It is not fitting to call the poet's description of his impotence apart from the help of the Muses an 'apology'. What is described is the permanent state of the singer, and a privilege rather than a weakness. It is described so fully at this point to emphasize the importance of the Catalogue. The large 17

18

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tongues and ten mouths are not meant as an increase in number as such, but as an increase in quality and effectiveness. The wish for an 'unbreaking voice' shows the problem of the oral singer faced with many hours of singing. This cannot apply, in a simple factual way, to the singing of the Catalogue, which would not take many minutes to sing. It is rather an essential part of the singer's labour in general. When he imagines his heart as being of bronze, he desires for it the irresistible force of the sleep of death into which Iphidamas falls struck by the sword of Agamemnon (A 241) or the power of Achilles' voice which is like the call of a trumpet, and frightens the Trojans back from the Wall (Σ 222). The singer's heart is the source of his song, the vital and passionate force of his mind, feeling and imagination. Even if, in this way, the whole personality of the singer were to be heightened in all its powers, this would not be adequate to the task as long as he is merely working with what is transmitted by the human 'report' of an oral tradition. Unless the divine power of the Muses comes to his aid, the poet is impotent. The physical and mental effort of the Uzbek story-teller is described by Zhirmunski and Zarifov: 'Physical signs of the inspired state of the singer are sharp rhythmical turns of the head with which he accompanies the ejection of each poetic line. He is covered with sweat, takes one coat off after the other in which he is clothed. Nevertheless, a good singer, master of his craft, at the time of the performance of the epic preserves his ability to listen sharply and attentively to the reactions of the audience to his playing.' 21 About the dalang Santoso says: 'It is very hard to become a good dalang. First of all he should be physically very fit' for his nine hour long performance. He must have a good voice, and always be in tune with his orchestra. He must be in control of his audience and of himself, if he encounters criticsm. He must also feel responsible for his listeners so that noone takes harm. 22 To return to the invocation before the Catalogue, it is striking that, although the poet works within an oral tradition and explicitly refers to the 'report' (κλέος) that he and any one like him would hear, the idea of 'remembering' is not mentioned with reference to himself, the singer, and his relation to oral tradition. 23 He simply 'hears', and no mention is group of similes has the same function. - Lines 487 and 493 should not be taken as in opposition to each other: 4 9 3 amplifies 487. 21 Zhirmunsky and Zarifov 29. 2:2 Santoso, Javanese Shadowplay 10. 23 This is different later. Thucydides (1.9.2) uses μνήμη to denote 'oral tradition': Λέγ ο υ σ ι ν δέ και οι τ ά σ α φ έ σ τ α τ α Πελοποννησίων μνημτ) παρά των προτέρων δεδεγμένοι, 'those of the Peloponnesians who accept in oral tradition from their forerunners the clearest evidence . . .' (tr. Huxley, Greek Epic Poetry 31). Willcock, Commentary

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made of any difficulty of remembering what he has heard. It is the Muses who 'remember', and what they remember goes far beyond what any human can glean from an oral tradition. For they are goddesses and immortal, present at all events at any time and in any place, and therefore eye-witnesses 24 of all that ever happened or happens. What they can impart to the poet is the gripping immediacy of experience of what he sings in all its overwhelming multitude and intensity. It is this that Odysseus who both weeps and rejoices at the song of Demodocus (θ 83 ff. 367 ff. 521 ff.) expresses when he says to the singer: 'Demodokos, above all mortals beside I prize you. Surely the Muse, Zeus' daugther or else Apollo has taught you, for all too right following the tale you sing the Achaians' venture, all they did and had done to them, all the sufferings of these Achaians, as if you had been there yourself or heard it from one who was.' (0 487 ff., tr. Latt.)

The singer may have to pay heavily for the gift of this 'vision', like Demodocus, 'whom the Mused loved greatly, and she gave him a good thing and a bad thing: she deprived him of his eyes, but gave him sweet song' (θ 63 f.). Homer himself was believed to be blind. The inner connection between physical blindness and poetic vision is strikingly confirmed by the training which Irish master poets of the fifteenth century gave to their students, a training which lasted several years, the season extending from the first of November to the first of May 'when the kuckoo began to sing'. 25 Once the students had been instructed in the knowledge of historical traditions, genealogies, and the topography of the land, also of the great numbers of metres used and of all the poetic devices, they were introduced to the practice of composition in the following manner: T h e teacher led his students into a low building with whitewashed walls, a place of retreat and silence. In the morning the tasks were distributed. The students were shut into rooms without windows where they spent the day in the darkness meditating on the subject given to them and treating it in a prescribed metre. In the evening, they all foregathered in a big hall and recited their compositions before their teacher who gave them his criticism at once.

2.486, on κλέος 'hearsay'. 492 on μνησαίατο 'recounted', 'told' (cf. also Leaf and Bayfield 'made mention of, recounted'). Why this translation? Surely 'they remembered' having been present. That they would tell the poet at his request is understood (cf. 484), but not expressed in μνησαίατο. 24 Cf. Schadewaldt, Iliasst. 62f.; 129. Cf. also Vernant, mythe et pensee 54, 'De ces epoques revolues le poete a une experience immediate. II connait le passe parce qu'il a le pouvoir d'etre present au passe. Se souvenir, savoir, voir, autant de termes s'equivalent' (reference to Β 484 ff., and θ 4 9 1 ) . . . 'Presence directe au passe, revelation immediate, don divin, tous ces traits . . . definissent l'inspiration par les Muses.'. Cf. Dodds, Greeks and Irr. 100 n. 116. 25 Vendryes, Choix d'etudes 217, referred to by Vernant, mythe et pensee 53 n. 6.

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The habit developed at school of composing in darkness then lasted all their lives. A poet pictures himself with his 'eyelids drawn like a curtain in order to protect him from the light of day'. The same poet is astonished that one of his colleagues can work in the open, on a journey, and even on horseback! He reminds him of the great predecessors who have left a name in poetry: they all shut themselves up in darkness in order to compose their verses . . . '

Vendryes adds that it is intelligible that the profession of the poet attracted blind men. Blindness seemed to be the mark of the profession. The concreteness of (visual) presentation praised by Odysseus may be effected by the enumeration of proper names. It seems a firm tradition that an invocation frequently precedes a catalogue of names. 26 As Frankel puts it, 27 'the ample use of names in a poem gives to what is said a particularly solid reality, for names identify their objects as precisely and unambiguously as no other form of reference can. On the other hand, names are devoid of content for those, who are not already familiar with the bearers of the names.' Homer's audience would be well acquainted with most of the heroes in the Catalogue. How do the Muses communicate with the poet? In the prooimia to the two Homeric epics and in the invocations, the Muses are requested to 'sing' or 'tell' the poet about the subject he is to sing. What the poet thereupon says is the answer of the Muses. The words of the Muses and the words of the singer are one and the same. 28 What happens then when the poet sings what the Muse tells him? Are there any specific indications of how the Muse affects the singer? There is one passage which gives us some inkling of how this is conceived. When Demodocus sings his first song in Book θ among the Phaeacians, 'the Muse impelled (άντ)κεν, θ 73) the singer to sing the fame of men', 29 namely the episode of the Quarrel between Achilles and Odysseus. The verb 'impelled' (άνηκεν) followed by an infinitive is surprisingly narrow in its usage. In the ten examples from the Iliad, the agent who 'impels' someone is always either a god 30 or else a man's θυμός, his impetuous, sometimes angry spirit. 31 The actions into which a man is 'impelled' are often of a wild aggressive nature. Thus Athena 'impels' Diomedes to rage against the gods (E 882), and to wound Ares (Φ 395); and Minton, 'Invocation and Catalogue' 189; Webster, Mycenae to Homer 178, 185. H. Frankel, Dichtung 181; Strasburger, Kleine Kämpfer 15 η. 1. 28 This is presumably why the 'Muse' later comes to denote the song. Cf. Pindar Pyth. 4,3 quoted by Davison, 'Literature and Literacy' 145 n. 3 not rightly; cf. Hesiod, Theog. 114 f. and West's note. On 'question' to the Muse and answer, cf. Schadewaldt, Iliasst. 58 n. 2, with references to Russian bylina and Serbian epic. 29 Differently interpreted by Durante, Epea 251 (8/9) referring to W. Kranz. 30 O r the agent may be a quasi-god, as Sleep Ξ 362; goddesses are Kypris Ε 422, Athena Ε 8 8 2 ; Φ 396. 31 Β 2 7 6 ; Ζ 2 5 6 ; Η 152; Μ 307; Χ 252, 346. 26 27

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his θυμός 'impels' Sarpedon to leap upon the wall and break the battlements in pieces (M 307). The action upon which a human being is 'impelled' is full of daring when it is suggested that Cypris has caused an Achaean woman to follow the Trojans (E 422), or when Poseidon after a speech of Sleep is 'impelled' by him to assist even further the Greeks in battle which is against the will of Zeus (Ξ 362). It is daring, too, when Hector 'impelled' by his θυμός at last stands his ground against Achilles ( X 252), when in his tale about his youth Nestor, youngest of all present, takes on the challenge of Ereuthalion (H 152), when Thersites abuses the kings in the assembly (B 276). Hector's action is milder when Hecuba asks him why he left the battle when the Achaeans fighting around the city were indeed pressing hard upon him, and she herself supplies the answer: 'Your θυμός impelled you to come here and to raise your hands in prayer to Zeus from the acropolis' (Z 256 f.). Her supposition is close to the truth. For, since the Trojans are in dire straits under the attack of Diomedes, Helenus has sent Hector into town to order a procession with gifts and prayers to be sent to Athena so that she might save them from Diomedes. As Hecuba implies, Hector would not have left the battle unless the urge to go and the reason for doing so had been very strong. A prayer to the gods in great need is the motive for Hector being in Troy. To sum up the examples from the Iliad, the action to which either a god or a man's θυμός 'impels' him may be fierce and violent, or daring, or, in one case, an action surprising but designed to save a desperate situation. In the Odyssey, the two actions (apart from the song of Demodocus) into which a man is 'impelled' are both daring, and lead to destruction or contempt. Odysseus disguised as beggar tells Antinous how Zeus destroyed his wealth by 'impelling him to go to Egypt with roving pirates, a long way' so that he should perish (p 425). The journey is daring and dangerous, even though Odysseus hardly realizes it until afterwards. In the second case, the subject or 'agent' of άνηκε (ξ 465) is 'mad wine who impels even a sensible man into singing and laughing softly, and impels him to dance, and impels up to the light of day a word that were better unspoken.' Odysseus is going to test the swineherd by telling a rather boastful story, and forestalls an adverse reaction by describing the effect of wine with which he has been plied (447 f.). 32 The action into which even the sensible man is 'impelled' by wine is to dance, which makes the drunkard conspicuous and open to ridicule. It is also lively bodily movement, as in several cases in the examples from the II-

32 It is a wily speech introduced by the witty play on three compounds of ήκε prefixed by έφ-, άν-, and προ-.

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iad (also ρ 425). The power of wine is in Greek thought close to the power or nature of a god. Returning to the Muse 'impelling the singer to sing the famous deeds of men' Ο 73), we may now say that what the singer does under the impact of the Muse can be nothing quiet, ordinary, matter-of-fact. But she flings him into a violent, daring, startling performance, into singing at a tremendous pitch of emotional and intellectual activity. Here we catch a glimpse of how the intensity of the beginning of a performance matters. Once the exalted level of this intensity is reached, the poet runs swiftly along the 'song-path' which the god has implanted in his mind. When a new access of god-given energy is needed in the course of the performance, the poet calls again on the Muses for help. This happens five times in the Iliad, and is always related to crucial moments in the dramatic action of the tale.33 The longest invocation in the epic occurs, as we have seen, before the Catalogue of the Greek heroes and ships. 34 This invocation, together with the longest series of similes in the Iliad which precedes it, introduces the pageant of the Achaean army whose collision with the Trojans supplies all the battle action of the poem. It is completely appropriate that this invocation is, in proportion to its importance, more extensive than any other. Another, much shorter invocation follows on the Achaean Catalogue, addressed this time to one Muse: 'Who then was the best of them, you tell me, Muse, among the men themselves and among the horses that came with the sons of Atreus?' (B 761 f.)

The answer is: the horses of Eumelus, and Ajax as long as Achilles was angry. 35 Then the idle inactivity of Achilles, his men and his horses 33

Cf. Calhoun, 'The Poet and the Muses in Homer' whose results I use and take fur-

ther. 34 Minton, 'Invocation and Catalogue' 189 f. infers from the traditional connection between invocations to the Muses and catalogues that the Muses are 'something very like the embodiment of the traditonal knowledge (and wisdom) of the past in all its factual precision . . . ' ; cf. also Davison, 'Literature and Literacy' 145, Strasburger, 53. Calhoun 159 f., on the other hand, maintains that invocations to the Muses in the Iliad do not arise from the poet's need for information. The requests to the Muse to say who the best hero and the best horses were on the Achaean side (B 761 f.), or how fire first fell upon the ships of the Achaeans (Π 112) cannot be understood as caused by any difficulty concerning 'information'. It is the function of these invocations to draw attention to crucial moments in the poem, and this determines their occurrences. There is, however, no need to posit an 'either-or' for the nature of the Muses' response to an invocation. A fresh access of that inspired energy which the Muses give would both ease and broaden the flow of constructive memory and of improvisation. 35 Eumelus and his excellent horses are not mentioned again until Ψ 288, where Eumelus is the first to enter the chariot race. But he arrives last at the goal (Ψ 532), a turn of events which is full of irony and tart humour characteristic of the Games as a

41

with their chariots is decribed. The Muse's answer means that Ajax is the Achaean champion as long as Achilles is out of the action. His most important opponent will therefore be Hector, the champion of the Trojans. In Book H, Ajax shows himself superior to Hector in the duel cut short by nightfall; he draws blood from his neck, and causes him to fall (H 261 ff.). In Book I, in the Embassy, his is the final speech to Achilles, and Achilles agrees with him; in the rout of the Achaean heroes in Book A, he is the last to be forced to yield (A 544 f.). In Books N - O , the turning-point in the battles of the epic which lead to the firing of one ship and to the death of Patroclus is marked by two out of the three remaining invocations to the Muses. 36 All three begin with the same line with which the extensive invocation of Book Β also begins.37 When the Trojans are seized by fear, and are turning to flee, the singer calls on the Muses: Tell me now, Muses, who have your house on Olympus, who was the first of the Achaians to carry off bloodstained booty, after the famous Earth-Shaker had turned the battle. Aias then first, son of Telamon, struck Hyrtios . . . ' (Ξ 508 ff., my tr.)

The answer of the Muses to the poet's question is the name of Ajax. A brief description of the Trojans' flight is followed by Zeus' awakening (O 4) and rearranging the divine powers at work, recalling Poseidon and sending Apollo onto the field who soon turns the battle (320 ff.). Again, and for the last time, the poet invokes the Muses when Ajax can no longer stand his ground (Π 102), and 'evil was stacked on evil around him' (111): 'Teil me now, Muses, who have your house on Olympus, how fire first fell upon the ships of the Achaians' (Π 112 f.)

The Muses' answer is that Hector with his sword cut off the head of Ajax' spear, that Ajax recognized the grim intention of Zeus, and withdrew from the missiles, 'and they threw the tireless fire into the ships.' The two invocations to the Muses in Ξ 508 ff. and Π 112 f. are closely connected. They form a pair enclosing the source of the crisis, namely Zeus' awakening and his commands. The reply to both invocations is

whole. The victor is Diomedes with the divine horses which he took off Aeneas (Ψ 291 f.; Ε 3X9ff.) A similar grim humour comes to expression in the name of Δόλων Κ 314 ff. who is conspicuous for his naivety, and pits himself unwittingly against the master of δόλος, Odysseus. 3 6 Both Calhoun (161) and Minton 'Invocations of the Muses' regard the Invocation in Book 14 as separate from the one in Book 16. Minton's special pleading (298) is not convincing. Leaf on Ξ 508 is right when he says 'there is no great crisis, but only a temporary reflux of the tide of battle.' But the remedy is not the assumption of a later addition. 37 Λ 218. Ξ 508. Π 112.

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concerned with Ajax, the first showing him as the leader in the last advance of the Achaeans unaided by Achilles or Patroclus, the second as the last bulwark of defense now giving way. Ajax, called first of the Achaeans after Achilles, in the short invocation of Book B, is the hero at the supreme crisis of the epic action, the firing of one of the Achaean ships. 38 There remains one further invocation to the Muses. It is concerned with Agamemnon. 'Tell me now, Muses, who have your house on Olympus, w h o first came to meet Agamemnon, either of the Trojans themselves or of their famous allies.' (Λ 218 ff.) 39

This occurs in the midst of Agamemnon's άριστεία. 4 0 After a brilliant charge of the king, the poet significantly asks the Muses, not whom he killed first (as in Ε 703. Θ 273. Λ 299. Π 692), but who first came to meet him. The very form in which the poet's question is cast suggests the turn of fortune in Agamemnon's άριστεία which soon takes place. 41 Let us then summarize the occurrences and the function or functions of the singer's invocations to the Muses, within the course of the epic. Of the four invocations which begin with the formulaic request 'Tell me now, M u s e s , . . .' the first introduces the Achaean Catalogue, the second the turn to defeat in Agamemnon's άριστεία, the third and fourth the climax of the last Achaean advance led by Ajax, and the defeat when an Achaean ship is fired, as Ajax is forced to withdraw. The rank and function of Ajax implied in the third and fourth invocations is foretold by the less formal invocation at the end of the Catalogue of Book B. Each of these invocations is, in some way or other, related to a dramatic turn of events. O n e might even say that the extensive invocation of Book Β and its answer in the Catalogue prepares for the series of Achaean reverses that follow. For, the heroes of the Catalogue are the army of Agamemnon, and by Zeus' decree are to be beaten back to the ships, because Agamemnon dishonoured Achilles. 42 Why does the singer call on the Muses at these crucial points? There are two aspects to the answer. In so far as an invocation to the Muses is a formulaic poetic device for composition, their function is to mark such crucial points. But it is rarely, if ever justified to assume for early oral 38

Cf. Leaf on Π 112; cf. Minton, 226f.: the only passage in which the pattern 'crisis-struggle-defeat' seems to be clear is Agamemnon's aristeia with its invocation. 39 Cf. Leaf on Λ 218. 40 For detail of Agamemnon's aristeia cf. below 77 ff. 41 Kalinka, Agamemnon 36 is right about the Invocation to the Muses, but wrong in his objection to Schadewaldt, Iliasst. 55 (Klammertechnik) and Wilamowitz, Ilias and Homer 188 w h o sees πρώτος as denoting the attacker in contrast to Agamemnon's earlier opponents. 42 Cf. Minton 'Invocations' 302.

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poetry that such a device is merely technical and emptied of meaning. 43 Our interpretation of the extensive invocation of Book Β has shown that the singer desires from the Muses the exciting touch of immediate present reality. This is also what he seeks at the crucial turns of the action so that his singing may be full of the excitement of terrible changes of fortune, and may have the power to move his audience profoundly. What is the effect of the Homeric singer's performance of his audience? It is frequently described as 'delighting' or 'giving joy' (τέρπειν) to the singer himself like Achilles, and to his listeners. 44 It is very intense. Twice the effect of Odysseus' narration of his trials is described in these lines: 'So he spoke, and all of them stayed stricken to silence, held in thrall by the story all through the s h a d o w y chambers.' (λ 333 f. = ν 1 f., tr. Latt.)

The Greek word for 'in thrall' is κηληθμφ. It is very forceful, even suggesting the power of witch-craft. For when Circe finds that the witch-craft of neither her potion, nor her wand can touch Odysseus, she says: 'You have a mind in your breast which cannot be bewitched' (άκήλητος, κ 329). Similarly, the swineherd Eumaeus says to Penelope about the beggar Odysseus: 'Such stories he tells, he would charm the heart within you' (p 514). And again: 'Just as w h e n a man gazes at a singer, w h o having learned from the g o d s sings ravishing tales to mortal men, and they desire to listen to him incessantly whenever h e sings, thus he charmed m e sitting in m y hall.' (p 518 ff., m y tr.)

The Greek word for 'charm' (θέλγω) is stronger than the English word, and can also be used of witchcraft (κ 291, 318, 326; ε 47; ω 3). The mythical image for the intensity of this effect are the Sirens and their victims. They sing of 'whatever happens on the much-nourishing earth' (μ 191); and they are surrounded by heaps of bones of the men who have died listening, unable to break the spell (μ 44 ff.).45 The qualities of the oral poet's song which make it so bewitching are evoked in Hesiod's hymn to the Muses which forms the introduction to the Theogony.*6 The Muses are called after their nature 'Delightful' (EÖ-

43

Cf. discussion by Minton, 'Invocations' 292 and elsewhere, e . g . 294. Schadewaldt, Homers Welt 85. 45 Schadewaldt, loc. at.·, Plato compares this spell to the force of magnetism, Ion 533d and e; cf. also Kakridis, Homer Revisited 1 3 6 f . 46 Cf. Havelock, Preface to Plato 154 ff., although m y perspective is different. I certainly do not believe that the desire for 'mnemonic' ease has caused m u c h of what happens in a performance, but that m n e m o n i c ease is the c o n s e q u e n c e of a performance w h i c h 'is an act of personal commitment, of total engagement and of emotional identification', Havelock 160. 44

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τέρπη, 77), 'Delightful Dancer' (Τερψιχόρη, 78), 'Beautiful-voiced' ( Κ α λ λ ι ό π η , 79). Close to their dwelling, the 'Graces' and 'Desire' have their home, which is an image for the grace and desire-awakening quality of song as described by Homer (επε' ί μ ε ρ ό ε ν τ α ρ 519, σ 304). Their song even 'delights the great mind of Father Zeus in O l y m p u s ' (Theog. 37). 'As the fine high sound of their voice spreads abroad, the house of loud-thundering Father Zeus laughs, and the summit of snowy Olympus and the h o u s e of the immortals echo it' (40 ff.). The king who is favoured by the M u s e s is persuasive, can settle a dispute easily, and is revered by the people (81 ff.). Finally, the singer, 'servant of the Muses, by singing the fame of men of old (and this is what H o m e r does), and by praising the blessed gods that inhabit O l y m p u s (and this is what Hesiod does) can turn a man shrivelled and parched by recent grief away from his cares (98 ff., 55).47

47 This 'delight' is certainly the pleasure of entertainment. But it is also more. The overall theme of the Odyssey is ethical: the suitors are punished for their misdeeds. So is the Theme of the Iliad, as we shall see in part III. The subject of Hesiod's Theogony is the coming-to-be of the world in the form of the family-tree of divine beings. To us poems with ethical and cosmological content are didactic, and therefore not literature of entertainment. But our opposition between teaching and entertaining, or learning and being amused, does not belong to ancient Greece. There one learns in one's 'leisure time' (σχολή). Cf. Havelock, The Greek Concept of Justice 31.

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Chapter 3 The 'plan' of the Iliad, and its dramatic effect Let us imagine Homer with his lyre, in a kings's hall after dinner or at a public festival after sundown, setting out to sing his most famous tale, the Iliad. How is it possible for him to control the mass of people and events which occur in his story? And how will his singing work out in terms of the hours of a night, or more than one night? The Yugoslav singer has a 'plan' which he follows and 'which he has learned along with the other elements of his profession'. It is the 'skeleton' of his narrative. 1 Similarly, 'the lakon as the dalang learns it is hardly more than an outline, consisting of a bare description of what happens in each of a half-dozen to a dozen major scenes, which scenes are in fact a series of encounters in which the ruling lords of one kingdom meet those of another and either talk or fight'. 2 'Into this general schematic outline the dalang weaves noble speeches, humorous episodes, and noisy wars until he stretches a story which takes only a few minutes to tell (and is usually but a very minute part of the whole Mahabharata cycle) into a performance lasting the whole night.' 3 In north east Malaysia, a small percentage of dalangs 'possess written records of parts of their repertoire. These manuscripts were all made by the owners themselves, and their sources were almost entirely oral.' 4 The content was almost always handed on orally, and the manuscripts were written hurriedly and hardly useful to anyone except the owner. 5 Is there such a plan in the Iliad?6 Its organisation would be bound to reflect the conditions of the singer's performance, namely, that at a fesLord, Singer 99. Geertz, The Religion of Java 264. 3 Geertz, op. cit. 2 6 6 ; more detail in Santoso 12 ff. 4 Cf. Patzer, Dichterische Kunst und poetisches Handwerk 47 on ύπομνήματα, 'Gedächtnisstützen.' 5 Sweeney, Ramayana 52 f.; Brandon, Thrones of Gold 33 f. translates the word lakon as 'play', that does not however mean a written script, but the 'story'. The written form of such plays is in Java called pakem, 'performance guides', which 'date from only a few hundred years ago', and are a 'shorthand record of the way a lakon already has been performed, perhaps for decades or centuries'. There are also fuller pakem. 1

2

6 Hainsworth, "The Criticism of an Oral Homer' 9 0 ff. rightly sets aside the wholesale assertions of Bowra, Combellack and Notopoulos about the loose construction and 'paratactic' nature of the Homeric epics. His own view is that both Homeric poems 'combine brief and strong dramatic plots with broad expanses of paratactic narrative' (95). I

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tival h e w o u l d h a v e t o s i n g f o r a n u m b e r o f n i g h t s , a n d in all p r o b a b i l i t y whole n i g h t s , in t h e e a r l y t i m e s o f e p i c s i n g i n g . W e m u s t l o o k f o r divis i o n s in t h e p o e m w h i c h a r e r e g u l a r l y d i s t r i b u t e d o v e r t h e w h o l e o f its l e n g t h , g i v i n g a r e a s o n a b l y e v e n d i s t r i b u t i o n in t i m e ; 7 a n d this p r e s u p p o s e s , o f c o u r s e , a n u n d i s t u r b e d p e r f o r m a n c e a s at t h e festival at D e l o s o r t h e P a n i o n i a at M y c a l e o r , w i t h luck, at a k i n g ' s p a l a c e . S u c h a divis i o n h a s b e e n d i s c o v e r e d b y J. A . D a v i s o n . 8 H e n o t i c e d t h a t t h e i n d i v i d ual ' b o o k s ' v a r y t o o m u c h in l e n g t h t o h a v e b e e n u n i t s w i t h i n t h e p o e t ' s p e r f o r m a n c e : B o o k Ε h a s 9 0 9 lines, B o o k Τ 4 2 4 lines, t h a t is, less t h a n half of B o o k E. O n the other hand, g r o u p s of four books vary, proport i o n a t e l y , m u c h l e s s . T h e l o n g e s t g r o u p is t h a t o f B o o k s Ν - Π w i t h 2 9 2 7 lines, a n d t h e s h o r t e s t o f B o o k s P - Y w i t h 2 3 0 4 l i n e s . O n t h e basis o f f i e l d w o r k a n d e x p e r i m e n t 9 , it is likely t h a t t h e p e r f o r m a n c e o f a n a v e r agree with the first part of this statement, and hope to substantiate it in what follows in my text. The second part could be countered only by a complete interpretation of the Iliad. I will deal with one point raised by Hainsworth on p. 95. There appears to be no special reason why Agamemnon should begin the rampage on this occasion and not, for example, at the first Greek attack in Book E.' The 'plan' of the Iliad shows that there is good reason for Agamemnon leading the attack in this, the second 'advance' of the Achaeans, and not in the first when Diomedes leads, nor in the third where the two Ajaxes, especially Telamonian Ajax, lead. Since these three 'advances' change from forceful aggression to strenuous defence, the brilliant aggressive fighter Diomedes is bound to lead in the first movement, and Ajax, the traditional defensive fighter in the third. Since Agamemnon as the High King must have an aristeia and lead his army at some conspicuous point in order to be capable of becoming Achilles' peer in the end, the poet is bound, by the 'logic' of his composition, to make him lead the 'rampage' of Book Λ which is the second 'advance' movement soon to be followed by a drastic reverse. Hainsworth actually has the key to a view different from the one he asserts when he says: 'In the whole passage Homer is working up to a major Greek reverse as required by the nature (I should prefer to say 'plan' or 'plot') of the Iliad.' Cf. also schol. on Ε 1 about the sequence of aristeia. - The relation of Hector's battle actions to those of Aeneas, his potential rival to the succession in the Trojan kingship, and to Sarpedon, the man destined to precede him into death is too complex to be dealt with here. For other suggestions for the 'plan' of the Iliad cf. Bowra, 'Composition', Companion to Homer 43, Schadewaldt, Der Aufbau der Ilias 24, 39, Whitman, Homer and the Heroic Tradition 249 ff„ esp. 257 ff. 7 In the 'plans' given by Schadewaldt, Aufbau 24 (Books A - I , Α - Σ ; Τ - Ω ) and WadeGery, The Poet of the Iliad 15 f. (Books A - I ; Κ - Σ 353; Σ 354-Ω), the third performance would be too short for a three night or day festival performance, quite apart from considerations of content. Cf. above 28. 8 Davison, Thucydides, Homer and the "Achaean Wall"' 2 3 - 7 ; cf. Thornton, People and Themes XIII. 9 Notopoulos, 'Studies' 12 summarizing the results from fieldwork estimates the rate of singing hexameters as 'approximately 10 verses per minute', 26,9 hours for the Iliad and 20,7 for the Odyssey. For the results of experimentation cf. Davison, op.cit. 24, referring to a performance in Tübingen: about 11 lines a minute; Mary Knox, '"Homerathlon" I, the Iliad performed', The Classical Outlook 9: about 23 hours; Lombardo and Nails, '"Homerathlon" II: An Odyssey Reading', op.dt. 10: in 13 hours. I owe knowledge of these readings to Mary Knox.

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age group of four books would take not quite four hours. This would mean that the Iliad might be performed in three nights (or days), two such groups being sung each night. With time for a rest between the two parts and probably more often, the performance would take between eight and nine hours. 1 0 This corresponds closely to the time of singing of the Uzbek storyteller and the dalang in Java and Malaysia. 11 Davison thinking of the performance of the epic as a whole at the Panathenaean festival at Athens suggests that the poems were recited over 3 days, with 2 sessions each day. He imagines a team of 4 rhapsodes sharing the recitation, each taking one book in each session. This might be right for the sixth century B. C. and after. But there is no evidence for such a division of labour in Homer. So far as the audience is concerned, the Athenians were used to spending a whole day in the theater watching a tragedy from early in the morning, then two more tragedies, one satyr-play, and one comedy towards the end of the day. In the twelveh o u r day, two hours at most can be assumed as available for intervals so that the audience spent ten hours watching and listening, a time-span comparable to the time assumed for epic performance. 1 2 If then the time of performance of the Iliad appears to be divided up in this regular way, one is bound to ask whether the organisation of the story itself corresponds to those near-even spans of singing." I hope to show that this is the case. A group of four books will be called a 'canto'. The Iliad is an epic of war. The greater part of the action in the poem consists in the movements of the two hostile parties of the Achaeans and the Trojans back and forth over the plain between the walls of Troy and the Achaean ships. 14 In the first canto, the wrath of Achilles arising from a quarrel with Agamemnon causes through Zeus, the highest god, the renewal of battle which is elaborately described, Cantos 2, 3, and most of 4 are shaped on a common pattern: in each case, the Achaeans first advance victoriously, being helped in cantos 2 and 4 by gods, Athena, Hera, and Poseidon; and then are increasingly defeated by Hector and his Trojans with the help of Zeus. 15 Towards the end of canto 4, a new movement begins which occurs twice. Patroclus, attacking, traverses the plain to the walls of Troy where he is killed by Hector. In the first part of canto 5, his body is brought back across the plain by the 10

On the book-division cf. below 57. " Cf. above 31. 12

Webster, Greek Theater Production 3.

13

Acceptance of this organisation implies acceptance of Book Κ as an authentic part of Homer's Iliad. For my defense of Book K, cf. below 83 ff. and Appendix 3. Nicolai, Darstellungseinheiten 138 does not believe that there are any 'definite units of performance' {feste Vortragseinheiteri). 14 Cf. H e l l w i g , Raum und Zeit im homerischen Epos 10. 15

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Cf. chapter 5 for 'doubling' etc.

Achaeans defending him against the pursuing Trojans. At the end of canto 5, Achilles sets out into battle, and in the first half of canto 6, crosses the plain, attacking, up to the walls of Troy where he kills Hector, whose body he drags back across the plain tied to his chariot.16 The final movement of the epic is not one of bands of warriors, but of lone king Priam who travels from Troy to the cabin of Achilles, and from there carries the body of Hector back to Troy where he belongs. These movements of the two parties are, roughly, sketched on the appended chart on which the plain of Troy extends horizontally between the city walls on the right edge and the ships on the left. The passage of narrative-time is represented vertically from the top edge to the bottom edge, the cantos being marked off from each other by horizontal lines. The picture which emerges is one of three Achaean advance and retreat movements decreasing in extent, two advance and return movements by Patroclus and Achilles respectively, right to the walls of Troy and back to the ships, and finally a countermovement from Troy to the ships and back by Priam. The movements of the battle action are thus controlled by quite simple patterns within the framework of the cantos. There are, of course, in the Iliad events other than battles. Taking some account of them also, let me state the content of each canto as briefly as possible. I (Α-Δ) Agamemnon quarrelling with Achilles dishonours him by taking his captive Briseis. Achilles in anger withdraws from fighting, and sends his mother Thetis to Zeus who promises to defeat the Achaeans in order to honour Achilles. The battle is renewed. II (Ε-Θ) First movement of Achaean success led by Diomedes, and retreat: loss of control over the Trojan plain. Hector's death foreshadowed in Trojan scenes and duel with Ajax. III (I-M) Second movement of Achaean success led by Agamemnon, and further retreat: loss of the Achaean Wall breached by Hector. First moves towards a future reconciliation: Agamemnon sends Embassy to supplicate Achilles; Achilles sends Patroclus to Nestor. IV (Ν-Π) Third movement of Achaean success led by the two Ajaxes and Idomeneus 17 , and still further retreat: losses consisting in danger to the ships, one ship burned, and Patroclus, sent by Achilles to save the ships, killed by Hector.

16 It is 'appropriate' that Achilles' aristeia should be so much more extensive than that of Patroclus. 17 Cf. Ζ 435-7 where the leaders of the 'best' are named: the two Ajaxes and Idomeneus (canto 4), the Atreidae (canto 3), Diomedes (canto 2).

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Chart of 'movements' over the Trojan plain [Ν.Θ. This is intended as a helpful schema, not an exact map.] Ships

Walls of Troy

Books

Quarrel betw. Agamemnon + Achilles; Zeus' promise to Thetis

Priam with body o f Hector Key:

t oak-tree

% ford o f Scamander

Τ fig-tree θ grave o f Ilus

-5J5- rise on the plain I ] mentioned in speech

Cantos

V(P-Y) Faced with the long-fought-for body of Patroclus, Achilles renounces his anger against Agamemnon, and reenters battle to take revenge. VI ( Φ - Ω ) In a duel which follows as the climax on the battle by the river and the battle of the gods, Hector is killed by Achilles. Funeral of Patroclus; Hector's ransom and funeral.

This is the song-path, the οϊμη of the Iliad. It is more complex than the structure of the Odyssey, but simple enough to be a firm guide-line for the singer. Like in the Odyssey, 18 the basic and simplest aspect in the arrangement of events in the narrative is made in terms of 'places', namely localities on the Trojan plain; the action moves from 'place' to 'place' on the plain between Troy and the Achaean ships. The Homeric presentation of the Trojan plain is, as J. Cook has shown, 19 not a description of the actual geographical and topological nature of that plain. We are, therefore, free to assume that it is a poetic construction the landmarks of which have a definite function in the poet's story. Such landmarks are, beginning from the Trojan walls, the oak-tree, the fig-tree, the springs of Scamander, the grave of Ilus, the ford of the Xanthus-Scamander, the 'rise of the plain', and the Achaean wall. 20 But the most important local feature for the arrangement of the three advance and retreat movements in cantos 2, 3, and 4 is the Achaean wall and its ditch. The building of the wall takes place at the precise point in the sequence of events when the poet needs its existence, namely in the latter part of canto 2 (H 433 ff.). Without the wall, the stopping-place of Hector would have been entirely undefined, and there would have been no obstacle to prevent Hector from charging straight on to the Achaean ships at daybreak. The Achaean wall divides the plain in the neighbourhood of the Achaean ships into two, one might say, three portions: the plain on the Trojan side of wall and ditch, the wall and ditch themselves which constitute the site of battle in Book M, and the stretch of ground between wall and ships. The distribution of these battle-sites is closely related to the canto-division. At the end of canto 2, Hector stops in front of the ditch, and his army camps there. At the end of canto 3, the battle for the wall culminates in its being breached by Hector, and overrun by the Trojans. The narrative between Hector's stopping at the ditch and breaking through the wall comprizes 4 books. This is the most striking confirmation of our assumption of groups of 4 books. Curiously, it corresponds exactly to Books ι - μ in the Odyssey which are in-

18 19 10

Cf. Thornton, People and Themes 121. J. M. Cook, The Troad 91 f. and passim. For details of interpretation see Appendix 2 on 'the Trojan Plain'.

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disputably a poetic unit, a canto, by virtue of comprizing Odysseus' narration of his own past adventures, at the Phaeacian court. 21 Canto 4 also contains the victorious advance of Patroclus, and his death. This is a new element in the narrative, but only in part. Each retreat has represented loss to the Achaeans. Their supremacy over the Trojan plain is gone by the end of canto 2 (cf. the words of Achilles, I 352 ff.). The wall built for the protection of the ships is breached by the end of canto 3. The ship of Protesilaus is on fire and the rest of the fleet in great danger in the latter part of canto 4 (Π 122 f. and 128). At this point, Zeus' promise to Thetis, which was the cause and driving force in these events, is fulfilled. For it is Zeus' intention to let Hector throw fire into the Achaean ships in order to bring the fulfilment of his promise to Thetis to completion (O 596ff.). 2 2 But once he has seen one ship on fire, he will turn the battle away from the ships, and give glory to the Achaeans (599-602). This happens as Zeus had prophesied (O 64 f.): Achilles is still too angry to lead the attack, but sends Patroclus in his stead. Patroclus gains glory for the Achaeans and himself by driving the Trojans back to the walls of Troy, but there he is killed. This is the greatest loss of all, not for the Achaeans in general, but for Achilles himself. There could be none greater (cf. Σ 80 ff. Τ 321 ff.), the only one great enough to compel him to control his anger, and reenter the battle. While therefore formally the advance of Patroclus towards the end of canto 4 is a new element of movement, his victory ending in death is the fourth, and the heaviest loss, as far as Achilles is concerned. So far then, canto 2, 3 and 4 form extensive stretches of narrative which, while closely connected, are clearly set off against each other. It is, furthermore, striking that 3 out of the 4 Achaean 'losses', namely those which occur at the end of a canto are followed by a call for help to Achilles by the Achaeans, in the next canto. The loss of supremacy on the Trojan plain in canto 2 is followed by the 'embassy' at the beginning of canto 3. The breach of the wall at the end of canto 3 is followed by Patroclus imploring Achilles for help, towards the end of canto 4. The loss of his life at the very end of canto 4 is followed by the 'call for help' to Achilles by Antilochus and Iris in canto 5. 23 The occurrences of the 'call for help' to Achilles are then distributed over cantos 3, 4, and 5, which corresponds to the distribution of the 'losses' over cantos 2, 3, and 4.

Cf. Thornton, People and Themes 122 f. and n. 15. But note έξαίσιον άρήν Ο 598 which shows that Zeus' patience with Achilles' intransigence is sorely tried. Cf. Schadewaldt, Iliasst. 112. 21

22

2 3 The third loss of the Achaeans, namely that of the firing of the ship is, from the point of view of poetic construction, used to reinforce the loss of the wall: it adds great urgency to Patroclus' departure.

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In response to the three calls for help, the return of the hero'1* is shaped in three stages. While in canto 2 Achilles is absent, in canto 3 (Book I) he decides not to leave for home, but to fight for his own ships, in canto 4 (Book Π) he sends Patroclus as a substitute for himself, in canto 5 he decides to return to battle, and does so (Books Σ, Τ, Y). A particular feature related to the movements of advance and retreat by the Achaeans are the six invocations to the Muses discussed above. 25 While the turn of events in canto 2, that is, in the άριστεία of Diomedes, is marked by violent intervention of Zeus with thunder, fire, and lightningbolt, the other two turns are marked by invocations to the Muses. In canto 3, the culmination of Agamemnon's άριστεία and his wounding is marked by one such invocation (A 218 ff.). 26 In canto 4, the climax of the άριστεία of Ajax and the first movements of his defeat are each emphasized by an invocation, a 'doubling' which intensifies the dramatic force of this third victory and its reversal. The coherence of the three advance and retreat movements in cantos 2, 3, and 4, is emphasized by a sequence of bird omens during the fighting, one in each canto. The first two occur during the Achaean retreat movements, that is, the periods of Trojan successes in cantos 2 and 3 (Θ 247 ff. and Μ 200 ff.), the third one during the Achaean successful advances with the help of Poseidon (N 821 ff.). The first omen is an eagle sent by Zeus in reply to Agamemnon's prayer: 27 the eagle drops a kid beside Zeus' own altar at which the Achaeans worship him. The eagle corresponds to the victorious Trojans, and the kid symbolizes the weakness of the Achaeans who are yet saved. The second omen occurs in response to the desire of the Trojans to breach the Achaean wall and burn the ships: an eagle appearing on the left - which implies divine refusal of their desire - is forced to drop an aggressive snake. The image of the snake symbolizing the Achaeans is still a victim, but much more warlike and indeed dangerous to the victor. In canto 4 when Ajax challenging Hector forecasts his flight to Troy, an eagle appears on the right as a sign of divine assent to his words. The eagle symbolizes the victorious army, which points to the future, since for the time being they will soon be defeated. The strength of the symbol for the Achaeans rises from a helpless kid to a fighting snake in the grip of an eagle, to an eagle itself. These omens contribute to the connection between the three cantos. By their increasing promise of release and ultimate victory of the Achaeans, they move in counterpoint to their present, increasing defeats, and in

24 25 26 27

Lord, Singer 186ff.; Nagler, Spontaneity, chap. 5. Cf. above 41 ff. Cf. also the highly-wrought, ominous beginning of his άριστεία Λ 1 ff. Stockinger, Vorzeichen on detail of passages; cf. also Thornton, People and

Themes

53 f.

53

harmony with the great prophecies of Zeus which proclaim the same message as the omens. The neatest instance of regular distribution of a motif over the 6 cantos is that of the arming-scenes: one in each of cantos 1 to 5, and if the scene of making ready Priam's waggon is taken as a substitute for making ready chariot and horses in an arming-scene, a varied form of the motif occurs also in canto 6. 2 8 In canto 1, Paris arms in order to fight a duel with Menelaus, the lover of Helen with the husband of Helen, a vivid presentation of the cause of the Trojan War (Γ 328 ff.). The description of the arming is schematic and almost entirely formulaic. In canto 2, while the human champion Diomedes stands out by fire flaring from helmet and shield, head and shoulders (E 4ff.), two arming-scenes are given to the goddesses Athena and Hera (E 720-47. Θ 382-91). The battles in this canto are battles between gods fighting for and against human warriors. In canto 3, the arming of Agamemnon, introducing the second of the three advance and retreat movements of the Achaeans, shows in expansions of the schema the wealth and power of the great Mycenaean king in the rich detail of his corselet, shield and shield-strap. 29 In canto 4, Patroclus arms in the armour of Achilles which Hector will take from his body. The description is schematic and formulaic, as that of Paris (Π 131-33 = Γ 330-32, Π 135-38 = Γ 334-37), apart from the fact that Patroclus does not take Achilles' gigantic spear, with which Achilles will kill Hector. The longest and most brilliant arming is that of Achilles in canto 5 which includes, in addition to the hero putting on his armour, the making of that armour by Hephaestus. Finally in canto 6, Priam is not going to fight, but to plead with Achilles for Hector's body. His only 'armour', as it were, is the waggon loaded with ransom (Ω 275 f., 228-37). The yoking of the mules to the waggon described in detail has its counterpart in Hera making ready the chariot in canto 2 (E 722 ff.; cf. also the yoking of the horses in Π 145 and Τ 392 ff.). It is noteworthy that in cantos 2 to 5, the arming-scenes distinguish the Achaean side, while in 1 and 6 the royal Trojans Paris and Priam are so distinguished. Perhaps it is the idea of the ultimate issue, the Fall of Troy, which determines this distribution. Once the six-canto division is firmly grasped, further regularities in the distribution of motifs or motif-clusters emerge, all in definite relation to the above-mentioned movements of the battle-action.

2 8 On comparison of arming scenes cf. Arend, Typische Szenen 92 f f . and Tafel 6, Schema 10; Schadewaldt, Iliasst. 3 4 ; Armstrong, 'The Arming Motif in the Iliad 3 3 7 f f . ; Patzer, Dichterische Kunst und poetisches Handwerk 28 ff. 2 9 Cf. below 101 f.

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The events most important for the Achaeans, apart from battle, are the public assemblies, four in all, two in canto 1 (Books A and B), one in canto 3 (Book I), and one in canto 5 (Book T). The second and third of these are accompanied by a council of the elders, which in the former case (Book B) precedes the assembly, and in the latter (Book I) follows it, in chiastic arrangement. The first and fourth assemblies belong together: in the first assembly, the quarrel between Agamemnon and Achilles arises, from which everything originates that follows in the first four cantos. In the fourth assembly in canto 5 (Book T), Agamemnon and Achilles are reconciled, at least as far as external actions are concerned. Both these assemblies are called by Achilles (A 54, Τ 40 ff.), and he is the first speaker. The second and third assemblies are called by Agamemnon (B 50 f. I 9ff.), and he speaks first. The poet has linked the two speeches of Agamemnon tightly by a repetition of 8 lines (B 1 1 1 - 1 1 8 = I 18-25). Their identity transparently veils a reversal of the situation and of Agamemnon's attitude. In the first speech, Agamemnon has been duped by the false dream sent to him by Zeus into believing that he will conquer Troy this very day (B 12, 37, 66). In order to provoke the weary army into renewed battle, he dupes them saying that 'Zeus had fettered him in the delusion of expecting to conquer Troy' but that 'in fact' (νϋν Β 114) 30 he had planned to deceive him, and 'now' ordered him to return home without success. Here, Agamemnon having been deceived deceives the army for the purpose of 'testing' them, 31 but actually speaks the truth unwittingly when he says that Zeus has bound him in delusion. By the beginning of canto 3, any hope of a quick conquest of Troy is gone, and Agamemnon despairs of its ever coming to pass. When he repeats his own words of Book B, he now acknowledges the truth of his own words, namely, that Zeus had bound him in delusion, 32 but he goes too far in assuming that he must return home without taking Troy. The doubly chiastic pattern of the assemblies and councils ( a b ] b bb 1 a ) is distributed over cantos 1, 3, and 5. 3 3 A similar sense of balance and contrast between the cantos is evident in the arrangement of the divine interventions. In the last part of canto 2, Zeus calls a divine assembly (Θ 1 ff.) and prohibits any intervention of the other divinities in the human battle. In the last part of canto 5, he 3 0 vOv here denotes both a present understanding of a past event, άπάτην βουλεύσατο, and a present event κελεύει. 3 1 Cf. People and Themes, Thornton 5 1 ; Katzung, Die Diapeira in der Iliashandlung 4 9 f. 3 2 Agamemnon recognizes his own misdeed already in Β 378, but does not acknowledge it until Book I. 3 3 The assembly in canto 2 (H 3 8 2 - 4 1 2 ) is so slight in content and so brief that it cannot be classed with the other four. There are also councils separate from assemblies, e.g. in Books Κ and Ξ 27ff.

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again calls an assembly of the gods, and this time commands them all to join their own side of the human battle while he himself will stay on Olympus (Y iff.)· Zeus' purpose in prohibiting the intervention of other gods is to be unimpeded in beating back the Achaeans and so fulfilling his promise to Thetis. His purpose in ordering all the gods into battle when this promise is fulfilled is to prevent Achilles, who has returned to the fighting, from conquering Troy against the ordinance of fate (Y 25 ff.). The prohibition in canto 2 is preceded in the same canto by gods fighting on both sides of the human battle.34 The command to intervene in canto 5 is followed by a battle of the gods who first join the human contestants, but later fight each other directly. The connection between the two divine battles is made explicit by the words of Ares who in challenging Athena reminds her of their former encounter (Φ 396 ff. Ε 850 ff.).35 In both battles, the pro-Achaean deities Athena and Hera are victorious. In canto 6, Athena lays low Ares and Aphrodite, as, supported by Hera, she did through and with Diomedes in canto 2. In canto ό, Hera, for her part, chastises Artemis mercilessly, and Artemis flees to Zeus on Mount Olympus for consolation, as Aphrodite and Ares did in canto 2. In addition, Aeneas is rescued by divinities from one of the leading Achaean warriors in both cantos 2 and 5: from Diomedes by Aphrodite and Apollo, in canto 2; from Achilles by Poseidon, in the last part of canto 5. The correspondence between Diomedes and Achilles - Diomedes has been called a substitute for Achilles in the early part of the epic - is here made explicit by the structure of the narrative. To sum up, the six-canto division proposed by Davison on purely numerical and on practical grounds of performance is supported by the organisation of the poem's narrative content in various ways. Each of the three advance and retreat movements of the Achaeans is contained within one canto, namely 2, 3, and 4, the ends of cantos 2 and 3 being decisively marked by the Achaean Wall. Each of the 3 cantos culminates in a crucial loss for the Achaeans. In each subsequent canto (3, 4, and 5), the Achaeans send a 'call for help' to Achilles a phase of whose reentry into battle follows on each one. The regular distribution and obviously deliberate arrangement of the invocations to the Muses, of the three bird-omens, of the arming-scenes, of public assemblies, and of Zeus' commands to the gods as a body also come to light on the ground-pattern of the six-canto division. This division is thereby, I suggest, demonstrated as being part of the poet's plan for his poem. 34 The 'prohibition' is also f o l l o w e d b y attempts to intervene by Hera and Athena at the end of canto 2, and by actual interventions under cover of deceit b y Poseidon and Hera in canto 4. 35 Cf. Scheibner, Der Aufbau des 20. und 21. Buches 102.

56

As for the points of division between the cantos, those between cantos 2 and 3, 3 and 4, and 4 and 5, are marked by a change from the Trojan to the Achaean side. Canto 2 (Book Θ) ends with Hector triumphant and, together with his army, waiting to attack. Canto 3 (Book I) begins with the depressed mood of the Achaeans, a brief reference to the watch of the Achaeans making the connection. 36 Canto 3 ends with Hector and the Trojans conquering the Wall, a brief mention of the Achaeans' flight (M 470b and 471a) forming the connection to what follows. Canto 4 (Book N) begins with Zeus turning his eyes away from the battle-field and Poseidon making ready to help the Achaeans. Canto 4 ends with Hector killing Patroclus and attempting to kill Automedon, the charioteer of Achilles. His escape (Π 866 f.) points to Achilles' return which is the outcome of the next canto. Canto 5 begins with the Achaeans' defense of the body of Patroclus. We shall see that the five-fold series of the motif-sequence representing this 'defense' comprizes Book Ρ and part of Book Σ.37 The divisions between cantos 1 and 2, and 5 and 6 are less obvious, but similar to each other. Between the end of Book Δ and the beginning of Book E, there is no change from one party to the other, but from renewed general fighting of the two armies which is evenly balanced (Δ 422-544) to a specific battle-action, the άριστεία of Diomedes which fills Books Ε and O, 38 and has been prepared for earlier in Book Δ (365-421). Similarly at the end of Book 20, Achilles reenters the battle, in earnest at line 3 5 3.39 His duel with Hector is being 'prepared' for through the death of Polydorus and the twofold encounter with Hector. 40 The image of Achilles at the end of Book Y is a general picture of his devastating blood-spattering charge (490-503). A new battle-episode begins in Book Φ with his attack on the Trojans, namely, the battle in and around the river. This in turn is the base of a three-fold structure which rises to the battle of the gods, and comes to its climax in the duel between Achilles and Hector. 41 In each case, the poet places a pause between a description of general fighting and a specific episode in the battle. The division between Books Y and Φ presents however one difficulty: the subject of 'he pursued' (δίωκε Φ 3) is taken for granted as be36 Wilamowitz, Die Mas und Homer 32 stresses the closeness of connection between Books Θ and I, but see Broccia, La Forma Poetica dell'Iliade 29 ff. 37 Cf. below 86 ff. 38 Cf. Thornton, "The aristeia of Diomedes'. 39 The 'exchange' with Aeneas is more a matter of speeches than of fighting. Cf. Scheibner, Der Auflau des 20. und 21. Buches 2 w h o gives to the passage Y 353-503 the title 'the general battle on the plain'. 40 Schadewaldt, Iliasst. 71 f. 41 Reinhardt, Die Ilias und ihr Dichter 449f.; cf. also Whitman, Homer and the Heroic Tradition 139 ff.

57

ing Achilles; his name is not mentioned. 42 Perhaps this is unimportant, because cantos 5 and 6 would be sung consecutively in the same night, even if with a pause between them. It is also made so emphatically clear at the end of Book Y that Achilles will fight to win glory that it would not easily be forgotten. Who would at this stage in the action be those pursued but the Trojans, or the pursuer but Achilles? If Homer himself in composing the Iliad organized his narrative in six cantos, the division into smaller units within the cantos must have been a matter of expediency in writing. The division into 24 books - which means 4 books to each canto - would have been made consequent upon the establishment of the 24 letter alphabet. This division is clearly made reasonably so that, as far as possible, each roll comprised a complete whole of sense. But it has not always been possible. Books Ρ and Σ up to line 232 or 238 are one, closely-knit series of the motif-sequence 'a call for help'. 43 This one instance puts, I believe, the assumption of the Books being composed as units for rhapsodic recitation out of court. On the other hand, such Books as I, K, or Ω are rounded units suitable to be selected for separate recitation. 44 But so are smaller portions, such as the 'making of the shield of Achilles' (Σ 369-617) or Hector's visit to Troy (Z 237-502) and others. It is inherent in the nature of large-scale oral composition that a series of motif-sequences is expanded into a series of well-rounded 'blocks'. 45 So far we have considered the construction of the Iliad as a sequence of 6 cantos and the distribution over those cantos of a variety of subjects, from an analytical point-of-view. Let us now return to the viewpoint of the creative singer, and ask what our findings mean in the perspective of his 'planning' the poem. Working within the time-scheme of three nights or six half-nights he would have to decide on the distribution of the content of his story over these six stretches of performance. The three advance and retreat movements of the armies with their consequent losses, the 'calls for help' and the three phases of the hero's return, the public assemblies, and Zeus' prohibition and command to all the gods clearly occur where they do occur with a deliberate regard for the impetus and for the proportions of the whole poem. What is more, in some of these features of composiCf. Broccia, Forma Poetica 20 £. Cf. below 86 ff. 4 4 Cf. Introd. 11 and Appendix 3. 4 5 For a different view of the relation between the whole poem and the 'books' cf. Deichgräber, Der letzte Gesang der Ilias 9 ff. and passim. For discussions of book-division cf. Lesky, RE Hamerns 839, History of Greek Literature 2 3 f . ; Broccia, Forma Poetica and Heubeck's criticism in Homerische Frage 3 4 f . ; Notopoulos, 'Studies' 9ff. with lists of references to scholars arguing for the unity of the 'books' 67 n. 23 and for Alexandrian origin of the book-division n. 31. 42 43

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tion, the poet works towards an escalation, a rising towards a climax of intensity. The third Achaean advance is fought on two fronts instead of one 4 6 ; and the third retreat together with the merely temporary advance of Patroclus leads to a double loss, with the burning of one ship and the death of Patroclus. The third 'call for help' is also 'doubled', being devided between Antilochus and Iris. 47 The three, perhaps more ornamental features, namely, the invocations to the Muses, the bird-omens, and the arming-scenes, each show the same tendency towards intensification. There is no invocation to the Muses in the first advance and retreat movement, one in the second movement, and there are two in the third. The three bird-omens prophesy an increasing superiority in battle for the Achaeans 48 , and of the 5 scenes of actual arming the last, that is, the arming of Achilles is the most extensive and most splendid. But the poet's striving for intensity and heightened excitement can also be seen on a deeper level, on the level of dramatic suspense. The fact that the poet at times calls on the Muses at crucial 'turns' in the sequence of events 49 means that at those points the singer needs an access of inspired energy to swing his story and, with the story, his audience into the opposite direction. Such 'turns' are the basic and characteristic form of Homer's dramatic narrative. In each case, whether a big or small-scale action is represented, a goal in the action is anticipated, but it is either retarded, or the reverse of what is expected takes place for a time: then events take a 'turn', and anticipation is fulfilled, if not wholly, at least to a satisfying degree. Duckworth who was the first to describe it 50 called this handling of dramatic tension the 'suspense of anticipation' in contrast to the later, and modern 'suspense of ignorance' where the goal is not known at the outset, but is gradually revealed as it is being approached. The dramatic suspense of anticipation pervades the whole of the Iliad, as we shall see presently, and it structures each of its six cantos. In the first Book of canto 1, the goal of the action is set for a long stretch, in the quarrel-scene and by Zeus' promise to Thetis. We expect the Achaeans to be beaten in battle. 51 In Books Β to Δ, the more immediate goal

46

Michel, Erläuterungen zum Ν 135 f., also 73 η. 1 9 ; 83 ff., esp. 104 (fighting on the

left). Cf. below 86ff., esp. 91. Cf. above 53. 4 9 Cf. above 41 ff. 5 0 Duckworth, Foreshadowing and Suspense 1 1 6 f . ; Heubeck, Studien zur Struktur der llias 21 f.; Schadewaldt, Iliasst., see index s. v. beinahe; Reinhardt, llias on fast 107 f f . Ν. B. the stock-formula for a 'turn', e.g. Β 1 5 5 f . "Ενθα κεν Άργείοισιν ύπέρμορα νόστος έτύχθη,/εΐ μή Άθηναίην "Ηρη πρός μΟθον έειπεν. 51 Cf. Owen, The Story of the Iliad 13. On the following cf. Schadewaldt, Iliasst. 153 ff.; Heubeck, Studien ζ. Struktur der llias 2 0 f f . ; Hellwig, Raum und Zeit 1 - 1 3 . 47

48

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of the action, namely the renewal of battle in the course of which that promise will be fulfilled is retarded six times. Three times the expected forward-movement of the action is stalled by reversals: the Achaean army, 'tested' by Agamemnon rushes to the ships to go home, but is turned back by Odysseus 5 2 ; in the duel between Paris and Menelaus with Helen as the prize, Paris is defeated, but snatched away to safety by Aphrodite; the treacherous arrow of Pandarus strikes Menelaus, which might have been fatal, but turns out not to cause a mortal wound. 53 This treachery leads to the anticipated beginning of battle. In addition to these reversals, there are also three expansions which broaden and delay. The motif used by the poet in each of them is the 'review of heroes': in Book Β in the form of Catalogues of the Achaean ships and of the Trojan army, in Book Γ in Helen's answers to Priam's questions about particular Achaean heroes, in Book Δ in Agamemnon's marshalling of the warriors. These three 'reviews' are so different from each other that the sameness of the motif becomes obvious only to a rather abstract inquiry into the structure. The standpoint is varied. In the Catalogues we view the field with the eye of the poet. In Book Γ, we are on the wall of Troy with Helen and Priam looking down on the Achaeans. In Book Δ, we go around the Achaean troops with Agamemnon. The dramatic tension of this magnificent introduction to the renewal of battle derives from the clearly envisaged goal towards which the action must move, and the exciting frustrations of this movement by reversals and expansions which are released into the anticipated forward-movement. Cantos 2, 3, and 4 are, as we have seen, constructed on a common pattern. The goal of the action is determined by Zeus' promise to Thetis to beat back the Achaeans by Trojan victories. 54 Unexpectedly, the Achaeans are successful to begin with in each canto, and are then defeated by the will and intervention of Zeus according to his promise. The poet has constructed a massive crescendo of deepening disaster. In canto 2, the brilliant aggressive fighter Diomedes leads victoriously. Helped by Athena and Hera he wounds even gods, Aphrodite and Ares. But then he is checked by the lightning and thunderbolt of Zeus (Θ 75 f., 133 ff.). Hector advances to the ditch and wall of the Achaean camp, and the Trojans spend the night on the open plain, as they have

5 2 On the πείρα Katzung, Die Diapeira in der Iliashandlung; Thornton, People and Themes 5 1 ; Griffin, Homer on Life 9. 5 3 Cf. Hellwig, Raum und Zeit 4 f. who, however, does not separate off the wounding of Menelaus as a third instance of a 'turn'; Reinhard, Ilias 107 f. who omits the duel between Paris and Menelaus. 5 4 The content of Zeus' promise is further defined by his prophecy in Θ 473 ff.; cf. Schadewaldt, lliasst. 1 1 2 f .

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never dared to do before (cf. I 352 ff.)· The foreshadowing of Hector's death in his meeting with his own people, especially with Andromache (Book Z) and in his ominous duel with Ajax (Book H)55 forms a powerful counterpoint to his victorious advance. In canto 3, we expect the Achaeans to be beaten further according to Zeus' promise who had, towards the end of canto 2, forbidden the proAchaean gods to participate in the fighting. The initial successes of the Achaeans are in consequence slighter; they are also more varied in character. The motivator of action is Agamemnon, helped by Nestor. 56 The Embassy has little success except in so far as Achilles is not going home, and may return to the fighting (Book I). The night raid of Diomedes and Odysseus is an effective attack on the Trojan camp, but on a minor scale (Book K). 57 In the victorious advance of his άριστεία, Agamemnon almost reaches the walls of Troy (Λ 181). But then he is wounded, the 'turn' being marked by an invocation to the Muses, as we have seen. 58 The Achaeans are forced to retreat, and with the help of Zeus, Hector breaches the Achaean Wall (Book Μ end), and the Trojans swarm through and over it. The Achaeans are now in immediate danger. Zeus' promise seems close to fulfillment. But at the beginning of canto 4, the Trojan advance is once again, against all expectation, reversed. Poseidon, first alone, and then in collusion with Hera, works for the Achaeans. 59 This is an action of disobedience to Zeus' prohibition (Θ iff.), a rebellion made possible by stealth. 60 Poseidon's 'standing' (τιμή) in the divine hierarchy is almost equal with that of Zeus (O 186) so that this rebellion is very serious. On the human level, too, intensity is increased: the leading champions of the Achaeans work in two groups: while in canto 2 Diomedes is the main champion accompanied by Sthenelus, his charioteer, in canto 4 the leading heroes are the two Ajaxes accompanied by Teucrus, on the one hand, and Idomeneus and Meriones, on the other, 61 and the battle is accordingly fought on two separate fronts. 62 The Achaeans succeed in

5 5 Bergold, Der Zweikampf des Paris und Menelaus 193 π. 2 suggests that Ajax 'grazing' Hector's neck (einen Schnitt beibringt) points to the way in which Achilles kills him X 324-7. 56 Cf. above n. 6. 57 Cf. below 83. 58 Cf. above 43. 59 For the 'foreshadowing' of this collusion in Book Θ cf. below 69. 6 0 In the first round, Zeus has turned his attention elsewhere, and Poseidon acts in disguise; in the second round, Zeus is beguiled by Hera's love-making into sleep so that Poseidon can fight openly, cf. Michel, Erläuterungen zum Ν 61. 61 Meriones has more standing, independently of Idomeneus, than Sthenelos has in relation to Diomedes. " Michel, op. tit., 135 f.

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chasing the Trojans back through the ditch (Ο 1 f.). The expected 'turn', marked by two invocations to the Muses 6 3 , is represented in several full scenes in which Zeus removes Hera and Poseidon out of the action, and calls Apollo, protecting divinity of Troy, into it giving him the αίγίς, divine instrument of victory. The consequence is the worst defeat yet suffered by the Achaeans: Telamonian Ajax, the great defensive fighter, can no longer hold out, and one ship is set on fire by Hector. Here the goal set by Zeus' promise to Thetis is reached. But in the meantime a new goal has been established by Zeus' prophecy (O 63 ff., cf. Θ 473 ff.) that when the Achaeans fall back in flight onto Achilles' ship he will send out Patroclus who will be killed by Hector; Achilles in anger will kill Hector; finally, the battle will be permanently reversed (O 69 ff.) until Troy falls by Athena's counsel. The fourth canto culminates in the fulfillment of the first stage in this expected sequence: Patroclus is sent out by Achilles, and dies at the hands of Hector. At the beginning of canto 5 (Book P), we expect Achilles to return to the battle in order to avenge his friend. He does so at the end of the canto. The approaches to this goal are broadly told, in the long fight for the retrieval of Patroclus' body (Book P), in Achilles' grief in the presence of Thetis and his decision to take vengeance driven as he is by his new wrath against Hector, in Hephaestus making new armour for Achilles - a scene which substantially retards the broad forward-moving flow of events - in the assembly of the Achaeans in which Achilles revokes his wrath, and in a sequence of events preparing for the duel between Achilles and Hector. At the end of Book Y , Achilles is, as we have been anticipating all along, in full battle action. At the beginning of the last canto, we anticipate the death of Hector, and also the answer to a long-posed question (H 76 ff.) 64 of what is to happen to his body. A broadly told and powerfully escalating sequence of events leads up to the duel. Achilles fights with the Trojans in the river Xanthus, then with Xanthus himself, the river-god and protector of Troy who is beaten at Hera's behest by the fire of Hephaestus. Then the gods wage war among themselves, some fighting for Troy, others for the Achaeans, and the latter win, which forebodes the fall of the city. The duel is briefly retarded by the 'race' of Hector and Achilles round the city walls, and Hector is killed by Achilles. The anticipated final event so far as battle action in the Iliad is concerned has taken place. But by Hector entreating Achilles to return his body to his people, a new and old - anticipation is aroused. The funeral of Patroclus with the Games contrasts by its splendour with the possible fate of Hector's

63 64

62

Cf. above 42 f. Cf. below 67 f.

body, and retards Achilles' decision to return it which is, in the end, commanded by Zeus and executed with intimate detail. Why should the poet want to anticipate his goals? And why should the audience want to know the outcome of events before hearing the events leading up to it? For, singer and audience must always be seen as in closest interaction in an oral performance. We know from Plato's Ion (535e) that listeners wanted to be deeply moved, even to tears, by the performance of an Homeric epic. O n e is bound to infer that Homer's narrative, if well performed, had this effect on a Greek audience. What part can the anticipation of goals have played in this? Anticipation reduces or even eliminates the tension of 'ignorance', as Duckworth calls it. The listener is not, in the main, bent on hearing what is going to happen, but how what he knows will happen is going to come about. He wants to know the outcome, and then, in joy and sorrow, enter into the experience of every step on the way towards it.

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Part II Homer's craft in the Iliad 'It is as though the bards held switches in their hands whose buds they could charm into leaves, side-shoots, blossoms or whole sprays, or let sleep, at will.' Arthur Hatto, 'Plot and Character in midnineteenth century Kirghiz Epic', 103.

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Chapter 4 Indication

of''goals'

Let us imagine the Homeric bard speeding along the path of his song as he sings, and his audience following every turn of his story with keen attention. A path leads to a goal. The singer setting out on a particular song sets out towards the final goal of his story, striving on the way to reach a series of intermediate goals. Each goal when made explicit by the poet arouses, as we have seen, the suspense of anticipation. Homer has a number of means for indicating such goals, often a long time before the goal itself is reached. 1 The final event and goal of the Iliad is the ransoming of Hector's body by Priam. This goal is foreshadowed in the Prelude of the first canto when the old priest of Apollo comes to Agamemnon to ransom his daughter. 2 The final goal is directly envisaged in canto 2. Hector, at the instigation of the seer Helenus, challenges one of the Achaean warriors to single combat. Before ever he knows who is going to be his opponent, he proposes the following arrangement: 'Behold the terms that I make, let Zeus be witness upon them. If with the thin edge of the bronze he takes my life, then let him strip my armour and carry it back to the hollow ships, but give my body to be taken home again, so that the Trojans and the wives of the Trojans may give me in death my rite of burning. But if I take his life, and Apollo grants me the glory, I will strip his armour and carry it to sacred Ilion and hang it in front of the temple of far-striking Apollo, but his corpse I will give back among the strong-benched vessels so that the flowing-haired Achaians may give him due burial and heap up a mound upon him beside the broad passage of Helle.' (Η 76-86, tr. Latt.)

Throughout all that follows no further reference is made to this proposal, neither by Hector himself, nor by his opponent Ajax. It is without consequences, and therefore pointless in the immediate context of the situation. It is also unmotivated, because Helenus has told Hector that he has just heard the voice of the gods, and that it is not yet Hector's destiny to die (52 f.). This means that Hector's words are irrelevant to 1

Cf. Duckworth, Foreshadowing 6 ff. for more detailed discussion of Homer's use of 'foreshadowing'; Schadewaldt, Iliasst. 15 and n. 1. 2 Cf. below 113.

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the person of Hector at that point in the story and to the actions that follow. The question of the fate of Hector's body is raised again by Hector before his duel with Achilles (X 256-9), and again when he is dying (X 338-43).3 Here, Hector's two requests are motivated, and receive a reply each time. The final answer is given at the end of the poem. What is the point of Hector's proposal in Book H? It functions as an anticipation of the final problem of the Iliad which is: what is to happen to Hector's body. For the poet, in this instance, attention to the goal of his story is more important than the creation of an illusion of verisimilitude. His attention to the goal of the narrative has two aspects. It relates to himself as a performer of a long poem, and to his audience as taking it in. He himself in singing has to keep the goal in mind in order to keep his story moving steadily in the right direction. He therefore puts words into Hector's mouth at the early stage, that is, in the first night of singing, the meaning of which will become crucial much later, in the third night of singing. By doing so he puts down in actually sung words a 'Leitmotif' in his own aural memory in order to prepare for the further reaches of his song, or, in different imagery, a 'sign-post' to mark the direction of his path. The singer's audience, on the other hand, would become aware of the irrelevance of Hector's words in the immediate situation, and they would realize that the poet here was pointing forward not only to Hector's actual death, but more specifically to the treatment of Hector's body becoming an issue, at a later stage, if not at the end of the whole poem. By a 'pointer' of this kind, the poet not only guides his own singing, but he also arouses the anticipation of his audience. Another instance of the same method of foreshadowing occurs on a smaller scale in canto 2. Athena who has inspired Diomedes with his father's strength warns him not to fight with any gods who might come to meet him in battle, except Aphrodite. It is quite fitting to assume that a god might come to oppose Diomedes, since he himself is helped by Athena. But the poet's singling out of Aphrodite is unmotivated in the context. It becomes significant when Aeneas who is Aphrodite's son notices the raging Diomedes (E 166), and together with Pandarus approaches to attack him. When Sthenelos warns Diomedes of the danger of the imminent attack he explicitly mentions the fact that Aeneas is the son of Aphrodite (248). But Diomedes relying on the support of Athena (256) kills Pandarus, fells Aeneas, and wounds Aphrodite when she comes to rescue her son (312 ff.). Athena's warning that Diomedes must not attack any god except Aphrodite is, therefore, again a 'sign-post', 3

Two lines of the latter passage are identical with two lines in Hector's proposal in Book Η: X 342 f. = Η 79 f. The poet no doubt knew where he had used these lines before, some of the audience perhaps.

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unmotivated and irrelevant where it occurs, but pointing forward to subsequent events. The goal-directedness is so strong in this part of the narrative that the idea of a god rescuing or not rescuing a man pervades the minor incidents of the action from the beginning: Hephaestus rescues one of the sons of his priest (E 23); Artemis who had taught Scamandrius does not save him (49 ff.); Phereclus, beloved by Athena and builder of the fateful ships of Paris, is not warned by any oracles, and is killed by Meriones (59 ff.). T h e singer's mind is 'set' on this motif, and leads his audience in the same direction. The same procedure as in the Diomedeia occurs several times in Book K . F. Klingner 4 characterizes it in this way: 'The poet does not shrink from mentioning things which at the moment are unprepared for and even unintelligible, but which anticipate future events he has in mind'. For instance, the question of Menelaus whether Agamemnon is going to send out spies ( K 38) which is not answered by Agamemnon is a 'preparation', or we might say 'sign-post' for Nestor's later proposal of doing just that ( K 204 ff.). 5 This 'sign-posting' is even more astonishing to us when an event is said not to be the case or a proposal is made and not accepted. After Zeus' prohibition of divine intervention (except his own) in the battle in canto 2 (Θ i f f . ) , Hera angered by Hector's boasts (Θ 1 9 8 f f . ) asks Poseidon to be her ally in defending the Achaeans against the Trojans, even though this would be against the will of Zeus. Poseidon refuses. 6 This brief scene (15 lines) is the second of three divine scenes distributed through the narrative of battles. Immediately after Zeus' prohibition, Athena has wrung from her father the permission to aid the Achaeans by words of counsel (Θ 3 0 ff.). Later when Hector has chased the Achaeans through the ditch back to the ships, Athena and Hera set out to intervene in battle on behalf of the Achaeans. But Zeus sends them back with severe threats. The Hera and Poseidon scene is then the second in this triadic sequence of scenes of rebellion against Zeus. Such rebellion is well motivated in view of events in Book Ε and in view of the partisanship in general of the two goddesses for the Achaeans. But why is Poseidon called in only to refuse collaboration? This collaboration which does not take place here, takes place on a considerable scale in canto 4. There Poseidon, concealed under the disguise of a man, turns the defeated Achaeans; and when Hera by her love-charm has deceived Zeus into sleeping, he openly leads the Achaeans in a victorious ad-

4 5 6

Klingner, 'Dolonie' 343, cf. 348. Klingner, op. tit., 342. Schadewaldt, Iliasst. 114 f.

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vance. What pointedly does not take place earlier, emphatically takes place later. Such a negative statement in the narrative may be typically expressed by 'not yet'. We have seen that Helenus can safely propose to Hector to challenge an Achaean to a duel, because he, being a seer, knows that it is 'not yet' (H 52) time for Hector to die. Helenus makes the proposal because he had 'apprehended in his mind' (44) that Apollo and Athena wanted this to happen. Here every part is fully motivated while the approach of Hector's death is ominously felt. But there are two connected instances of a 'not yet' which come as a surprise to the audience and are determined by the goal-directedness of the singer's attention. In Ρ 384-401a, the fighting for the body of Patroclus is at its fiercest. This passage is preceded by a 'not yet' passage: two men had not yet heard of the death of Patroclus, Thrasymedes and Antilochus, fighting at a distance ('on the left' 682), according to the command of Nestor, their father (377 ff.). The same passage is followed by another 'not yet': Achilles did not yet know that Patroclus was dead, because the fighting was far away from the ships (401b ff.). The first 'not yet' is completely unmotivated in the context, the second one sudden, but readily intelligible. Their interrelation which is strikingly expressed by the structural arrangement becomes explicit when Ajax in dire straits wishes for a friend to go and tell Achilles of Patroclus' death (640 ff.) and then asks Menelaus to find and send off Antilochus, son of Nestor, a speedy runner (Σ 2). The two 'not yet' statements, which encircle the climax of battle for the body of Patroclus, point forward to the messenger and the recipient of the message of Patroclus' death. Again, 'not yet' implies that those who do 'not yet' know will soon know, and the excitement of anticipation is aroused in the audience about what Achilles will do when he knows. 7 Another type of prediction by the poet consists in censuring a man for his folly in expecting success where he will certainly come to grief.8 Here the censure serves both to point the path to later events, but also to cast the shadow of tragic irony. Asius, in canto 3, attempts to attack the Achaean Wall on his chariot, while all the other Trojans obeying the warning of Polydamas leave their chariots behind them. He is called a 'fool' (M 113); he will not return alive to Troy, but be killed by Idomeneus. This duly happens in canto 4 (N 384 ff.). The folly of Asius in disobeying Polydamas, in its turn, foreshadows the folly of the Trojans applauding the violent opposition of Hector to another warning of Polydamas in canto 5:

7 8

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Cf. Β 4 1 9 f. and Schadewaldt, Iliasst. 109; also Ν 5 2 1 ; Ο 1 1 0 f f . Cf. D u c k w o r t h , op. tit., 11 f.

'fools, since Pallas Athene had taken away the wits from them. They gave their applause to Hector in his counsel of evil, but none to Poulydamas, who had spoken good sense before them.' (Σ 311 ff„ tr. Latt.)

Similarly Agamemnon who has been duped by the deceptive dream sent to him by Zeus is a 'fool' (B 38) when he expects to take Troy on that very day, and Patroclus is a 'fool' (Π 686) when he, against the command of Achilles, pursues the Trojans to their city. In all these cases, the poet is concerned to direct his own mind in singing and the attention of his audience in listening to what is to come sooner or later, thus heightening the drive of his tale and the intensity of anticipation in his listeners and casting the gloom of tragic irony over his characters. The poet can also make use of a simile to foreshadow future events. 9 An extended simile may be a 'working model of the situation', as T.B.L. Webster calls it10, and such a model may cover events which are as yet in the future. Achilles mourning is compared to a lion: 'when some man, a deer hunter, has stolen his cubs away from him out of the close wood; the lion comes back too late, and is anguished, and turns into many valleys quartering after the man's trail on the chance of finding him, and taken with bitter anger.' (Σ 319-22, tr. Latt.)

As Webster comments, 'the simile not only illustrates Achilles' grief but also the long-drawn-out action in which this grief will issue, and in the speech which follows Achilles says that he will not bury Patroclus until he has brought back Hector's arms and head.' The death of Hector is also foreshadowed in the context of Hector's own actions in a simile which seems little understood (M 41 ff.). Hector with his Trojans halting before the dangerous ditch tries to persuade his men to cross with their chariots. He is compared to a boar or lion surrounded by dogs and hunters who beset him with spears '. . . and in spite of this the proud heart feels not terror, nor turns to run, and it is his own courage that kills him.' (M 45 f., tr. Latt.)

Just as men and dogs withdraw wherever the mighty beast advances to attack, so the Trojans withdraw in fear of the ditch wherever Hector pleads with them to cross it. The simile illustrates the movements of Hector and his men, and it highlights Hector's courageous confidence. But it also foreshadows his death: 'it is his own courage that kills him', as already Andromache had said when she was going to part from him (Z 407).11 9

Duckworth, op. tit. 14 f. Webster, Homer to Mycenae 224f.; Η. Frankel, Gleichnisse 93. 11 Scott, Similes 61 η. 4 has missed this: T h e clearest example of almost total disregard of the narrative in order to convey the spirit is Μ 41'; by the 'spirit' he means Hec10

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More obvious means of keeping goals close or distant in mind are predictions by the poet himself. Called by Achilles from his tent, Patroclus 'came out, like unto Ares, and that was the beginning of evil for him' (Λ 604). 12 The death of Patroclus, already prophesied by Zeus (Θ 476. Ο 65) is here ominously intimated at the moment when the action begins which will lead to it. There are a great many instances of this kind. The most striking and perfected instrument for prediction in the poet's hands is the figure of Polydamas. He is the 'Warner', as Schadewaldt calls him. 13 He is introduced almost casually as a companion of Hector and Aeneas in canto 3 in which his career begins (Λ 57). He warns Hector four times, and Hector accepts his advice in the first and third scenes (M 60ff. Ν 725 ff.), but rejects it violently in the second and fourth scenes (M 210 ff. Σ 249 ff.), in a characteristically Homeric form of 'alternation'. Faced with the formidable ditch of the Achaeans, Polydamas advises leaving horses and chariots behind, particularly in view of the possibility of a retreat through the ditch, if the fortune of battle changes. Hector and the Trojans, apart from Asius 1 4 , obey. The warning of a possible defeat goes home. When after the description of Asius' attack, the Trojans under Hector and Polydamas are still in front of the ditch (M 195 ff.), an eagle appears on the left carrying a snake which still full of fighting-spirit strikes the neck of the eagle who is forced to drop its prey. The snake falls among the Trojans. 15 Polydamas interprets the omen: the eagle's defeat foretells the Trojans' defeat, if they break through the wall and attack the ships. The warning is viciously rejected by Hector. In canto 4, the Trojans are almost driven back to Troy from the ships when Polydamas proposes to Hector to call together the leading heroes in order to take counsel whether to attack the ships or to withdraw. Hector ostensibly accepts the proposal, but by going to the 'left of the battle' (N 765) evades the issue. Finally, in canto 4 (Σ 249 ff.) when Achilles' threefold shout has frightened the Trojans back from the body of Patroclus, Polydamas strongly advises return to the city from the ships, because now Achilles will enter the battle, and not content to fight on the plain will kill many and attack Troy itself. In their blindness, both Hector and the Trojans reject the warning. While the weightiest instances of the prediction of future events are the decisions, words of command and prophecies of Zeus, the most comprehensive prediction in the Iliad is the poet's announcement of the theme of his epic, the wrath of Achilles, the Achaeans' consequent losses, and the connection of all this with the will of Zeus. tor's confidence. This is true, but the note of death is also appropriate, and will soon be reinforced by the warning of Polydamas. Cf. H. Frankel, Gleichnisse 6 6 - 7 and 67 η. 1. 1 2 Cf. Duckworth, Foreshadowing 8 ; Schadewaldt, Iliasst. 79, Michel, Erläuterungen 85. 13 Schadewaldt, Iliasst. 104 ff. 1 4 Cf. above 70. 1 5 Ch. above 53.

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Chapter 5

Motif-sequences and their repetition with variation We have encountered many different ways in which Homer arouses anticipation in his listeners. What means does he possess in his craft to satisfy the desire of his audience to listen spellbound to all the detail of his tale leading towards the fulfillment of each anticipated goal? Homer has, on the one hand 'set' ways of dealing with subject-matter which is recurrent in his sort of stories, and, on the other, a highly developed technique of repetition, with variation and intensification of those 'set' ways. Repetition, and repetition in every variation of size, shape, and content is one of the basic and all-pervading procedures of Homeric poetry. 1 It is important to realize the implications of this principle, because they are different from, and even run counter to our own, often unacknowledged assumptions and attitudes. We tend to be contemptuous of repetition. A 'repetitive' style or story is naive or incompetent and boring. In our appreciation of music, I mean classical music, our attitude is different. A fugue is built on the repetition of one or two 'themes' in many combinations and modulations. The first movement of a sonata is built on two themes, stated, varied, the whole repeated; followed by a modulation of both themes in a different key, then a return to the first statement in enriched form. One reason, among others, for our disdain is probably that we read a story, but we hear a piece of music. In music, most of us are still in the fortunate position of the child that pleads 'again, again!' Experience is intense, and its evanescence is for the moment overcome by repetition. Repeated reading of a passage, if repetition is desired, is open to the reader at any time, but the listener depends on the musician or the story-teller for repetitions; and the enjoyment can be increased, as in a fugue or a sonata, by variations of the initial experience. In this way, oral poetry is closer to classical music, as we know it today, than to written literature. Sir F. Bartlett has made experiments on what happens when somebody hears a story and is then asked to retell it, repeatedly, after various intervals of time. He found that 'with frequent reproduction the form and items of remembered detail very quickly become stereotyped and

1

Drerup, Homerische Poetik νol. I, 4 3 9 ff.; Kakridis, Homer Revisited 76. 85.

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thereafter suffer little change'. 2 Such a settling into 'set' forms and items in repeated story-telling has been found to occur in oral story-telling in many parts of the world. In recent scholarship, the keywords for such set forms have been the 'typical scene' or the 'motif-sequence' and the 'formula', that is, roughly speaking, a repeated word-group. In Bartlett's experimental situation, these set forms had no particular function in the narrative. They seem to be the natural result of the process of 'remembering'. It is likely that the origins of set motif-sequences and formulae lie in this direction. But in the experimental situation of Bartlett and his subjects, the only audience of the person retelling the story would be Bartlett himself and perhaps some others. Such listeners' would however be 'observers', interested not in the course of the story, its events and characters, but in the processes of remembering exhibited by the subject telling the tale. In consequence, the subject would not be stimulated into making his story exciting and moving to his audience, so that there would be no desire for variation or intensification. Also the story in Bartlett's experiments is comparatively short, and the set forms and items occur once in each telling of the story. But in oral singing or telling of tales, such set forms or items occur repeatedly in one poem. This is, of course, what makes them recognizable for us today in our written texts. Let us then explore how set contents and forms, and their repetition function in the Iliad. To do this, we must in each case first establish the set form or sequence of whatever subject-matter we are investigating. Since the Iliad is an epic of war, we shall select our examples from the representation of actions in battle. The terms I shall use are the following: 'motif-sequences', and 'motifs', with their 'motif-elements'. 3 The latter may or may not be formulaic, that is, expressed in repeated words. The distinctions are somewhat arbitrary, but it is a matter of finding a terminology for the purpose of distinguishing steps in a hierarchy of importance and possible size. The most frequent motif-sequence in the Iliad is a hero's άριστεία. This is his main battle-action in the epic in which his valour is tested and proved. The sequence of the motifs in an άριστεία is typical in so far as the motifs recur, with more or less or even very little completeness in each of them. It is possible to abstract a scheme of this motif-sequence from the many άριστεΐαι of the poem. Schroeter has done this

2

Bartlett, Remembering 9 3 ; cf. a b o v e Intr. n. 34. Cf. Schadewaldt, 'Die epische Tradition', Homer 532. A 'motif-sequence' is what Lord calls a 'theme'. For the difficulties of f i n d i n g a suitable t e r m i n o l o g y cf. Banck, 'Motiv-Index chinesischer H e l d e n r o m a n e ' 2 0 9 ; H e i s s i g , 'Gedanken zu einer Motiv-Typ o l o g i e ' 11 f. M y notion of a 'motif-sequence' is v e r y similar to that of Nagler, Spontaneity 112. 3

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by analyzing the sequence of events in the extensive άριστεία of Diomedes (Book 5), and by checking and filling out the result by comparison with other such battle actions. 4 According to him, these motifs 'are not scattered at random, but they are always fitted into an ordered arrangement wherever a hero, in front of others, achieves outstanding deeds of valour.' In the main, this ordered arrangement is always the same however differently each individual motif might be handled. 5 The differences consist in 'doubling, simplification, omission, change of position of the individual motifs.' 6 It may be objected that abstracting such a general scheme of motifs for an άριστεία is a purely academic exercise, since the full sequence as a whole occurs nowhere in the Iliad. This objection disappears when the function of such a scheme in oral composition and performance is realized. The singer himself would not be aware of this series in the abstract. To him, it would be a habitual sequence which he might follow, more or less, according to his intentions in shaping his narrative. What Nagler says of formulae, 7 could well be said here: 'It was essentially an inheritance of habits, tendencies, and techniques rather than of completed entities.' The 'repertoire' 8 of the motif-sequence of an άριστεία is the following according to Schroeter: 9 X. Divine instigation: a god or goddess urges a hero into the fighting and gives him strength and the spirit to fight (μένος). This motif can take a great variety of forms. It is part of the nature and function of the gods as protectors and helpers: and, on the human side, it may comprize a hero's prayer for victory. 2. Arming and armour, which may include a description of the armour and of its manufacture. 3. Expressions of readiness for battle, e.g. fiery eyes, grim laughter, battleshout, running, or leaping from chariot, gestures with arms, e. g. brandishing

Schröter, Aristie, see bibliography. Schröter, Aristie 39. 6 Schröter, Aristie 109. This sort of analysis of a typical motif-sequence is similar to the 'typology of motifs' (Motiftypologie) which Heissig proposes for Mongolian epic in 'Gedanken zu einer strukturellen Motivtypologie des mongolischen Epos' passim, esp. 13 ff. The difference is that Schröter's motif-sequence of an aristeia is derived from comparing a number of occurrences of the typical sequence of an aristeia in one epic, while Heissig's motif-sequence is gained by the comparison of a number of epics. What really corresponds to Heissig's 'typology of motifs' in Classical scholarship is the substance of the so-called, 'neo-analysis (Kakridis, Homeric Researches and Homer Revisited and others) as long as the relationship between e.g. events of the Iliad and those of the Aithiopis is not taken to be one of 'source' and 'imitation', but as two separate manifestations of the same traditional motif-sequence (cf. Nagy, The Best of the Achaeans 42). 4 5

7 8 9

Nagler, Spontaneity XXiii. Both Nagler, Spontaneity and Patzer, Dichterische Kunst use the term 'repertoire'. Schröter, Aristie 40 and 46 ff.

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a spear. But also more external phenomena, like the flashing of armour and so on, and indirect descriptions through similes. 4. Stepping forward of a great hero out of the mass of the fighters (πρόμαχος). Handling of the masses, often brief, and often through similes. 5. A series of successes described, including characterizations of opponents, and similes. 6. Counter-attack instigated by leader of opposite party, often urged on and/or helped by divinity. 7. Single combat with a great enemy: the duel is often shaped schematically; 10 gods may help on both sides; there is often a moment of danger, fear, weakness, or even the infliction of a wound, a temptation to flee; but these situations of near-failure are caught up into a recovery and so enhance what follows. 8. Victory, underlined by similes, followed by a speech of triumph (εύχος), by taking booty, and by ill-treating the dead enemy. Alternative to victory: the removal of the opponent by a divinity who may then be attacked by the hero. 11

In a simpler form, Krischer 12 sets out the scheme of the greater άριστεΐαι in the following manner, first very briefly: 0 1 2 3

arming, announcing the Αριστεία fights up to leading hero being wounded wound received, and recovery single combat, and epilogue

then in more detail: Oa Ob la lb 1c 2a 2b 3a 3b

putting on of arms radiance of arms single combats attack on the battle-lines pursuit of the army wound received recovery duel fight for the body

It seems most useful to refer both to Schroeter's and to Krischer's schemes, the former being fuller, and the latter bringing out the sequence of events more clearly. The stability of a major motif-sequence is strikingly exemplifid by A. T. Hatto from Kirghiz Epic of last century: 13 . . The "Memorial Feast for Kökötöy-khan"... exists in two parallel versions, one recorded by Valikhanov,... the other recorded only six years later by Radlov and

Cf. Η 206ff.; Schröter, 99. The first two items of Schröters list are here omitted, because they are preparatory rather than actually part of an aristeia. 1 2 Krischer, Formale Konventionen 23 f. " Hatto, 'Plot and Character' 103. 10 11

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miscalled "Bok-murun". Comparative analysis of the two versions, that is, of improvised performance by two different bards, reveals the fascinating fact that these bards improvised not only on the same major theme, but also on some eleven constituent elements of this theme, virtually in the same order, including the bracketing of the Funeral Games by the never-ending Horse-race.' 14 To return to the Iliad, let us consider the functioning of the άριστεία-motif-sequence in the aristeia of Agamemnon which leads up to and comprizes the turning-point in the second advance and retreat movement of the Achaeans (canto 3, Book Λ).15 Zeus instigates the battle by sending 'Strife' to the ships of the Achaeans (A 3 ff.). While Athena and Hera thunder in honour of Agamemnon (45 f.), Zeus drips dew mingled with blood onto the Achaean host (53ff.; Schroeter l). 16 Agamemnon's arming is described with great splendour (Schroeter 2, Krischer 0).17 After the marshalling of first the Achaean host, and then the Trojans (47 ff.), Hector's άριστεία is initiated. The flashing of his armour is compared to a star and to lightning (62 ff.; Schroeter 3, Krisch er Ob and p. 30). The beginning of battle is illustrated by a simile (67ff.; Schroeter 4). 18 At midday, the Achaeans break through the Trojan battle-line, and Agamemnon's άριστεία begins in earnest. Agamemnon kills three pairs of Trojans in single combats (Schroeter 4 and 5, Krischer la) 19 , and then leads his men in attacking and pursuing the Trojans towards the city (Schroeter 5, Krischer l b and lc). A counterattack is instigated by Hector who turns the fleeing Trojans but is prevented from himself opposing Agamemnon by the action and command of Zeus not to fight until Agamemnon is wounded (163f., 185ff.; Schroeter 6). By this prohibition, single combat of Agamemnon with a major enemy is prevented (Schroeter 7, Krischer 3a). Hector's own 'duel' will be with Achilles. Instead, Agamemnon is attacked by another pair of brothers (221 ff.). He kills them both, but is wounded himself (Schroeter 7, Krischer 2a) so severely that he cannot, like Diomedes (E 106 ff.) recover from his wound instantly and go on to greater exploits, but is forced to withdraw from battle (264 ff.). By the severity of Agamemnon's

14 For a full comparison cf. Hatto, The Memorial Fest, Appendix 2, 2 4 9 - 5 4 . Cf. O'Nolan, 'Homer and Irish Heroic Narrative' 3, also 8 and n. 2, and 9 speaks of 'fixed descriptions' in Irish heroic tales. Cf. Melia, 'Parallel Versions of T h e Boyhood Deeds of Chuchulainn"' 3 1 : '. . . Version A and Β are in origin independent multiform oral variants of a common story pattern' or 34 'Version Β is an alternate telling of Version A of the 'Boyhood Deeds".' 15 Cf. above 49. 16 On the apparently contradictory divine intentions cf. Schadewaldt, Iliasst. 41 f. 17 Cf. above 54 and below 101 f., 104 f. 18 Scott, Similes 37. 19 For detail of the single combats cf. below 78 ff.

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wound and by Hector being prevented from attacking Agamemnon, this άριστεία is not allowed to come to the climax of a great duel. Agamemnon is given honour, but only up to a certain measure, and the retreat of the Achaeans in this second advance and retreat movement is, in accord with the development of the plot, more severe than in the second canto. Clearly the άριστεία of Agamemnon runs on the habitual lines of a typical motif-sequence, while at the same time much is altered, as the poet sings this part of his tale keeping a close eye on the constellation of his heroes and on the overall proportions of events. In the course of his άριστεία, Agamemnon has a series of four fights with pairs of warriors. Such a combat is by its very nature a fairly set sequence of motifs (Schroeter 5, Krischer la). What is striking is the manner and amount of variation. The killing of these four pairs of warriors by Agamemnon proceeds according to a closely-knit plan.20 The first three pairs are shaped in such a way as to form a foil and contrast to the fourth pair. The first two men slain are a pair of friends, fighting together from a chariot. In two lines, the killing of both is baldly stated. In five lines, the death of the second man is described who had leapt off the chariot and faced Agamemnon who kills him by thrusting his spear through his helmet and skull into his brain. 21 In the concluding two lines, Agamemnon leaves them lying after taking their chitons. As they lie dead, their chests gleam in the beauty of their youth - a picture of pathos. 22 The second pair, Isus and Antiphus, described in six lines, are sons of Priam, which in itself increases the significance of this fight. Isus is illegitimate, and acts as charioteer to Antiphus. Both had been taken prisoner by Achilles earlier, and had been released for ransom. In another six lines, Agamemnon kills them, and takes their armour, recognizing them, since Achilles had brought them to the ships, as we have been told. Through this detail, Agamemnon is represented as personally involved with his victims, to some extent. The fight is capped by a simile of nine lines, likening Agamemnon to a lion crushing the young of a doe who is impotent to help them, just as the Trojans flee impotent to help. The third pair of victims, described in four lines, are sons of Antimachus who bribed by Paris strongly opposed the surrender of Helen to Menelaus. Agamemnon lays hands upon them as they both supplicate him from their chariot (five lines). Their speech (five lines) is an entreaty to spare their lives and receive ransom from their father Antimachus. Two lines form the transition to Agamemnon's reply, emphasizing the 20 21 22

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Here I follow closely Schadewaldt, Iliasst. 47, Strasburger, Kleine Kämpfer 69 ff., 97. For detail, especially of the formulae, cf. below 93 ff. Cf. Griffin, 'Homeric Pathos and Objectivity' 161 ff., Homer on Life 105 f.

contrast between their 'gentle' words and his 'ungentle' answer (137). Agamemnon retorts (five lines) that since Antimachus had proposed that Menelaus and Odysseus should be killed when they came as messengers to Troy, the sons must die for their father's outrage. Ironically, the mention of their father's name becomes the cause of death for the sons of Antimachus. Agamemnon kills (five lines) the one pushing him off the chariot, the other on the ground, 'cutting away his arms with sword-stroke, free of the shoulder, and sent him spinning like a log down the battle' (146 f., tr. Latt.).23 The extravagant cruelty of this action, structurally serves to mark the climax of these three fights of Agamemnon. 2 4 The psychological reason for the cruelty is revenge on the part of Agamemnon who, being the brother of Menelaus, is of course deeply involved personally. This third round is concentrically constructed, lines 136 and 137 forming the centre which is preceded and followed by five-line speeches of the sons of Antimachus and of Agamemnon, which in turn are preceded and followed by five-line descriptions of Agamemnon coming upon them as they entreat him, and of Agamemnon dealing with them. The exquisite structure serves to heighten further this third passage. 25 Agamemnon's killing of the fourth and final pair of warriors is, as we have said, shaped as a contrast to the three earlier pairs. The two sons of Antenor, Iphidamas and Coon both fight on foot, while the three other pairs are riding on their chariots. The latter also meet Agamemnon together, while Iphidamas is killed first, and the grief for his dead brother incites Coon to attack Agamemnon. The mode of fighting is therefore different. Moreover the sons of Priam and the sons of Antimachus are known to Agamemnon, the first from their earlier imprisonment, the latter through their own words. But Agamemnon does not know that the fourth pair of men he is killing are sons of Antenor. He might possibly have spared them. For, while Antimachus had opposed the surrender of Helen to Menelaus (123 ff.), Antenor had in the Trojan assembly (H 350 f.) advised the return of Helen to the Achaeans, since the breaking of the treaty after the duel of Menelaus and Paris doomed Troy to defeat. Again while Antimachus, according to Agamemnon's words (A 139 ff.) had proposed killing Odysseus and Menelaus when they came as messengers to Troy, Antenor had offered them hospitality in his own Griffin, Homer on Life 53 translates more precisely 'like a drum of stone'. Schadewaldt, Iliasst. 47. 2 5 Drerup, Poetik 441 'Das innere Gesetz dieser stets drei- oder zweiteiligen Gliederung ist gegeben durch das Prinzip eines künsterischen Gleichgewichts zwischen den sich entsprechenden Massen, das den Dichter völlig beherrscht.. . . Diese Symmetrien gehen soweit, dass das Gleichgewicht der korrespondierenden Glieder in vielen Fällen selbst in der übereinstimmenden Verszahl der symmetrischen Szenenteile, Aktteile, Akte und gar Hauptteile scharf in die Erscheinung t r i t t . . .' 23

24

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home, as he tells Helen himself (Γ 205 ff.). Agamemnon has killed the sons of a bitter enemy, knowing who they were. But in the last conflict, he kills the sons of a guestfriend of his own brother and a man who is practically an ally, not knowing who they were. The pathos of the blind destructiveness of war, suggested by the 'gleaming chests' of the first pair killed, by the second pair having been caught and ransomed before, by the third pair dooming themselves to death by their very appeal for mercy, reaches its climax in Agamemnon killing the sons of Antenor in ignorance. 26 The intensity of pathos is further heightened by Iphidamas dying without having enjoyed the company of his newly-wed, costly wife. The fourth encounter and with it the whole άριστεία of Agamemnon are rounded off by two solemm and sad lines: T h e r e Antenor's sons, at the hand of Atreus' son, the king, fulfilling their lot, went down into the house of Hades.' (Λ 262 f., my tr.)

The words are simple, but full of pathos, as Griffin has shown. 27 To sum up, the four episodes are varied and intensified: by differences of fighting on the chariot or on the ground, by increase in the intimacy of those slain (friends, brothers one being illegitimate, full brothers), and the pathos of their death, by the greater horror of the later victim's fate, and by the great personal involvement of Agamemnon with his victims, which in the slaying of the fourth pair is ironically eliminated by Agamemnon's ignorance. This series of single combats shows at least some of the ways in which the poet holds the interest of his audience within a repeated series. The άριστεία of Agamemnon is brief (283 lines) when compared with that of Diomedes which fills about two thirds of the over 900 lines of Book E. This extensive expansion is achieved by using the motif-sequence of an άριστεία twice over, by 'doubling' it. The two series of events are, in fact, a doublet28, a term which has been made familiar by Fenik in his work on the Odyssey. 29 The function of a doublet is, as we shall see, to expand and to intensify. The fighting of Diomedes in Book Ε is shaped in two sequences which run on similar lines. When we describe them as 'parallel' or 'symmetrical', this is legitimate, as long as we remain aware that we are spa-

Schadewaldt, Iliasst. 58, Strasburger, Kleine Kämpfer 71, also 97 f. Cf. above η. 23. On the death of two sons cf. Nagler, Spontaneity 100 and Fenik, Typical Battle Scenes 11. On expressions of 'feeling and sympathy' which could also be called pathos cf. Drerup, Poetik vol. I 445 n. 5: Δ 4 7 7 f . , Ε 153 ff.; Λ 2 4 2 f f . ; Ν 6 5 8 f . 28 F. Lillge, Komposition und epische Technik, passim see bibliography; Erbse, Betrachtungen über das 5. Buch 156, 163, 165 n. 14. 1 7 1 ; Schadewaldt, Iliasst. 127 on the principle of 'doubling'. 2 ' Fenik, Studies in the Odyssey Part II; Cf. also Typical Battle Scenes, see index s. v. Doublets. 26 27

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tializing what is temporal. We are looking at the two sequences, as if they were simultaneously in front of us, while the singer composes and performs one after the other, the second more or less as a repetition of the first, helped in the process by the scheme of the άριστεία, however much varied, which for him is a habitual procedure. We shall also see that the poet not only shapes the second round of the fighting keeping in mind and building on the first, but that in shaping the first round he already anticipates the second. At the beginning of Diomedes' άριστεία, Athena gives him fightingpower and daring, and lets flames blaze from his helmet and spear, and from his head and shoulders so that he is like a shining star. 30 Athena aids Diomedes further when she takes the surprisingly meek Ares by the hand, leads him out of the battle, and persuades him not to join the fighting. The fact that Ares here is expressly said not to be taking part in the battle is an anticipation of future events, in negative form, of the type discussed above: 31 he will play an important part in the second round. For then, Apollo sends Ares back into battle (454 ff.). Exploits of Diomedes and other Achaeans in the first round culminate in a simile in which Diomedes is compared with a river in spate (87 ff.). When in the second round, Diomedes draws back under the attack of Ares, he is like a man drawing back from a river in spate (597 ff.). Encountering Pandarus in the first round Diomedes is wounded by his arrow (98 ff.). His prayer to Athena is heard by the goddess who inspires him with the strength of his father Tydeus, but, noticeably, does not heal his wound. This motif of setback and recovery (Schroeter 7, Krischer 2a and 2b) is intensified in the second round. For, the setback is doubled: Diomedes withdraws from the combined attack of Ares and Hector (596 ff.) 32 , and stands exhausted by his chariot attending to his wound. Athena's arrival is preceded by a full scene of Hera and herself making ready for battle with armour and chariot (711-747), which is an intense elaboration of Athena's simple presence at the beginning of the first round. 33 Athena's encouragement in this second round has a sharp edge to it when she refuses to acknowledge that Diomedes is the true son of his father (800 ff.). In the first round, her encouragement was followed by the prohibition not to fight against any god except Aphrodite (129 ff.), here it is 30 Cf. Schröter 1 - 3 ; the flames rising from his arms and body are, according to Krischer 24, a 'substitute' for an arming-scene. The reason for using a 'substitute' here is probably that the poet will describe the arming of Athena later, and did not want a second such scene in this canto (cf. above 54 on the distribution of arming-scenes). Fenik, Battle Scenes 10 connects this 'fire' with the 'fire' of Achilles Σ 205 ff. For the simile at this point cf. Schröter 3, Scott, Similes 39. 31 Cf. above 6 9 ff. 32 This makes room for the duel of Tlepolemus and Sarpedon Ε 6 2 8 ff. 33 On arming-scenes cf. above 54.

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followed by the permission to fight Ares, a much more dangerous god. In the first round, Diomedes kills Pandarus, stuns Aeneas, and wounds Aphrodite, goddess of love, not of battle; in the second round, he wounds Ares, the god of war himself, with Athena's help. 34 The two rounds culminate in the two defeated divinities Aphrodite and Ares, each fleeing to Olympus (352 ff., 864 ff.) where Zeus receives Aphrodite with grace and kindness, Ares with disapproval, but not without help. The greater seriousness of the second round is emphasized by the contrast. The typical features of a closely worked-out doublet are full and clear in this victorious advance of Diomedes: the first sequence anticipates the second, and the second is a more exciting quasi-repetition on a grander scale. 35 A doublet can also be shaped not from a close series of traditional motifs on a smallish scale, but from the dynamic sequence of the major events and ideas in the epic. To this group belong the three advance and retreat movements of the Achaeans in cantos 2 to 4. There are others of

34 The triumph of Diomedes in wounding Ares is followed by the quieter 'victory' over Glaucus in the exchange of guest-gifts very uneven in value Ζ 119-236. 35 Another doublet of this kind is, for instance, the battle of Achilles with the Trojans and their allies in the river Scamander. It is constructed in two series of events which, following on each other, are built on parallel lines, each in four parts (Φ 34-228): 1. The emergence and descent of Achilles' opponent, and how Achilles knows him (34-63; 139-160) 2. Killing of the opponent (64-119; 161-181) 3. Disposal of body, and boast of Achilles (120-135; 182-204) 4. The River's anger (136-138; 205-227) The variation of the repeated motifs is considerable, the most striking scene being that of Lycaon supplicating Achilles, a scene which connects with the main theme of the poem (cf. below 138f.; Cf. Fenik, Typical Battle Scenes 56, 86; Marg, Kampf und Tod in der Ilias 175-177; cf. also Strasburger 85. 88, who refers to Marg and Scheibner Der Aufbau des 20. und 21. Buches 92-5). The increasing anger of the River prepares for the River's attack on Achilles. A bigger doublet is the central portion of canto 5 (Σ 2 4 3 - T 424) which is preceded by the rescue of the body of Patroclus, and followed by the renewal of battle by Achilles, with all the gods participating. The scheme of the central part which forms the transition from the rescue to Zeus inciting the gods to fight is the following: a. Trojan assembly Σ 243-314 b. Achaeans and Achilles mourning Patroclus 315-355 c. Zeus and Hera 356-368 d. Thetis and Hephaestus: Achilles' armour 369-617, Τ 1 - 3 9

al.Achaean assembly Τ 4 0 - 2 7 6 bl.Briseis and Achilles mourning Patroclus 277-339 cl.Zeus, Athena, Achilles 340-356 d2Arming of Achaeans and Achilles 357-424

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this type on a less comprehensive scale. The Embassy and the Doloneia together form such a doublet. 36 One and the same dangerous situation facing the Achaeans at the beginning of canto 3 (I iff.) produces two consequences: the Embassy to Achilles in Book I, and the Doloneia in Book K. The Embassy is an attempt to come to terms with the personal enemy of Agamemnon, an enemy in the Achaeans' own ranks, while the raid of Diomedes and Odysseus is an attack on the common external enemy, intended to make good at least to a small extent the disastrous retreat of the previous day. The first has only the slightest success: Achilles is at least not going home. The second is a success on a small scale, but big enough to form a transition to the splendid άριστεία of Agamemnon. 37 The fact that the Embassy and the Doloneia are a variation on the same subject is made explicit by the way in which the Doloneia is prepared for in the Embassy. The message which Achilles tells the ambassadors of Agamemnon to take back is this: 'Do you go back therefore to the great men of the Achaians, and take them this message, since such is the privilege of the princes: that they think out in their minds some other scheme that is better, which might rescue their ships, and the people of the Achaians who man the hollow ships, since this plan will not work for them which they thought of by reason of my anger.' (I 421-6, tr. Latt. cf. also 346 f.)

And this is the message from Achilles which Odysseus conveys to Agamemnon on his return: 'He tells you yourself to take counsel among the Argives how to save your ships, and the people of the Achaians' (I 680 f., tr. Latt.)

Agamemnon does, in fact, take counsel with the leading Achaeans in Book K. The situation of the Achaeans at the beginning of Book 9 is grim. The connecting phrase 'So the Trojans held their night watches' refers back to the innumerable watch-fires of the Trojan camp and to their confident hopes described at the end of Book Θ. The closeness of the enemy's camp-fires is also referred to by Nestor as a reason for the need of good counsel (I 76f.); and Odysseus speaks of it when he presents the desperate plight of the Achaeans to Achilles (232). At the beginning of Book K, the situation is not changed. Agamemnon sleepless with cares looks at the Trojan plain, he is amazed at the many fires burning before Troy and at the noise from flutes, pipes and people, the music being an expression of joyful confidence. 38

36 37 38

Cf. Appendix 3 'In defense of the Doloneia'. Cf. Appendix 3 164. Cf. Ameis-H. ad loc.

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In this situation, Agamemnon in I 9 ff. orders the heralds to call each man by name to the assembly, and not to shout, and himself works among the first. In Κ 73 he goes himself to Nestor. He has also told Menelaus to call Ajax and Idomeneus and others, naming them by their patronymic to honour them, and not to be haughty in his heart: 'But let it be you and I ourselves who do the work, seeing that Zeus cast on us as we were born this burden of evil' (70 f.). Here, the motif of Agamemnon's 'being at work himself is more fully worked out than in Book I and so is the motif of stealthy action during the dark of night. 39 As Agamemnon in Book I stands up in the assembly, he weeps like a spring pouring its dark water down a cliff, and he speaks 'groaning heavily' (16). In Κ 5 ff. the groaning of Agamemnon harassed and sleepless is extensively elaborated (5-16), and illustrated by a simile, as his weeping is in Book I. Just as frequent thunder of Zeus brings rainstorms, hail, or snow or again war, in short, disaster 40 , 'so thick-thronging in his breast groans burst forth from the depth of his heart, and his mind inside him trembled' (9f.). 41 Both much thunder from Zeus and much groaning of an army's leader bode evil for men. 4 2 The motif of the ominousness of Zeus' thunder is also used in Book I 236 f. when Odysseus speaks of it in his description of the plight of the Achaeans: 'And Zeus, son of Kronos, lightens upon their right hand, showing them portents of good' (tr. Latt.), which means defeat for the Achaeans. Agamemnon's groans are further elaborated when after gazing at the watch-fires and then at the ships and the people of the Achaeans 'he would tear much hair by the roots out of his head towards Zeus on high, and mightily he groaned in his glorious heart' ( K 15 f., my tr.)

Agamemnon tears his hair, like someone mourning the dead, and as he does so his tearing hands are lifted 'towards Zeus' in a gesture of prayer for help. The expression is strong and condensed, but fitting for the heightened emphasis which this second limb of the doublet of Books 9 and 10 requires. 43 3 9 Cf. Klingner, Dolonie 229 η. 1 recognizes that Book Κ is a doublet of Book I. But he judges Book Κ to be the work of a later poet who took his point of departure from the Iliadic Book I. I can find no cogent reasons for this judgement in his paper. 4 0 Scott, Similes 97. 4 1 M y transl. 4 2 H. Frankel, Gleichnisse 28 f. 4 3 The expression πολλάς έκ κεφαλής προθελύμνους έλκετο χαίτας Κ 15 corresponds closely to Priam tearing his grey hair out after his appeal to Hector not to fight with Achilles . . . πολιάς δ'αρ'άνά τρίχας 'έλκετο χερσι/τίλλων έκ κεφαλής. Χ 77f., cf. Ameis-H. where both άνά and τίλλων convey the same meaning as προθελύμνους. While 'tearing out one's hair' is an action expressive of grief for a death that has taken place ( X 406), the deaths of Hector and then of Priam foreseen and lamented by Priam

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The ways in which Nestor enters the narrative as supreme counsellor are parallel and contrasted in Books I and K. In Book I, he speaks on his own initiative after Agamemnon's proposal to flee has been cast aside by Diomedes, and in the council of the elders, he elaborately justifies his giving advice (I 97 ff.), while in Book Κ Agamemnon immediately decides to seek Nestor's counsel for the safety of the Achaeans (K 17 ff.). The situations are also different. In Book I, the setting is first the public assembly and then the elders' council in Agamemnon's cabin, both public occasions where Agamemnon acts fittingly within the proprieties of Homeric society. In Book K, Agamemnon alone comes to Nestor alone in the intimacy of night, 44 and pours out his heart's distress and fear on behalf of the Achaeans (93), with a vehemence the intensity of which has shocked the critics. But it is fully appropriate, because this man is in utter despair, and because an increase of intensity in comparison with Agamemnon's grief in Book I is here structurally required. 45 In Book I 75 ff. Nestor emphasizes in the assembly the need for a good plan or counsel, as Agamemnon does in Κ 43 f. to Menelaus who has come to him in the night. Agamemnon's reason for this 'need' is his belief that Zeus' mind has changed (45); otherwise Hector could not have achieved what he did (at the end of Book Θ). Here Agamemnon stresses Zeus' partiality for Hector, while in I 21 ff. the god's hostility to Agamemnon is emphasized. The two speeches complement each other. The ways in which the poet uses the figures of Diomedes and Odysseus in Books I and Κ are both contrasted and complementary. In Book I, Odysseus is the diplomatic leader of the Embassy, in secret collusion with Nestor (I 180) 46 , and it is he who conveys the result to Agamem(X 37-78) and the deaths of the Achaeans feared and lamented by Agamemnon (K 4-16) are an imminent menace. Priam had implored Hector to avert this disaster by not fighting with Achilles; Agamemnon's tearing out his hair 'in the direction of Zeus' (cf. Chantraine, Grammaire Homerique II, 1st ed. par. S6) implies a plea for salvation, surely not a 'profane' use of the gesture (Heusinger, 'Stilistische Untersuchungen' 46) 44 It is this intimacy which makes the uniquely full presentation of Agamemnon's emotions appropriate, while it would not be in the presence of Odysseus and Diomedes in Ξ 42 ff. and 65 ff., where Heusinger (55) expects it. 4 5 Stockinger, Vorzeichen 27 must have overlooked all this when he says: 'Im zehnten Gesang ist nichts mehr von der Verzweiflung des Agamemnon zu spüren.' But he is right in saying that the initiative to the nightraid comes from him. 4 6 The whole of Nestor's approach to Agamemnon in the council of elders is shrewd and cautious. His first speech begins with flattery and the admonition to give ear to good advice (I 93 ff.); it ends with the proposal to supplicate Achilles with gifts and winning words (112 f.). When Agamemnon promises gifts, but instead of winning words demands submission on Achilles' part, Nestor acknowledges the sufficiency of the gifts, but leaves it to be understood that the 'words' are missing. He dare not say so. Unless the ambassadors find some way out, failure is certain even at this stage. When the ambassadors set out,

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non. Diomedes, on the other hand, proposes battle both in the assembly before the Embassy and in Agamemnon's cabin after it. In Book K, that is, in a military excursion, Diomedes is the leader of the expedition, and Odysseus his chosen companion. Odysseus does all the negotiating with Dolon (382 ff.); it is Diomedes who kills him, and who kills the Thracians while Odysseus removes the Thracian horses. As in Book I, so in Book Κ Odysseus reports after their return, this time to Nestor. The two heroes are represented as acting differently in the different situations, but in each case true to character. 47 In both books, the plan for the main action is proposed by Nestor: the Embassy in I 112 f., 165 ff., the expedition with the purpose of killing some enemies and spying on the intentions of the Trojans in Κ 206 ff., in that order, 48 both being an 'advance' upon an enemy. Finally, after the Embassy and after the expedition to the Trojan camp, Odysseus is welcomed back, in Book I by Agamemnon, in Book Κ by Nestor. Both address Odysseus with the same words: 'Come, tell me, honoured Odysseus, great glory of the Achaeans' (I 673 = Κ 544). The poet marks by this line, which as a whole appears nowhere else, the parallelism between Books I and K. 4 9 A smaller motif-sequence than the αριστεία, but repeated consecutively five times pivots on a 'call for help'. It is used by the poet to shape the rescue of Patroclus' body, and is, as we shall see, closely related to the major events of the Iliad. '. . . Nestor gave them much instruction, looking eagerly at each, and most of all at Odysseus, to try hard, so that they might win over the blameless Peleion.' (I 179 ff., tr. Latt.) The 'instructions' would be heard by all, including Agamemnon and therefore could not refer to Agamemnon's blunder. But the 'looks' could plead for presence of mind and when they are directed 'most of all' to Odysseus, he may be expected to speak first in order to emend Agamemnon's demand for submission into words of supplication. The sequel shows that Odysseus has understood Nestor, while Ajax has not. - For the 'duals', cf. Thornton, 'Once again, the Duals of Book 9'; differently in reply A. Köhnken, 'Noch einmal Phoinix und die Duale'. I am indebted to Köhnken for a better understanding of my own suggestions. 47 Cf. Scholia, Heusinger, 'Stilistische Untersuchungen' 84; Fenik, Rhesus 12 f. 4 8 Klingner, Dolonie 350 overlooks the fact that Nestor, in his original twin proposals, mentions first killing some enemy stationed on the fringe of the hostile damp, and secondly finding out something about the intentions of the Trojans. 4 9 An even less formal case of a 'doublet' is the connection between Hektor's visit to Troy and parting with Andromache, on the one hand, and his duel with Ajax, on the other. That they form a pair is made explicit by the poet by introducing both episodes by an admonition of Helenus to Hector (Z 73 ff. and Η 44 ff.). The second time, his admonition is preceded by a conversation between Athena and Apollo (H 17ff.) which he overhears, and the intent of which he conveys to Hector. This connection is rather external, and therefore all the more clearly intentional. It points to the common function of the two episodes. Both foreshadow Hector's death: a poignant counterpoint to his three victorious advances which follow.

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So far as locality is concerned, the sequence begins under the walls of Troy where Patroclus was killed, and ends in the Achaean camp where Achilles weeps over his dead friend. The ground-structure of the first three and the fifth movements is the 'rebuke pattern' analyzed by Fenik.50 The 'call for help' ought however to be emphasized more strongly than Fenik does. The first sequence (P 1-131) is the simplest, and clearly shows the basic sequence of actions, the 'repertoire' of this motif-sequence, (a) Menelaus makes a stand in defence of the body of Patroclus, being compared to a young cow protecting her calf. He is attacked by Euphorbus who had been one of the three killers of Patroclus (Apollo, Euphorbus and Hector), and now wants to take the body and the armour into Troy. Menelaus kills him. (b) The action is turned by Apollo 'rebuking' Hector for pursuing Achilles' horses in vain (cf. Π 864 ff.) while Euphorbus has been killed by Menelaus. (c) Hector gathers the Trojans for an attack with a war-cry, (d) and Menelaus having considered the danger of his situation in a monologue withdraws when Hector attacks, (e) Menelaus espies Ajax and calls for his help, (f) Ajax and Menelaus advance, and Hector who has in the meantime stripped the armour off Patroclus leaves the body and withdraws. The sequence of motifs in this action is the following: (a) (b) (c) (d) (e) (f)

successful Greek fight for Patroclus. Trojan hero rebuked. Trojan attack. Greek withdrawal. Greek call for help. Greek attack.

The function of the 'rebuke' here and elsewhere is to shame the man rebuked into effective action so that his attack forces his opponents to withdraw and to call for help. Three events of significance have taken place in this first movement: Euphorbus is dead which means partial revenge for Patroclus' death; Hector's pursuit of the horses of Achilles has been mentioned; Hector has stripped Achilles' armour from Patroclus' body. The second sequence (P 132-287) begins (a) with Ajax protecting the body of Patroclus with his great shield, like a lion with cubs, (b) Glaucus, the Lycian and cousin of dead Sarpedon, rebukes Hector for not seizing the body of Patroclus which could be used in bargaining for an exchange with Sarpedon's body, and Hector replies ready to fight, (cl) Hector calls on the Trojans and Lycians briefly, then goes from the battle-field in order to change into Achilles' armour. Zeus disapproves, but will give Hector victory because his death is close. Hector, now in 50

Fenik, Battle Scenes 49 f.

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Achilles' armour, admonishes the ranks of his allies. They move forward to attack Ajax, (e) Ajax afraid tells Menelaus to call for help. Menelaus calls, and Ajax, son of Oileus, Idomeneus, Meriones together with others come. In the fifth sequence, Menelaus and Meriones will carry the body of Patroclus, defended by the two Ajaxes. (c2) The Trojans attack (262). (d) The Greeks stand round the body. Zeus spreads darkness, and they fall back from the body, (f) Then Ajax scatters the Trojan battle-line. While the basic elements are the same, several of them are fuller, (a) is very brief, although the simile comparing Ajax with a lion standing over his cubs recalls Menelaus as the cow defending her calf, and so marks the beginning of a new parallel series of events. Ajax is not alone, Menelaus stands on the other side of the body: the two will work together from now on. The 'rebuke' (b) is 27 lines long, and is issued by a man, over against Apollo's 7 lines. The two portions of the Trojan attack (cl and c2) frame the Greek call for help (e). These two portions contain two speeches of admonition, Hector's arming and Zeus' mind, the second portion being enhanced by a simile (263 ff.). Zeus' intention to give victory to Hector (206) foretells the course of events. The call for help (e) is no longer a monologue and a shout but a request from Ajax to Menelaus, and a shouted speech by Menelaus; while Menelaus in the first movement deliberates about the danger of his situation, Ajax is immediately certain of mortal danger: the situation is tenser than before. The two motif-elements of the Greeks standing with one mind round the body protected by their shields and of Zeus sending darkness prepares for what happens in the third motif-sequence. The fact that Hector puts on Achilles' armour recalls his seizing the armour in the first movement, and prepares for the fifth movement where Achilles has to wait for new armour forged by Hephaestus. The simile of Ajax attacking like a boar (282 ff.) together with the lion simile at the beginning enhance Ajax' stature here, as the three similes of the first movement enhanced Menelaus. The third sequence (P 288-425) begins (a) with Ajax killing a Trojan by shattering his helmet and skull with his spear. 51 Other fights are emphasized by gruesome horror. The Trojans withdraw, and would have fled into their city beaten by the Achaeans against the will of Zeus (321) but for Apollo rebuking (bl) Aeneas (319 ff.). 52 Aeneas communicates the god's rebuke to Hector (b2) and himself turns the Trojans so that they stand their ground: he now stays beside Hector (c). After some inconclusive fighting Ajax commands the Greeks to form a closed wall round Patroclus' body with their shields, and forbids them either to 51 52

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For detailed discussion cf. below 93 ff. 'almost'-formula, cf. Ρ 70f.; cf. chap. 3 n. 52.

withdraw from the body or to fight in front of the battle-line. Here, 'withdrawal' and 'attack' of the Greeks (d and f) are explicitly suppressed: the battle is now stationary; and its centre around the body is covered in darkness. 53 The Greek 'call for help' is indirectly introduced by the statement that Thrasymachus and Antilochus have not yet heard of Patroclus' death (377, el). 54 The bitter stationary battle around the body is a tug-of-war likened to a hide being pulled in all directions for the purpose of tanning it. Once again the motif of the Greek 'call for help' is sounded {el): Achilles did not yet know of his friend's death (401 ff.). And for the third time the grim battle is described, a fight now to the death. In this third sequence, the fighting moves between extremes. In consequence of Ajax' two violent attacks, the Trojans almost have to flee into the city. But when they are turned by Aeneas so as to stand their ground, the battle becomes stationary, the Achaeans being commanded by Ajax. The fourth sequence (P 426-542) is concerned with the horses of Achilles and their charioteer Automedon. 55 The divine horses who, rigid with grief like a grave monument, weep and will not move are given courage by Zeus who pities their lot, and the horses forthwith carry Automedon into battle. A friend, Alcimedon 'rebukes' him (b) for fighting in the frontline alone, without a charioteer, and joins him on the chariot. At the sight of Achilles' horses, Hector together with Aeneas and others advance on Automedon (c). Automedon afraid 'calls for help' to the two Ajax and Menelaus (e). He does not withdraw, but kills a Trojan, avoiding Hector's spear. The two Aiaxes intervene (531 ff.), the Trojans withdraw, and Automedon is left triumphant (f). This sequence runs on the lines of the above pattern only in part. The motif of Achilles' charioteer and his horses is fully treated. What is new in this context is the intervention of Zeus and the motif of the 'rebuke' on the Greek side instead of the Trojan, which prepares for Zeus' action through Athena at the beginning of the fifth sequence. The fifth is the culminating and most extensive sequence (P 543 - Σ 238). Once again the battle is on for Patroclus' body (P 543). An immi-

53

Both the motifs of the 'standing' battle and of the 'darkness' have been briefly introduced in the second movement Ρ 269; for an interpretation of the 'darkness' see Kakridis, Homer Revisited, T h e Motif of the Godsent Mist in the Iliad' 89 ff., esp. 97 f. The reason for this 'darkness' is not as Andersson, Early Epic Scenery 20, suggests that Achilles must not himself see how Patroclus is killed. Patroclus dies under the walls of Troy, too far away to be seen from the ships camp; also, even after Zeus has lifted the 'darkness' (P 648 ff.), Antilochus is sent to tell Achilles of Patroclus' death. 54 Cf. above 70. 55 This motif had been foreshadowed in the first movement, Ρ 75 ff.

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nent turn in events is indicated by the 'turn in Zeus' mind' (546). 56 He sends Athena down onto the battlefield to urge on the Greeks. She 'rebukes' (bl) Menelaus, and gives him the courage and persistence of a mosquito (570ff.), as Zeus encouraged the horses of Achilles (456), and he forthwith kills Podes, and drags the body of Patroclus onto his own side. Correspondingly, Apollo 'rebukes' (b2) Hector mentioning the death of his friend Podes, and Hector moves into the frontline. The second 'rebuke'-motif and Zeus' lightning, thunder and shaken αίγίς indicate 'victory to the Trojans and flight to the Achaeans' (c) (596). The flight of the Greeks (d) is begun by Peneleus, and after lighter skirmishes confirmed by Hector killing Coiranus, charioteer of Meriones. After this, Idomeneus flees to the ships. Ajax and Menelaus realize the danger of their situation, and Ajax wishes for a messenger to send to Achilles with the news of Patroclus' death. This is the beginning of calling for Achilles' help in the rescue of Patroclus' body (el), prepared for in the third sequence (401 ff.). He also prays to Zeus to lift the darkness enveloping the central portion so that he may be able to see such a messenger. This darkness had been introduced in the second sequence and described in the third. When Zeus hears the prayer of Ajax and scatters the darkness so that the whole battlefield lies visible in bright sunlight, the new line of action which will lead to the rescue of Patroclus' body and eventual victory for the Achaeans begins: Ajax tells Menelaus to look for Antilochus as a messenger to go to Achilles (e2). This also has been prepared for in the third movement (377 ff.). Reluctantly leaving the body of Patroclus Menelaus sees Antilochus fighting on the left flank of the battle (682, cf. 382), and gives him the news of Patroclus' death: he asks him to run to the ships and tell Achilles 'if he might quickly rescue the body to the ship, naked', since Hector has taken the armour (692 f.). This is the initiation of a 'call for help' to Achilles (e3), and the movement in that direction begins when Antilochus leaves (703 f.). Menelaus returns to the battle for the body, not hoping for immediate help from Achilles since he has no armour. Thrown upon their own resources, the Achaeans at Ajax' command organize their retreat with the body. The disastrous withdrawal in which the body of Patroclus remains however in the hands of the Achaeans takes place eventually in the neighbourhood of the ditch, 'and there was no cessation of the fighting' (761). Antilochus comes to Achilles with the news that Patroclus is dead and the battle is on for his naked body since Hector has his armour (Σ 18 ff.). A plea for help is left implicit (e4). It is Achilles himself who must realize the desperate need for help, and he does: a

5 6 This 'turn in Zeus' mind' foreshadows the change from his prohibition of the gods' participation in battle in Book Θ to his command to them to participate in Book Y , Scheibner, Der Auflau des 20. und 21. Buches 22.

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scene each is given to Achilles' grief, to Thetis' grief when she hears his groans, and to the meeting between mother and son in the course of which Achilles abrogates his anger and decides to return to the fight when Thetis has brought new armour. Achilles will respond to the need for help, though not immediately. The way in which the news of the desperate situation and the urgent plea for immediate practical help is divided up between Antilochus and Iris makes room for these most important and beautiful scenes. 57 The bidding of Iris comes when the battle for Patroclus has reached the ships and the Hellespont (Σ 148 ff.). Three times Hector has seized the body and three times the two Ajaxes have driven him off, but they cannot scare Hector away. 'Almost' he seizes the body (165), when Iris sent by Hera bids Achilles come to the aid of Patroclus (171, e5). Since he cannot fight without armour, she urges him to frighten away the Trojans by his mere appearance. The 'call for help' is, finally, expressed in the two similes accompanying the appearance and the shout of Achilles at the ditch. Athena has placed the αΐγίς round his shoulders: 'and she, the divine among goddesses, about his head circled a golden cloud, and kindled from it a flame far-shining. As when a flare goes up into the high air from a city from an island far away, with enemies fighting about it, who all day long are in the hateful division of Ares fighting from their own city, but as the sun goes down signal fires blaze out one after another, so that the glare goes pulsing high for men of the neighbouring islands to see it, in case they might come over in ships (to protect them from harm); so from the head of Achilleus the blaze shot into the bright air.' (Σ 205 ff., tr. Latt., except the bracket, my tr.)

The simile draws together into one vivid image all that has happened since the death of Patroclus. 58 The battle of the Achaeans for his body has already been compared with a fierce fire rushing over a city and suddenly blazing up (P 737 ff.). 59 Now it is caught in the image of smoke rising from a beleaguered island city. The 'all-day fighting' presses home the long-drawn-out battle for the body (Book P). The enemy attacking 'from their own city' evokes the Trojans and their own city of Troy. Night falls on the island city as it is approaching in the narrative (Σ 239 ff.). Torch-flares leap up signalling the need for help, just Not seen clearly by Schadewaldt, 'Homerische Szenen' 243. Η. Frankel, Gleichnisse 99 about the 'purpose' of the similes: 'Es {seil, das Gleichnis) kann Unübersichtliches zeitlich zusammenziehen und rückblickend, vordeutend, oder beides vereinend, eine weite Strecke der Handlung in ein einziges, höchst eindringliches Bild fassen', cf. p. 175 f. on Δ 4 2 2 and p. 72 on Π 259. - I do not think that this simile has anything to do with the Fall of Troy, as is assumed by Whitman, Heroic Tradition 137. 57

58

59

H. Frankel, Gleichnisse 52.

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as Antilochus and Iris have come to Achilles for help. Achilles deprived of his armour can not yet fight for them, as he has said to Iris (Σ 188 ff.). But the blaze rising from the gold cloud round his head is like their torches: both express undaunted valour in the midst of peril, and the fire of Achilles now reinforces the signals for help: he will respond to the call and save the body of Patroclus. Achilles steps forward to the ditch and shouts, and his voice is 'loud and clear' like the trumpet-call in a city surrounded by enemies bent on killing (219 f.). The shout and the fire throw the Trojans into confusion, and the Achaeans joyfully carry the body of Patroclus out of the fighting. It is Achilles himself who had grieved that he failed to be a 'protector from disaster' (Σ lOO)60 for his friend and who now rescues his body. The two similes which are variations of one and the same motif 61 form the climax and end of the fivefold sequence of 'calls for help'. To sum up, within its five-fold repetition, this motif-sequence is used to unfold the movement of the armies from beneath the walls of Troy to the ditch of the Achaean camp. In the first two sequences, the ebb and flow of battle is even. In the third, it becomes stationary. In the fourth, the divine horses of Peleus are saved for Achilles. In the fifth, a slow tough retreat with the body is successfully brought to a close by Achilles' shout and appearance. The multiplication of such a sequence is clearly an excellent technique for oral singing on a large scale, and at the same time an exciting escalation of events for an audience to follow. Furthermore, we have seen that a 'call for help' from the Achaeans to Achilles is one of the major themes in the construction of the Iliad as a whole. 62 Those calling for help were the Embassy on behalf of the Achaeans in canto 3, Patroclus again on behalf of the Achaeans in canto 4, and Iris on behalf of Patroclus in canto 5. It is this third and final call in the Iliad which is also the last of our five motif-sequences. The four preceding sequences are then preparing for and leading up to the last 'call for help' of all which brings about the return of Achilles to the battlefield. As in the rescue of Aeneas by Aphrodite in Book 563, so here the poet invisaging an important goal in the course of his story shapes his approaches to it by using the very substance of that event.

60 61 62 63

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Σ 100 compared by Ameis-H. with 213. H. Frankel, Gleichnisse 50. Cf. above 52. Cf. above 68 f.

Chapter 6 Motif-elements and 'formulae' Having explored the most characteristic ways in which the poet uses traditional, set motif-sequences in the unfolding of his story, we shall now turn to the so-called 'formulae'. I am using the term in its simplest sense of 'repeated word-groups', allowing for simple inflection, 1 but by-passing all the refinements and complications of recent research in order to gain some fundamental clarity. The scholarly tradition of today of treating the 'formula' first and in the second place the motif-sequence or 'theme', as e. g. Lord does in The Singer of Tales, is due to the prior 'discovery' of the formula, and is very misleading as regards the real relationship of the two phenomena. The oral epic poet proceeds from a plan of the whole of his poem, and is ever pointing to 'goals' towards which his narrative moves. In view of this procedure, it is not plausible to assume, as Hainsworth does, that 'In the construction of a sentence the formula acts, as it were, as a pivot around which the ideas and words that it calls to mind group themselves.' 2 For, this assumption implies that the greater unit of the sentence arises, by association of some sort, out of the smaller unit of the formula. The logical extension of this process leads to the assumption of a goal-less parataxis, such as Hainsworth himself rejects for the plots of the Homeric epics, but wrongly accepts for 'broad expanses of paratactic narrative'.3 Let us take a passage of six lines from the άριστεία of Agamemnon (A 95-100), namely the description of Agamemnon slaying one of his opponents by breaking through his helmet and skull into his brain. 'But Agamemnon stabbed straight at his face as he came on in fury with the sharp spear, nor did helm's bronze-heavy edge hold it, but the spearhead passed through this and the bone, and the inward brain was all spattered forth. So he beat him down in his fury, and Agamemnon the lord of men left them lying there and their white (chests gleaming) since he had stripped off their tunics.' (A 9 5 - 1 0 0 , tr. Latt., except the bracket, my tr.) 4 1 Cf. The 'verbatim or "straight" formula, the exact repeat, with allowance for simple inflection', Russo's No. 1 in 'Homer's Formulaic Style' 3 6 ; for 'inflection' cf. Hainsworth, Flexibility of the Homeric Formula 36 f. 2 Hainsworth, 'Homer' Greece and Rome 25. 3 Cf. above chapter 3 n. 6.

4 Τόν δ' ΐθύς μεμαώτα μετώπιον όξέϊ δουρί / νύξ', ούδέ στεφάνη δόρυ οι σχέθε χαλκοβάρεια, / άλλά δι' αύτης ήλθε και όστέου, έγκέφαλος δέ / ένδον άπας πεπά-

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The same motif of a warrior killing his enemy in this way occurs four times in the Iliad (A 95 ff.; Μ 183 ff.; Ρ 293 ff.; Υ 397ff.). The following are the 'motif-elements' which may (or may not) be found in such a description. They are the 'repertoire' of this motif, to use Nagler's term again.5 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

thrust or stab with spear location of wound breaking of helmet and skull destruction of brain death of the man struck pathos of death

The sequence of these motif-elements has been abstracted from the four occurrences of the motif by the same method by which the motifsequence of the άριστεία and of the 'call for help' were abstracted above. The attacking warrior in A 95 is Agamemnon, in Μ 183 Polypoetes, in Y 395 Achilles, and in Ρ 293 Ajax, an Achaean in every case. The lengths of the passages from striking with a spear to the end of that particular episode are 6 lines for Agamemnon, 4 for Polyposes and Achilles, and 10 for Ajax. Let us compare the motif-elements of the first three passages: 6 1. The attack with the spear is described differently each time. Agamemnon 'stabbed . . . with the sharp spear' (A 95 f.). Polypoetes 'struck Damasus with a spear' (M 183), and Achilles simply 'stabbed' his opponent (Y 397). 2. Agamemnon strikes his enemy's 'forehead' (A 95). Achilles stabs him 'in the temple' (Y 397). In the case of Polypoetes, the location of the wound is not mentioned, but is implied in the phrase which follows: 3. 'through the bronze-sided helmet' which means 'in the temple'. The identical words are used for the attacks of Achilles and also of Ajax (Y 397 and Ρ 294, in both of which Lattimore varies his translation). Here we have then the first 'formula', that is, a repeated word-group which implies both phonological-metrical and semantic identity. The formula is not used in the case of Agamemnon, because the bronze sides of a helmet would be irrelevant to a wound in the forehead. In the cases of Polypoetes and Achilles, the formula is followed by two almost identical lines. In the former passage, the lines run as follows: 'and the brazen helmet could not hold, but the bronze spearhead driven on through (διαπρό) smashed the bone apart' (M 184 f., tr. Latt.)7 λακτο· δάμασσε δέ μιν μεμαώτα. / και τούς μέν λίπεν αύθι άναξ άνδρών 'Αγαμέμνων / στήθεσι παμφαίνοντας, έπει περίδυσε χιτώνας. 5 Cf. above 75. 6 The reason for my dealing with the Ajax-passage last will appear presently. 7 'Driven' is not in the Greek text. 94

Lattimore translates the corresponding line f r o m Achilles' attack (Y 398 f.) in identical words. But the Greek lines are not wholly identical. In Y 398 we find instead of 'the bronze spearhead on through' 'the spearhead in its eager onrush through i f , that is, through the helmet. 8 There seems to be no specific reason for these variations. In the A g a m e m n o n passage, the corresponding words are the following: 'nor did helm's bronze-heavy edge hold it, but the spearhead passed through this and the bone' (A 96 f., tr. Latt.)

O n l y the contrast between a negative and a positive statement, and the Greek words for 'hold' and 'bone' are the same as in the two above passages. In consequence of the differently located w o u n d , namely in the forehead instead of in the temple, the description of 'breaking through' is different. The motif-elements are the same, b u t they vary in detail. 4. The destruction of the brain is described in completely identical words. It is formulaic: ' . . . and the inward brain was all spattered forth' (A 97 f. = Μ 185 f. = Υ 399f., tr. Latt.)

5. The death of the warrior struck is also described in a formula in all three passages: ' . . . so he beat him down in his fury.'

6. But while in Books Μ and Y the episode ends here, in the Agamemnon-passage it concludes with two further lines about this man and his friend previously slain by A g a m e m n o n : and Agamemnon the lord of men left them lying there and their white (chests gleaming), since he had stripped off their tunic's (A 99 f., tr. Latt., except for bracket, my tr.)

The point of these lines is, as we have seen, the pathos of the deaths of the two men. 9 The A g a m e m n o n passage r u n s then on the same sequence of motif-elements as the attacks of Polypoetes and Achilles. But the poet adds another element, and varies the place of the w o u n d , which leads to a less formulaic expression. The attack and slaying by Ajax r u n s on the same pattern, but is very different. 1. Ajax 'struck' his opponent Hippothous 'at close quarters' (P 294).10 The verb for the action of 'striking' is different f r o m any of the other

8

Ιεμένη (cf. Cunliffe s.v. ΐίημι2) comprizes both 'eagerness, i.e. emotion and conation, and 'rushing movement', i.e. action; cf. also Ameis-H. on Ο 543; Y 279; Φ 70. ιεμένη is also a variant reading of some MSS. in Μ 185. 9 Cf. above 78 and n. 23. 10 Πληξ' αύτοσχεδίην.

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passages. Its force is increased by 'at close quarters', and by Ajax 'leaping upon him through the crowd of warriors' in the previous line. The sentence 'leaping upon him through the crowd of warriors he struck at close quarters' is formulaic, because it also occurs in Μ 191. 11 The urgency of Ajax' action is caused by Hippothous trying to drag the body of Patroclus to the Trojan side. 2. and 3. The blow penetrates 'through the bronze-sided helmet', the only formula which this passage shares with the attacks of Polypoetes and Achilles. The phrase implies the wound being in the temple, as in Μ 183. The vehemence of the blow is elaborated and intensified by the next two lines 'and the helm crested with horse-hair was riven about the spearhead to the impact of the huge spear and the weight of the hand behind it' (P 295 f., tr. Latt.)

The last phrase 'the weight of the hand' 12 is a formula occurring frequently (12 times) in other parts of the epic. But the two lines as a whole are unique. 4. The destruction of the brain follows: 'and the brain ran from the wound along the spear by the eye-hole bleeding' (P 2 9 7 f . ; tr. Latt.)

Instead of 'by the eye-hole', the phrase παρ'αύλόν may mean 'up through the crestholder' 13 which would imply the breaking of the skull. 5. Finally, the manner of the man's falling down in death is described in almost three lines, 6. and in another three lines the pity of his dying is described, far from home, far from his parents, and still a young man, 'beaten down beneath the spear of high-hearted Ajax' (Ρ 303). Here the verb 'beaten down' 14 is the same as in the one line describing the man's death in the other three passages. The three 'sub-elements' of his death are again typical elements. 15 To sum up, the ordering pattern in our four passages is the motif with its elements. The sequence of the elements is, in this case, determined by the actual event which is described. Within the sequence, the poet may use formulae or not as he pleases, formulae being, then, motif-elements or sub-elements in the form of repeated word-groups. A sub-element whether formulaic or not may be part and parcel of the meaning of the specific context, like ΐεμένη, or again it may contribute to the con-

11 12 13 14 15

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Cf. below n. 23. Χειρί παχείη. Cf. Stubbings, 'Arms and Armour' 515. Δαμέντι. Cf. Griffin, Homer on Life 108.

text by imparting to it through its 'generic' nature 16 a more general quality which belongs to the epic as a whole, as χαλκείη does which serves the poet's intention of setting his tale in the archaic Age of Bronze.17 There seems to be no reason for the particular choice in each case. When one of the motif-elements is varied, like the location of the wound, formulaic expression may be reduced. The most striking result of our comparison is, however, the emergence of the very different representation of the same event in the Ajax passage. Only one formulaic phrase is shared with two of the other passages, and one, shorter one is shared with many other contexts.18 The motif-elements, on the other hand, run in the same sequence as in the other three passages, the last element, that of 'pathos' being shared with the Agamemnon passage only.19 While some of the elements are implied (location of the wound, as also in Y 397, and breaking of the skull), other elements are strikingly intensified by elaboration, as the vehemence of the strike with the spear, the gruesome dispersal of the brain, the fall of the dying man, and the pathos of his death, the sub-elements of which are again part of the traditional motif-element 'pathos of death'. It appears from our comparison of these four passages that the basic and primary traditional mould with which the poet works is the sequence of motifs or motif-elements, not the formulae. 20 His choice of a particular motif-sequence depends on his plot, on the goal towards which he is moving in the particular part of his song or over a wide stretch or over the whole poem. Guided by this sequence, the poet freely uses formulae or not, according to his specific purposes. He does not appear to feel at all compelled to use them by the complexity of singing in hexameters. This is not surprising, since, as K. O'Nolan has shown 21 , motif-sequences and formulae function in much the same way in the prose of Irish heroic tales as they do in the hexameters of the Homeric epics. It is the repetitiveness of motif-sequences and particularly their elements which leads to their settling into stereotyped form,

16

Cf. Nagler, Spontaneity 39. H. Frankel, Dichtung 38; and more generally on 'generic' epithets 37. 18 There seems to be no reason for the particular choice in each case. Cf. Lord, Singer 69 and n. 2; Fenik, Battle Scenes 45, 229. 19 Cf. Nagler, Spontaneity 91. 20 Cf. Lord, n. 18 above. Segal 'The Theme of the Mutilation of the Corpse' 5. 21 O'Nolan, 'Homer and Irish Heroic Narrative' 1 ff., esp. 3 n. 2 where he turns against Lord's (Singer 31) stress on 'metrics and music', and states that 'metre has no essential connections with formulas, which I take to be identical sequences of words'. Cf. 14 'The fact seems to be that epithet formulae are a feature of heroic story-telling, not simply of epic hexameter.' cf. 17. 17

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that is, into formulae. 22 This process is bound to be going on throughout the history of an oral tradition of story-telling. The formulae which have been formed in this way are part and parcel of the poetic language which the poet has learned in becoming a poet, and would be readily at his disposal on any occasion. 23 Can we then see any reason for formulae sometimes being used and sometimes not? What is the reason for the greater intensity and length 24 of the largely non-formulaic description of Ajax' exploit? It cannot be due primarily to the hero's rank and importance in the epic, because, as the poet says himself (B 768) Ajax is second to Achilles whose corresponding exploit is only four lines long and not conspicuous. The position of these exploits within the narrative structures in which they occur is a different matter. There is little difference, as we have seen, between the exploits of Polypoetes and Achilles. The horror of breaking the skull and spattering the brain of an enemy enhances in itself the slayer's fame, and that is the function of such a description. Polypoetes is a minor hero, mentioned in the Catalogue of Ships (B 740), in a catalogue of Achaeans attacking (Z 29), and as winner in the contest of throwing a lump of iron (Ψ 836 ff.). His only detailed battle action is described in our passage. It is fully prepared for. Polypoetes fights together with Leonteus, both heroes being Lapiths. In their steadfastness, they are compared to oaks (M 132 ff.), in the force of their attack to wild boars (146 ff.). When the poet describes the detailed fighting of the two Lapiths (181), he begins with the exploit of Polypoetes, our

2 2 Discussing the relationship between 'theme' and 'formula' Hainsworth ('Homer' 22) sets the views of Parry and Lord over against each other in the following way: 'As it stands, this theory of improvisation (of Parry) is diametrically opposed to Lord's: the one sees the formula as an indispensable basis, the other as an almost accidental result of repetitive subject-matter.' Hainsworth goes on to ask: 'How can we decide between them?' It seems to me that the decision for Lord's view which is backed by Bartlett's psychological experiments becomes necessary when the relation between 'themes' or 'motifs' and formulae is considered, not theoretically, but on the evidence of the interpretation of related contexts. 23 Cf. Brandon, Thrones and Gold 34. 'As in oral literature everywhere in the world, there were (scil. in Javanese shadow-plays) stock expressions and formula phrases which, once learned, were used again and again. The extent of formula phrases in wayang kulit has not been examined in detail, but it appears to be very considerable indeed. Descriptions of characters and of kingdoms are replete with standard expressions, and the long opening section of the first djanturan is repeated by a dalang almost verbatim . . . There are set patterns of greeting in audience scenes and fixed forms of insult which a warrior hurls at his opponent prior to combat.' . . .76 'Formula phrases and even what must be called, for lack of a better term, formula paragraphs occur in all the plays.' Cf. also 2 1 - 2 7 , and for the freedom of the dalang to innovate 80. 24 Nagler, Spontaneity 84 for the idea of 'appropriate length'.

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passage, which is rounded off by one line in which the killing of two opponents is mentioned. The exploit of Leonteus follows who kills two men with his spear, separately, and then three men in a row. While the detail of our passage in the first exploit is fuller, the number of the slain rises from 1 to 2, told in some detail, and from 2 to 3 in a catalogue. The speed and efficiency of slaying is felt to increase. This double contest of the Lapiths is, however, only the first part of the battle for the Wall, which will culminate in its being breached by Hector. 25 Our formulaic passage is here then of moderate weight, and belongs to the early part of the second and severe setback for the Achaeans. To turn to Achilles, when the hero has reentered battle, gods remove the two major Trojans from his attack: Aeneas is rescued by Poseidon, and Hector is warned by Apollo to keep back. Then Achilles begins a fullout attack, and separately slays four heroes. The second and third episodes are roughly equal (5lA and 6 lines), the first and fourth about twice the length of each of the two central ones. The first and second Trojan is struck on the head, the third and fourth in the back. In each case, the blow is more violent the second time. In the first episode, 'Great Achilleus struck him with the spear as he came in fury,/ in the middle of the head, and all the head broke into two pieces' (Y 386 f., tr. Latt.). Our passage, which occurs in the second episode, elaborates and intensifies this breaking of the head. In the third episode, the blow in the back is told briefly, but the dying man's shout is elaborated by a simile. In the fourth episode, the Trojan's identity is enlarged on - he is the youngest and dearest son of Priam - and the wounding and death is told with terrible detail surpassing in horror our passage in the second episode. Here our formulaic passage functions as an elaboration and intensification of the earlier attack on a Trojan's head. On the other hand, it belongs to the first half of the fourfold action, the second half of which becomes weightier, and leads to Hector being brought back to face Achilles. These contests, furthermore, occur at the very beginning of the mighty build-up of the battle actions of Achilles. Our formulaic passage in the context of Agamemnon's action occurs in the aristeia of that hero 26 , and more particularly in the series of his combats with four pairs of Trojan warriors. Its place in this series is in the first combat. The motif-element of the wound is, as we have seen, varied and the element of the pathos of death is added so that there is some increase in interest in comparison with the corresponding pas2 5 Let us note here that in the second exploit the attack of Leonteus is described in the same words in which the attack of Ajax is described: Μ 1 9 l b - 1 9 2 a = Ρ 2 9 3 b - 2 4 9 a , not translated identically by Lattimore; cf. above 95 f. 2 6 Cf. above 77 ff.

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sages about Achilles and Polypoetes. On the other hand, it is the first of Agamemnon's combats, and so forms the basis on which an elaborated and intensified sequence is built. To sum up, the group of formulae which we have discussed in its three occurrences functions in each case within a hero's battle action expressing his valour, but it always belongs to the earlier, as yet less intense part of a sequence of events. What is the position of the corresponding action of Ajax? It is, as we have seen, shaped on the same pattern of motifs as the other passages, but is formulaic to a small extent only, while on the other hand, expressive of great impetus and violence. It occurs in the five-fold sequences which we have named a 'call for help' after its most important element, and its place is at the beginning of the third sequence. The battle actions of Ajax, who is second only to Achilles (B 768), are spread widely through the fighting in the Iliad. He is a dangerous opponent for Hector in the duel of canto 2 (H 244 ff.) which is however broken off. He stuns and fells Hector in canto 4 (Ξ 409 ff.) which is his greatest achievement in his role as 'substitute' for Achilles. From then on he becomes the most powerful defensive champion of the Achaeans. He plays a dominant role in the fighting and final retreat of Book P. The climax of success for the Achaeans in this retreat comes at the beginning of the third 'call for help' sequence (P 288 f.) when, in consequence of Ajax' three slayings, the Trojans against the ordinance of Zeus almost have to withdraw into Troy (P 319 ff.). The first of the slayings is described in our passage: it introduces a climax in the epic. In the three, more or less formulaic passages analyzed above, length, fighting-force, and horror of the formulaic account are sufficient for the phases in the battle actions in which they occur. They would be inadequate for the fighting of Ajax in Ρ 293 ff. In consequence, the same motif-sequence is there expressed at greater length and in more dynamic ways. It seems to be the case that as elaboration and/or intensity increase in the structure of the narrative so does spontaneous expression, ever guided however by the patterns of traditional motif-sequences. To what extent the poet intends his audience to notice the likenesses and differences between these four passages we can hardly know. I think it is improbable. Some might, particularly those who were singers themselves and intensely aware of the craft of singing. The variations are rather the poet's response to the exigencies of his own story-telling. This is quite different in the case of the arming-scenes. These highly formulaic scenes are constructed with explicit, close reference to each other. In the full arming-scenes of cantos 1 to 5 formulae are used extensively and to great effect. 27 It is not surprising that the motif of arm27

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For references cf. chap. 3 n. 28.

ing being part of an άριστεία should have 'set' into a concentrated sequence of formulae. It must have occurred innumerable times in centuries of heroic song. Once it had become a set form which would be well known and expected by the audience, it offered to the poet a rare chance of producing splendid effects by variation and elaboration. From the point of view of content, the sequence follows, as it is bound to do, the natural, practical succession of the stages in a hero's arming. The basic pattern in its simplest form appears in the arming of Paris in canto 1: 'but he put about his shoulders his splendid armour brilliant Alexandras, the lord of lovely-haired Helen. First he placed along his legs the fair greaves linked with silver fastenings to hold the greaves at the ankles. Afterwards he girt on about his chest the corselet of Lykaon his brother since this fitted him also. Across his shoulders he slung the sword with the nails of silver, a bronze sword, and above it the great shield, huge and heavy. Over his powerful head he set the well-fashioned helmet with the horse-hair crest, and the plumes nodded terribly above it. He took up a strong-shafted spear that fitted his hand's grip.' (Γ 328 ff., tr. Latt.)

The elements of the arming-motif are, after a general statement about arming, the following: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

putting on of greaves of corselet of sword of shield of helmet taking up of spear or spears.

The only striking feature in this arming is the fact that the corselet which Paris puts on is not his own (Γ 333). It belongs to his brother Lycaon, but fits Paris. This piece of information is pointless in its context, but foreshadows 28 what happens in the arming of Patroclus who puts on, not his own, but 'the starry and elaborate' corselet of Achilles (Π 134). It may also be a foreshadowing, if only in the mind of the poet, of Lycaon's death who is killed naked by Achilles in the river-battle (Φ 50). In Agamemnon's arming (A 17 ff.), the putting on of the greaves and their description (1), and the putting on of the corselet (2) are told in words identical with the corresponding lines in the arming of Paris, and so are formulaic. After this, - apart from line 42 describing the plumed crest of the helmet which is formulaic - the motif elements run in the same sequence as in Paris' arming, but are expressed differently, and considerably elaborated. The corselet is a gift of King Cinyras of Cyprus 28

Cf. above 54.

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which is a compliment from one wealthy king to another. Corselet, sword, and the shield with its strap excel by a variety of precious metals demonstrating Agamemnon's immense wealth. This is reinforced when Athena and Hera by thunder honour 'the lord of deep-golden Mykenai' (46, tr. Latt.). Corselet and shield-strap are decorated with snakes, image of warlike aggression; 29 and the force of this image is heightened when the snakes are compared to rainbows (27). For, a rainbow set in the clouds by Zeus may be a sign of war or of a devastating storm (P 547 ff.). On the shield itself (cf. Λ 32-40) a Gorgo is pictured with her dreadful gaze30, and along with her, Fear and Terror. All the pictures express Agamemnon's might as a warrior and leader of warriors. In relation to the arming of Paris, Agamemnon's arming is only in part formulaic, and much elaborated for the purpose of conveying the magnificence and power in war of this greatest of kings. The arming-scene of Patroclus (Π 131 ff.) is almost entirely formulaic, being almost identical with that of Paris. This places him below Agamemnon in rank, on a level with Paris. What is more, two elaborations which distinguish his arming from that of Paris, in combination, ominously point to his death: Patroclus puts on the corselet of Achilles (134) - the audience knows that he is arming in Achilles' armour - but he has not the strength to take the huge spear of Achilles, and takes two other spears instead. Patroclus goes out to fight in Achilles' place, but is from the beginning inadequate for his task.31 It is also essential that the great spear made by Chiron and given to Achilles by his father should not fall into Hector's hands, as the rest of Achilles' armour does: with this spear Achilles will deal Hector his mortal wound (X 317 ff.). The motif of arming is expanded most fully in the case of Achilles in canto 5. Having lost his previous armour to Hector, apart from the great spear, he is given new armour made by the god Hephaestus. When he fights, his arms will therefore be partly divine and partly human, as he is himself. The famous shield and also the rest of his arms are described as they are being made by Hephaestus, not within the arming-scene of Achilles and not in the sequence of a hero's arming. But they and particularly the shield belong to Achilles' arming, since they correspond to the description of the metals and decoration of Agamemnon's armour. The making of the shield of Achilles is a variation on the finished shield of Agamemnon, the motif-element being the same. 32

29

Cf. the simile X 9 3 - 5 . The phrase δ ε ι ν ό ν δ ε ρ κ ο μ έ ν η is formulaic, though with different endings, -οι Γ 342 and -ω Ψ 815, but it does not occur in any other of the major arming-scenes. 31 Cf. Patzer, Dichterische Kunst und poetisches Handwerk 29 ff. for full interpretation. 32 The rest of the arms w h e n being made do not follow the traditional sequence of arming. 30

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The actual arming of Achilles (T 364 if.) follows the traditional sequence of motif-elements. The general statement of his arming (364) is expanded by a description of his berserk fury against the Trojans. The putting on of greaves, corselet, sword and shield are formulaic. The shield alone is once again elaborated, this time by the light radiating from it, and by two similes. The putting on and description of the helmet has no exact parallel in an arming-scene. 33 The words 'And round it fluttered the golden horsehair which Hephaestus had put round it as a crest in a dense mass' (382 f., my tr.) recur when Achilles rushes to attack Hector (X 315 f.). In the arming-scene there is further dynamic motion: the golden plume flutters, because Achilles tries out the fit of the new arms which lift him like wings (386). Finally, he draws his father's spear from its case. Its description is significantly identical with the one in the arming of Patroclus (T 388-91 = Π 141-4): the spear which Patroclus could not wield Achilles will wield in order to avenge his friend on Hector. In comparison with the arming of Agamemnon, the expansions in the arming of Achilles are much less concerned with the arms and their symbolism as they are for Agamemnon, than with Achilles himself in the pent-up violence of his fighting-rage (365 ff.), in the godgiven mobility of his limbs in the armour (384 ff.)34, and in the simile of the fire at a mountain farm unattainable by storm-driven sailors (375 ff.) which by implication points to the time when he will save his friends from destruction. The arming-scene of Athena in canto 2 (E 733 ff.) neither follows the traditional sequence of motif-elements, nor is it to any extent formulaic.35 So far as the arming-scene is related to any of the others, it is to that of Agamemnon: Phobos and Gorgo are pictured both on the αίγίς and on Agamemnon's shield. The only shared formula is the putting on of the helmet (E 743 = Λ 41). In Agamemnon's arming however the description of the helmet's crest is formulaic (A 42), while in Athena's arming the helmet is 'golden, wrought with men of a hundred cities.' Quite apart from being a woman which accounts for her putting on Zeus' χιτών, she, a divine being, is different from and much greater than any human warrior. In the arming-scenes, the poet clearly expects his audience to notice and enjoy the changes which he rings within the frame-work of this highly formulaic motif-sequence.

33

'Αστήρ ώς άπέλαμπεν = Ζ 295. Cf. Griffin, Homer on Life 36i. Athena putting on the αϊγίς Ε 738 is related to her placing it on Achilles in Σ 203b-204; αιγίδα θυανόεσσαν occurs in both passages, also in Ο 229; Ρ 593; Φ 400. 34 35

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Chapter 7 'Appositional expansions' Looking more closely at parts of these arming-scenes we can discern in them the two most important variants of Homeric style. Basically, it is 'paratactic', that is, a mode of expression in which phrases and sentences are strung along with a minimum of subordination. This procedure can function in a twofold way. It can progress in a linear, simply forward-moving direction. Or it can halt at an initial bald statement, expand on it, return to its starting-point, and from there move on. We have called this mode of expression 'appositional' 1 after the 'adding' or 'ap-positing' manner of its expansions. It is used anywhere in the Homeric poems where attention dwells on something, whether a person or an object or an event. This stylistic form has arisen out of the intensity of interplay between the singer and his listeners. It is expressive of a swift drive towards a goal in events, 2 and in a burning interest in exploring and savouring the experience of an object or a character or an event ever more richly and intensely. The acts of arming of Paris are stated in a linear sequence of sentences. At each step, the piece of armour mentioned is followed by an appositional elaboration. 3 The 'sword' is followed by the words 'silvernailed, brazen', the 'shield' by the words 'both big and strong'. The sentence 'over his head the powerful one, he set the well-fashioned helmet' (336) is followed by this elaboration of the helmet: 'horse-hair crested, and the plumes nodded terribly above it' (337). The transition to an independent sentence is characteristic for an appositional elaboration. 4 Another frequent feature of an appositional expansion is a movement into the past, as in the elaboration on Agamemnon's corselet: 'Afterwards he girt on about his chest the corselet that 5 Kinyras had given him once, to be a guest present. For the great fame and rumour of war had carried to Kypros how the Achaians were to sail against Troy in their vessels.

Cf. Thornton, Time and Style 1 f. and passim, esp. 75 f. Cf. above chapters 2 and 4. 3 This does not mean that a descriptive adjective never occurs within the initial statement, cf. Γ 336, A 32 and 41 etc. 4 Thornton, Time and Style 2. 5 τόν 'that' in Greek could be either demonstrative or relative. 1

2

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Therefore he gave the king as a gift of grace this corselet. On this there were ten circles of deep c o b a l t . . .' (Λ 19ff., tr. Latt., except for a slight alteration in the last line)

Here the narrative moves into the past when we are told that Agamemnon received the corselet from Cinyras as a guestgift (20), and it moves further into the past when the reason for this gift is mentioned, namely, that Cinyras heard of the proposed expedition of the Achaeans against Troy (21). From here the narrative moves forward again: 'that is why he gave him the corselet' (23), returning to the content of line 20. Then the poet goes on to describing the metals and decorations of the corselet in detail, and after that proceeds to the putting on of the next item of armour, the sword (29). He does not return explicitly to the corselet at the end of the whole expansion, but he does return to the linear sequence of arming by continuing it. This mode of expression occurs frequently quite apart from a formulaic sequence. A simple example is the description of the αΐγίς of Athena: . . . and among them (ran) Athene holding the aegis, highly prized, ageless and deathless, from which (or 'it') a hundred tassels, all of gold, hang fluttering, all well braided, worth a hundred cattle each. Conspicuous with it, she ran through the crowd of the Achaeans' (B 447ff., my tr.)

Here, the expansion takes the form of three adjectives 'ap-posited' to the initial mention of the aegis, then a full sentence (whether relative or connected by a demonstrative cannot be decided) describing the tassels hanging from it, which in their turn are enlarged on by two adjectival phrases. The whole expansion expresses the splendour, imperishable vigour and great value of this divine piece of equipment. The expansion is rounded off by a return to the initial mention of the αίγίς and to Athena 'rushing along'. 6 The 'return' to the initial mention or statement is often called 'ring-composition' since von Otterlo's work. 7 This is a convenient, but not altogether appropriate term. For, it is a spatial image for a temporal process which, particularly in the case of oral poetry, requires great caution. 8 It also may lead to the exclusion of cases in which the 'return' is not made explicit by a repetition or near-repetition of the initial statement.

6 7 8

θΟνε Β 4 4 6 understood from SOvov; in 4 5 0 the synonym δ ι έ σ σ υ τ ο picks it up. Von Otterlo, 'Ringkomposition' 16 ff. and passim. Schadewaldt, Iliasst. 84 calls it äußerlich, 'superficial'.

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Quite often an appositional expansion moves into the past which illuminates the significance of a person or an object. 9 The bow of Pandarus, for instance, is described in this way: 'Straightway he unwrapped his bow, of the polished horn from a running wild goat he himself had shot in the chest once, lying in wait for the goat in a covert as it stepped down from the rock, and hit it in the chest so it sprawled on the boulders. The horns that grew from the goat's head were sixteen palms' length. A bowyer working on the horn then bound them together, smoothing them to a fair surface, and put on a golden string hook. (And that [scil. the bow] he put in position and strung), bracing it against the ground . . . ' (Δ 105 ff., tr. Latt., except for the bracket).

Here the initial mention of the bow is expanded by its 'pre-history': the horn came from a goat hunted and killed by Pandarus; and its horns were artfully shaped into a bow by a craftsman. Then the narrative returns to the bow by a demonstrative referring back to the initial mention of the bow, and continues with Pandarus preparing to shoot. A particularly difficult and complex type of narrative in the Iliad in which the sequence of events seems confused and involuted 10 can be disentangled and understood as a series of this stylistic form. Both Nestor's tale of his youthful exploits (A 655 ff.) and the story of Meleager in the speech of Phoenix (I 529 ff.) are of this kind.11 The purpose of Nestor telling Patroclus about his youthful deeds of valour is to contrast his prowess in battle on behalf of his own people with the prowess of Achilles which he will not use to save the ships from fire nor the Achaeans from death (A 665 ff.), but which he will enjoy himself alone (763). 12 Nestor recounts two exploits. He performed the second in a battle between the men of Elis and those of Pylos, which is described from line 734 on, with the approaches of the two armies being told from line 707b on. This part of Nestor's tale follows the chronological sequence of events. But this battle is mentioned also at the beginning of his tale,13 followed immediately by reference to its cause, namely a Pylian reprisal raid on cattle (671 ff.). With this phrase, the story moves into the past in an appositional expansion describing the prior exploit of young Nestor in killing the main Elian hero (672 ff.), the great booty of cattle seized,

9 Cf. Nestor A 247 ff.; Agamemnon's scepter Β 101 ff., cf. Griffin, Homer on Life 9 f. in the chapter on 'Symbolic Scenes and Significant Objects'; Thornton, Time and Style 3 f., on Odysseus' bow 7 . 1 0 Kirk, Songs 169. " Schadewaldt, lliasst. 83 f., 141 η. 4; cf. Heubeck, Odyssee-Dichter 23. 1 2 Schadewaldt, lliasst. 84 'die Absicht, Nestor als Vorbild hinzustellen'. 13 Λ 671 νεΐκος; cf. 721 and 737 where νεΐκος refers to battle; cf. Cunliffe S.O. for other examples of the word meaning both 'strife' and 'battle'.

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the delight of Nestor's father, and the general distribution of the cattle among the Pylians to many of whom the Elians owed a debt. This and the reference to 'reprisal' are explained, rather vaguely and again moving into the past, by the line 'since we in Pylos were few and we had been having the worst of it' (688 f.). This, in turn, is explained in a further expansion into the past by the fact that Heracles had defeated the Pylians and killed all the eleven sons of Neleus apart from Nestor. This is the furthest point in the past that the story reaches. From here it retraces its steps: first to the ills inflicted by the Elians on the Pylians (694 f.), then, abruptly, to the distribution of the booty, but not yet to the general distribution among the Pylians, but to the earlier, substantial selection which Neleus makes for himself (696 f.). The size of his share is once again explained by an expansion into the past (698 ff.): Augeias had taken four of his finest race-horses, and sent the driver away 'a sad man' (702). The story moves forward when Neleus, in anger, takes a big share, and hands over the rest for general distribution, on which the battle between Pylians and Elians follows. The two actions in which young Nestor's exploits occur, namely, the cattle raid and the battle, are each told in the sequence of the actual events, though the cattle raid in itself is an expansion on the first mention of the subsequent battle. A traditional story about Nestor's deeds is here used by the poet to provide two instances of his prowess in action on behalf of his own people in need. The parts of the story not relevant to this purpose are told in expansions which fill in and explain by relating previous events. 14 It is possible for the poet to proceed in this way, because his utterance, like any utterance, is of necessity temporal, but his notion of 'time' is not quantitative, measurable and abstract, as ours is. It is qualitative and concrete, bound to the intense emotional experience of events, just as the 'drive towards a goal' and the 'appositional expansion and return' are bound. There is as yet no compelling abstract idea of time as progressing in a straight line from past to present to future. 'Qualitative' time is the 'deep structure' underlying the mental processes of the appositional style.15 14

The explanation may be quite sketchy. We do not really know what the Epeians did to the Pylians 695. 15 Cf. Thornton, Time and Style chapters 3 and 4, esp. 86-8 and 9 2 - 5 ; cf. Schadewaldt, Iliast. 84 'Das sachgebundene, an den Gegenständen selbst, keiner abstrakten Ordnung orientierte archaische Denken wirkt dabei mit. Gerade die Beispielerzählung, sofern sie vielschichtiger wird, nimmt diesen, von der abstrakten Zeitfolge her gesehen, oft seltsam verschlungenen Gang.' Cf. Vernant, mythe et pensee 57 on the 'genealogies' of Hesiod' Theogony: 'Cette genese du monde dont les Muses racontent le cours comporte de l'avant et de l'apres, mais elle ne se deroule pas dans une duree homogene, dans un temps unique. II n'y a pas, rythmant ce passe, une Chronologie, mais des genealogies. Le temps est comme inclu dans les rapports de filiation.'

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The Meleager story is formed on the same pattern. 16 The intention of Phoenix in telling the story to Achilles is to persuade him to give up his anger and help the Achaeans (I 522iL; 600ff.). As in Nestor's tale, the crucial battle is mentioned at once. The Aetolians defended their city of Calydon, the Curetes wanted to destroy it (I 529 ff.). From here, Phoenix moves into the past, to the cause of this war: Artemis raised evil against them, and further back to the cause of her action: Oineus, king of the Aetolians, had omitted to make sacrifices to her (534-7). From this point the story moves forward again to the goddess' anger and the evil she sent, namely, the wild boar which wrought much havoc (538-42), then to Meleager killing the boar, and finally to Artemis causing strife and war over the spoils of the boar hunt (547). With this, Phoenix returns abruptly to his first reference to the fighting between Curetes and Aetolians (529 ff.). This first expansion indicates very briefly the complex prehistory of the war. From here the story advances through a sequence of events which is parallel to the Achilles story. While Meleager was on the battle-field, the Curetes fared badly, and could not stay outside the wall of their camp, just as, while Achilles was fighting, the Trojans dared not come out far from the walls of Troy. But then anger entered the heart of Meleager, as it did the heart of Achilles. At this point the comparison is made explicit when Phoenix refers to 'others in whose breast anger swells in spite of their good sense' (553 f.). Meleager's anger is directed against his mother Althaea (555). Being angry he lies idly beside his wife Kleopatra (556). The poet expands on Kleopatra (557 ff.), daughter of Marpessa, whose father was Euenus, and whose husband was Idas, strongest of men. For he took up his bow against Apollo for the sake of his wife, and she was called Kingfisher Woman by her parents, because her mother grieved much, like a kingfisher, when Apollo snatched her daughter away. After this expansion into the 'prehistory' of Kleopatra, we return again to Meleager lying at her side (565), thus returning to the 'initial statement' of line 556. Next we return to the cause of this idleness, the anger of Meleager against his mother (565 f.), already mentioned in line 555. He was angry because of her curse, and she cursed him because he had killed her brother (567). Beating the ground Althaea called upon the powers of the Underworld to avenge her brother upon her son. After this third expansion the story returns, again abruptly, to the war between Aetolians and Curetes, which has owing to Meleager's absence moved into its next 1 6 Cf. Willcock, 'Mythological Paradeigma' 147 £f. for full interpretation. Willcock calls 'ring-composition' what we have called 'appositional expansion'. Cf. also Schadewaldt, Iliasst. 84 and 141 n. 4.

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phase: the battle-din is at the gates, and the towers of the city are being pelted (573 f.). From here the parallelism with the Achilles story is plain: an embassy of venerable Aetolians is sent to Meleager supplicating him, with gifts, to come and help his city (574 ff.). Meleager's old father Oineus, his sisters, his mother and his friends come to supplicate him. Only when the Curetes scale the walls of the city and begin to set it on fire, does Meleager yield to the supplication 17 of his wife, arms, and frees his city too late to receive any gifts for it. The story is intended to be an 'example' for Achilles and also a 'working model of future action' for the listener, as Webster calls it.18 A progressive chronological sequence of events is clearly distinguished from three expansions. Those events which are parallel to the events in the Iliad are told in a forward-moving chronological order. The rest are fitted in briefly in three expansions moving into the past, explaining and filling in. They are not told in chronological order, because the speaker is too eager to come to the event most important for his story: he seizes on this at once, and adds the rest afterwards. It is its 'exemplum'-character which drives the story forward, slowed down only by the backwardlooking expansions. 19 Only the expansion about Althaea's curse is necessary for the explanation of the onward-moving series of events. For it gives an account of the causes of Meleager's anger. The expansion about the Calydonian boar is unnecessary, but it must have been full of intrinsic interest for the audience who would know the whole story. On Kleopatra, Nagy20 indicates that 'By their very etymologies, the compound Κλεοπάτρη and Πατροκλέης convey with their mutually inverted members a parallel epic theme.' If the audience is expected to realize this, then the fact that Apollo snatched away Kleopatra, which caused much grief to her mother, foreshadows Apollo devastating Patroclus' strength, and the grief of Achilles at his death. Furthermore, it is Kleopatra, dearest to Meleager, who succeeds in persuading him to return to the battle, while Patroclus, dearest to Achilles, only succeeds in persuading Achilles to send him into battle in his stead - a difference of tragic irony. The stories of Nestor and of Phoenix which are shaped by this combination of linear and appositional sequences are both tales from outside the Trojan War adapted for the purpose of exhortation. In the Iliad, the 'prelude' itself (A 6-52) is an extensive appositional expansion. In his invocation to the Muse, the poet has indicated that his 17

Cf. below chapters 8 and 9 on 'supplication'.

18

W e b s t e r , Mycenae

19

T h o r n t o n , Time and Style 6.

20

Nagy, The Best of the Achaeans 105; cf. Schadewaldt, Iliasst. 140. Both authors refer

to Homer

249.

to Howald, Dichter 132.

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tale will begin with the quarrel between Agamemnon and Achilles, the event crucial for the 'anger' of Achilles. But he does not proceed directly to the call to assembly in which this quarrel will arise. 21 Instead, he asks which god caused this quarrel, that is, he asks for the 'prehistory' of the quarrel. The answer to the question is: Apollo. This is explained by the god's anger, against the king and the disease he sent into the camp in consequence. The narrative moves further into the past with the reason for Apollo's anger: Agamemnon dishonoured the god's priest Chryses; and still further with the description of the priest coming to the ships of the Achaeans in order to ransom his daughter. From here events progress chronologically. The scene of supplication and its angry rejection by Agamemnon is described in some detail, and so is the priest's prayer to Apollo. The story returns to the god's anger (44, cf.9) and to the plague which he sends into the camp (48, cf.10). It is the plague which, through Hera, motivates Achilles to call an assembly, and which leads to the quarrel between him and Agamemnon. 'Supplication' and its rejection or acceptance is, as I shall show in Part III, one of the two main 'institutions' used by the singer in relation to the anger of Achilles. It occurs three times in the major events unfolding from the quarrel of Achilles and Agamemnon. It is also the subject of the 'prelude'. As in Nestor's tale the young man's first exploit is told in an appositional expansion into the past on the initial mention of the battle in which his second, greater exploit occurs, so, at the beginning of the Iliad, the first instance of a supplication rejected is told in an appositional expansion into previous events on an initial mention of the quarrel which leads to Achilles' anger and the main 'supplications' of the epic. The use of appositional expansion here is an ingenious way of stepping immediately onto the main path of events, and yet pre-facing it with a short preview of that very path.

21 Lesky, Motivation 16 for backward and forward movement; for detailed interpretation cf. Kakridis, Homer Revisited, T h e First Scene with Chryses in the Iliad' 125 ff.

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Part III The 'theme7 of the Iliad, and its execution 'Pleading is a big thing a m o n g u s Limbas. You will send a friend to the other saying, "Please, please", pleading for y o u , asking the other to cease (from his anger). The other will agree w h e n he is entreated looking to Kanu (God). It is bad not to accept w h e n y o u are entreated. Kanu comes to u s all. Looking to Kanu - that m e a n s listening to the one w h o pleads.' Ruth Finnegan, 'Performative utterances a m o n g the Limba' 1

1

Cf. Appendix 4 for full context of the Limba quotation. Ill

Chapter 8 The nature of'supplicationand the four supplication-sequences in the Iliad The theme of the Iliad as a whole is, as Homer says at the beginning of the poem, the wrath of Achilles '.. . which put pains thousandfold upon the Achaians, hurled in their multitudes to the house of Hades strong souls of heroes, but gave their bodies to be the delicate feasting of dogs, of all birds' (A 2 - 5 , tr. Latt.)

How this devastating and unrelenting wrath could be halted is the problem worked out by the poet in the Iliad. The social and religious forces which are set against Achilles' violent passion are the 'institution' 2 of 'supplication', reinforced in the crucial portion of the poem, by the related institution of 'guestfriendship'. At the very beginning of the Iliad, the ordered whole of the motif-sequence of supplication is presented in the brief story of Chryses and Agamemnon. It is a 'prelude', as Schadewaldt calls it,3 and it is more than that: it is a 'preview'. Chryses, priest of Apollo, comes as a suppliant 4 bearing gifts of ransom entreating Agamemnon to return to him his daughter who has been captured and taken by Agamemnon as his prize of honour. Agamemnon angrily rejects the supplication. Chryses prays to Apollo to make the Achaeans pay5 for his tears, and Apollo sends his plague-carrying arrows into the Achaean army. In consequence, Agamemnon finds himself compelled to return the young woman to her father, who in prayer to Apollo acknowledges the god's fulfilment of his earlier prayer, and now prays for safety for the Achaeans (A 451 ff.). The order of events, in general terms, is the following: 1. some damage is done 2. a supplication is made with the object of having the damage repaired 2

The word 'institution' is here used in the sense in which Benveniste understands it (Indo-European Language and Sotiety, preface 11): 'it includes not only the institutions proper, such as justice, government, religion, but also less obvious ones which are found in various techniques, ways of life, social relationships and the processes of speech and thought.' 3 Schadewaldt, Iliasst. 144, 148, 150 'Vorspiel'; Heubeck, Studien zur Struktur der Ilias 19. 4 Cf. Plato, repl. 3.393 d4, Gould, 'Hiketeia' η. 1. 5 'Lose honour in payment', Adkins, ' "Honour" and "Punishment"' 28 and 30.

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3. 4. 5. 6. 7.

the supplication is angrily rejected the suppliant prays to his god for hurt to the man who rejects him the god damages the man supplicated in vain this man is forced to fulfill the suppliant's plea the suppliant prays for the safety of his former enemy.

The kernel of this motif-sequence is the supplication and its angry rejection with dire consequences. What is the meaning of an act of supplication and its acceptance or rejection in the Iliad? At the centre of the Embassy, Homer gives in the words of Phoenix a detailed description of its nature and the way in which it functions. Pleading with Achilles to cease from his anger Phoenix says the following: 496 Then, Achilleus, beat down your great anger. It is not yours to have a pitiless heart. The very immortals can be moved; their virtue and honour and strength are greater than ours and yet with sacrifices and prayers 6 for endearment, are, with libations and with savour men turn back even the immortals in supplication, when any man does wrong and transgresses. 502 For there are also the goddesses of supplication, 7 daughters of great Zeus, limping and wrinkled and looking sideways who take care to walk even after the goddess Blind Madness. But Blind Madness is strong and fleet-footed, wherefore she outruns them all by far, and is first over all the earth to damage men, but they come afterwards and heal. 508 Whoever feels shame before the daughters of Zeus when they come close, him they aid and hear his prayer. But when a man rejects them and rigidly refuses them, then they approach Zeus, son of Kronos, and supplicate him that Blind Madness should accompany that man so that he should be damaged and pay the penalty. But, Achilleus, you too grant that the daughters of Zeus may be accompanby honour, which does curb the mind of other men who excel.' ied (I 496-501, tr. Latt.; 502-15, my tr. using Latt. in part)

In order to understand this passage we have to see it in the context of life in the Homeric world as it was felt and judged by Homeric man. This world is, as is well known, ruled by an aristocracy of warriors in

6 Εύχωλή is 'prayer', not 'offering' (Latt.) The conjunction of gifts and pleading words is essential. Benveniste, Indo-European Language and Society 499 'All these ceremonies serve the purpose, by offerings and invocations, of bringing man and god into mutual relationships. But the act is opposed to, or is added to, the act of speech . . . every religious "action" is accompanied by a "prayer". These are the two halves of the complete rite; the two ways of communicating with the divine world.' Or, we might add, of communicating with other men in the Homeric world whom we have outraged. Cf. Burkert, Griechische Religion 126. 7 Both Lattimore and Benveniste (502) translate Λιταί as 'Prayers' which lends itself to the misunderstanding that the Λιταί are primarily directed to the gods, a considerable obstacle to understanding our passage.

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whose lives the supreme value is their 'honour' or 'status'. 8 'Honour' is constituted by prowess in battle, that is by sheer physical strength, and courage and daring in using that strength. It is also constituted by possessions. 9 These are the lands owned by the heroes, their great houses containing precious objects of gold, silver, and bronze, their servants, whether slaves or free, and their retainers who form their armies in war. 1 0 A man would gain all this either by inheriting it from his forebears, or else by winning it as booty in battle, or in raids by land or by piracy over the sea, or again by receiving gifts from those offering him hospitality. 11 A man's honour or status, in this sense, constitutes the Homeric warrior's worth. He has no other worth, generally speaking. The idea that a man might be poor and live an ordinary life without great deeds of valour, and yet might have inner worth has no place among the warriors of the Iliad. 12 If one of these heroes is either robbed of 'honour' by another man or is compelled to renounce 'honour' or 'status' himself, he feels worthless, diminished in his very being, divested of his own substance as a nobleman and warrior. 13 The consequence is that this society of warriors is fiercely competitive, and the danger that the competition for greater honour and status may deteriorate into strife is always close at hand. 1 4 Such is the nature of the tension between Agamemnon and Achilles. In the first six lines of our passage, Phoenix compares the supplication being made by his friends and himself to Achilles with a supplication men make to the gods when a man 'does wrong and transgresses'. 1 5 In comparing Achilles with the gods (I 497-501), Phoenix stresses the greater virtue or valour, honour or status, and strength of the gods over against those of mortals. Their great superiority would, in the Homeric world, make it all the more appropriate that they should strike at the transgressor in their anger. But supplication can turn even them to rec-

Τιμή, cf. Finley, World of Odysseus 125 ff., esp. 130. Finley 53 ff. 1 0 Finley 61. 11 Finley 132 ff. 1 2 Lesky, 'Zur Eingangsszene der Patroklie' 75. 1 3 Once 'honour is destroyed the moral existence of the loser collapses'. Snell, Discovery of the Mind 160 quoted by Finley 130. 1 4 Note the care which Hesiod takes in distinguishing the good from the bad Eris (Έργα 11 ff.), and how constructive competition still comprises 'anger' and 'envy' (25 f.). I do not think one should take the edge off these words, as West does, comm. ad loc. 8

9

1 5 Literally: 'oversteps' or 'transgresses' and 'misses his aim'. In the word άμαοτάνειν, three ideas are comprized, as yet undifferentiated except by the context: to miss one's aim, either with spear or arrow, or in a judgement determined by expediency, or in moral discernment.

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onciliation. Achilles, it is true, is great in honour, but still inferior to the gods, and therefore ought more readily to yield to pleading. The man on whose behalf the Achaean ambassadors supplicate Achilles is Agamemnon. That Agamemnon has, in fact, done wrong and transgressed is made plain in the first assembly of the poem. When Achilles is on the point of running Agamemnon through, and Athena seizes him by his hair, Achilles swings round in anger, and asks why she has come: '. . . Is it that you may see the outrageousness (ößpiv) of the son of Atreus Agamemnon? Yet will I tell you this thing, and I think it shall be accomplished. By such acts of arrogance (ύπεροπλίτ]σι) he may even lose his life.' (A 202 ff., tr. Latt.)

And Athene confirms Achilles' judgment of Agamemnon's behaviour when she says: 'Some day three times over such shining gifts shall be given you by reason of this outrage (ΰβριος εϊνεκα τησδε).' (A 213 f., tr. Latt.)

Her words make it clear that Agamemnon will have to pay in full measure for his outrage, that is, he will be punished for his transgression. Achilles also calls Agamemnon's behaviour 'transgression' (ύπερβασίη Π 17 f.) in speaking to Patroclus. 16 The detail of the complex act of supplication and the response to it is described in the Litai-passage.17 The Litai, the 'Supplications' are daugh1 6 It is not possible to maintain about the words 'transgresses and does wrong' (I 501) that 'these are words which imply a conception of moral conduct entirely foreign to the rest of the Iliad' as Page does (History and the Homeric Iliad 301). For ύπερβασίη and its consequences cf. Γ 107. Ψ 589, and in the Odyssey with reference to the Suitors and their men γ 206; ν 193; χ 64, 168. Cf. δίκη and δίκαιος Τ 180f. (cf. below 137). which should not here be translated otherwise than by 'justice' and 'just'. This does not mean that 'justice' is here what Dodds, Greeks and Irr. 32 calls 'justice as such', a comprehensive, purely moral concept. It is 'justice' of a kind, even though it is part of what is, to a large extent, still a shame culture (cf. νεμεσσητόν Τ 182, Adkins, Merit and Responsibility 53, 60 n. 22). In this context, shame and guilt cultures are inextricably one; and indeed it is reasonable to expect that the 'talk of the people' (Adkins 48) may be on the side of justice 'in a heroic society, in which feelings of shame and not feelings of guilt do the main work of morality' Lloyd-Jones, The Justice of Zeus 15. 17 Sheppard in his Pattern of the Iliad, esp. at the end, has pointed out that the Litaipassage is the key to the Iliad. Since then it has been declared late and not Homeric by Dodds, Greeks and Irr. 6, and Page, History and the Homeric Iliad 302 f. Page's statement about the ultimate responsibility for all actions lying not with man, but with the gods has been invalidated by Lesky's work on 'Göttliche und menschliche Motivation im homerischen Epos' (cf. also Dodds 20 n. 31). For my criticism of Page's rejection of our passage as belonging to a 'guilt-culture' and not to the 'shame-culture' of Homer cf. previous note. Long, 'Morals and Values in Homer' 133 n. 40 accepts Page's judgement. - The institution of 'supplication' has been fully explored by John Gould in 'Hiketeia' JHS 1973. I shall use this fine piece of work extensively. The Litai-passage itself

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ters of Zeus. Being of divine origin they are goddesses. 1 8 This is not said explicitly in the text, but their descent from Zeus indicates it, and it is appropriate to their actions, as we shall see. In status, they are sharply contrasted with their father, the highest and m o s t powerful of all gods. For, they are 'limping, wrinkled and looking sideways' (I 503). The nature of the goddesses embodies what is entailed in supplication: each one of these features expresses the lack of h o n o u r and the shame experienced by a suppliant making a supplication. Like the Litai, the god Hephaestus limps, and for that reason his mother Hera wants to hide him from the gods and throw him from Olympus (Σ 397), and his wife Aphrodite does not hold him in h o n o u r (0 3 0 8 f.), but loves Ares instead who is h a n d s o m e and swift-footed, just as Blind Madness is swiftfooted in contrast to the Litai (I 505). Thersites also is lame on one foot, he the most shamefully ugly and the most inferior of all the Achaeans before Troy (B 2 1 6 f . ; 248). The Litai are, further, 'wrinkled', like the old beggar into w h o m Athena turns O d y s s e u s so that he m a y appear 'mean and wretched' (v 3 9 8 . 4 3 0 ff.) to the Suitors. 1 9 The m o s t expressive feature of the Supplications is that they look sideways: they do not look the man w h o m they entreat straight in the face, because they feel ashamed and devoid of all h o n o u r . 2 0 In its m o s t explicit and 'complete' form, supplication finds expression in pleading words and in ritual action. In the Iliad, Thetis supplicates Z e u s in this form when she begs him to help Achilles:

is, however, not mentioned by Gould, see 80 nos. 38-9. Heubeck, Odyssee-Dichter 78 f. defends the passage. 18 Dodds 5, Lloyd-Jones 16, Nilsson, Geschichte der Religion 111 calls the Litai-passage an allegory. Chantraine, 'Le divin et les dieux chez Homere' 59 speaks of 'abstractions being personified'. Reinhardt 222 prefers 'personification' to 'allegory'. Willcock, Companion 283 speaks of 'true religious feeling' . . . 'in the moral teaching in the Parable of the Prayers in 9.502-12'. West is more precise when he says (introd. to comm. 33, on Hesiod's Theogony, cf. comm. on "Εργα 11-46) about 'Strife, Battle, Lies, Victory, Power etc.': 'In Hesiod's time (West believes Hesiod to be somewhat earlier than Homer, as others do not. Let us say that they were more or less contemporary), it was not understood what abstractions are - no more was it in Plato's. They must be something; they are invisible, imperishable, and have great influence over human affairs; they must be gods.' West compares Hesiod, "Εργα 760-4 where Hesiod argues in this way. - For the traditional introduction of the Litai-passage cf. West on Hesiod, "Εργα 11-46: 'In Greek admonitory literature we several times find utterances of the form There is one such god as . ..' (examples follow). Ά similar pattern can be used when a beneficial deity is being neglected: II. 9. 502 (text). Description of the deity's nature and effects follows.' 19 Cf. Gould, Hiketeia note 104 on the word for 'beggar', πτωχός meaning 'literally one who crouches, skulks or cringes', which in turn connects with the supplicant's posture. 20 Gould, note 74 shows, by many examples, that 'the characteristic demeanour of the αίδοΐος is the abashed down-casting of the eyes'.

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'She came and sat beside him with her left hand embracing his knees, but took him underneath the chin with her right hand and spoke in supplication to lord Zeus son of Kronos.' (A 500-2, tr. Latt.)

According to Gould, 'the significant elements in this sequence of actions are those of lowering the body and crouching (sitting or kneeling), of physical contact with knees and chin, and of kissing. 21 O f these gestures only touching the knee is found exclusively in the act of supplication, and we shall see that supplication in some sense can be said to take place without any of them, but together they constitute the ritual act in its 'complete' or 'strongest form'. 22 The meaning of these typical gestures of a suppliant is that they express 'total self-abasement', 'his own defenselessness and lack of any claim to τιμή', that is 'honour' or 'status'. 23 The description of the Litai expresses this shame and lack of honour in the suppliant. The first action of the Litai is that they take care to follow after Blind Madness. They have to go after her, because they limp, and she is fast. She is, in fact, their opposite, being strong and fleet-footed; and while she does damage to men, the Litai come to heal the damage afterwards (507). The nature of Blind Madness (&τη) is described by Dodds 2 4 as a 'partial and temporary insanity', 'ascribed not to physiological or psychological causes, but to an external "daemonic" agency.' This daemonic agency is most frequently Zeus 2 5 or sometimes 'the gods' or 'some' god. 26 But it may be άτη herself seen as an external divine power 'seizing a man' (Π 805. Ω 480). Agamemnon speaks of her as the 'eldest and most venerable daughter of Zeus, 'Madness who makes all men mad' (T 91). In seizing a man she imparts to him her own nature so that he is filled with blind madness and is harmed by what he does in that state. For, Blind Madness 'over all the earth does harm to men' (I 506 f.). 27 The mutual relationship between Ate and the Litai is envisaged as a race. Blind Madness always 'outruns' the goddesses of Supplication and causes the damage which is her consequence; and after that the Litai arrive to bring healing. Here, another facet of the characterization of the Litai as 'limping' and 'wrinkled' appears. Because they can only walk slowly and are old, they are bound to arrive after Blind Madness. The Θ 371; Ω 478. Gould 76. 2 3 Gould 94. 2 4 Dodds, Greeks and Irr. 5. 2 5 Cf. I 18 ff. referring to Β 6 ff. 2 6 Dodds 3 f. 2 7 Cf. Eris, 'Strife' as a goddess (A 10) and sister of Ares throwing strife (νεΐκος) among the fighting men; Phobos, 'Fear and Flight', accompanying his father Ares filling even a stout-hearted warrior with 'fear and flight' (N 299 f.). 21

22

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causal relation between a man being in serious trouble through his own wrong action and the supplication which must follow is not represented as a consequence, but as the interplay of different divine powers competing. In the next five lines, the response of the man supplicated is described. He may either accept the supplication or reject it. If he accepts it, his motivation for doing so is a feeling of 'reverence' or 'shame' (αιδώς) before the goddesses who approach him. αιδώς 'inhibits' 28 his anger so that he is enabled not to dishonour the suppliant further by leaving him grovelling or even hurting him in addition, but to restore him to honour. If in this way he 'reveres' the Litai, they will bless him. This alternative is dealt with only briefly in the Litai-passage, because Phoenix is more concerned to warn Achilles against the results of intransigence than to paint the blessings of compliance, and the poet is also intent on foretelling the action to come which is outlined in the second alternative. If the Litai are rejected, they 'supplicate' Zeus to intervene on their behalf (I 511). The fact that the Supplications turn to Zeus entreating him to proceed against the person who has rejected them means that Zeus is their protector. Achilles is well aware of this later on when he warns Priam not to provoke his anger: 'you must not further make my spirit move in my sorrows, for fear, old sir, I might not let you alone in my shelter, suppliant as you are; and be guilty before the god's orders.' (Ω 5 6 8 - 7 0 , tr. Latt.) 29

Zeus is the Zeus ίκετησιος, 'protector of suppliants' of whom Odysseus speaks when he believes he has been betrayed by the Phaeacians whom he had ritually supplicated: 'May Zeus of the Suppliants punish them, for he oversees other men besides, and punishes anyone who transgresses.' (v 213 f., tr. Latt.) 30

What the Litai beg Zeus to inflict on the man rejecting them is that Blind Madness 3 1 should follow (or 'accompany') him so that he should 2 8 Gould, 'Hiketeia' 86ff. Reinhardt, llias 2 2 0 ; 222 f. thinks that supplication (Bitten) belonged to the original story of the wrath of Achilles and that the poet of the Iliad added the 'humane' element of 'Ehrfurcht' (αιδώς). But Gould's work shows that αιδώς is inherent in the institution of 'supplication'. 2 9 Tsagarakis, Nature and Background of Major Concepts of Divine Power 22. - Zeus' order to Achilles to hand over Hector's body is a specific case of his ordinances concerning suppliants, cf. Ameis-H. on Ω 5 7 0 ; cf. Ω 157f. 3 0 Dodds 32 and 52 n. 19 maintains that in the Iliad Zeus does not protect suppliants, and Gould 8 0 n. 38 acknowledges, with some reservation, that Dodds 'is right in pointing out that the Iliad has no reference to Zeus as protector of suppliants.' This mistaken view is due to the elimination of the Litai-passage. 3 1 "Ατη does not mean 'objective disaster' here, as Dodds seems to think (5). It means 'Blind Madness' as in line 505 and elsewhere in the Iliad. The disaster consequent upon "Ατη is expressed by βλαφθείς άποτείση.

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be hurt and pay the penalty. This sequence of events is executed in the subsequent events of the poem. 32 Once again then, Phoenix urgently addresses Achilles by name (I 513, cf. 496) and pleads with him: he should grant 'honour' (τιμή) to follow the daughters of Zeus. If he were to reject them, he would 'dis-honour' them, that is, he would not raise them from the abject state of wretchedness which is theirs as suppliants. 33 The subject-matter of the Litai-passage, namely the institution of 'supplication' is very ancient. The multitude of examples of supplication occurring in the Homeric epics 34 and the firmness of this institution of Ικετεία, which includes the seeking of asylum at a god's altar both in tragedy and in history, shows that Homer did not refer to, far less created a novelty. Furthermore, the antiquity of the institution of λιτή as Indo-European is guaranteed by its etymological connection with the Latin word litareS5 According to Benveniste, 'the λιτή is a prayer to offer reparation to the person, god or man, who has been outraged, or with a view to obtaining from the god for oneself reparation for an outrage.' Both these aspects of the institution are covered by the Litai-passage: in the humble approach of the goddesses to the man outraged, and in their appeal to Zeus when they have been rejected. Benveniste also adduces the Latin adjective supplex as 'a term descriptive of the posture of the suppliant, "the one who is bent at the feet of"' someone, and the verb supplicare as meaning 'to adopt the posture of the suppliant'. 36 It is perhaps possible to take one further step, namely to suggest that 'supplication' may have been a variant of a motif within the ancient, Indo-European motif-sequence of a hero's initiation. According to Burkert, 37 the myth of Achilles 'contains an accumulation of themes belonging to initiation from the baptism by fire, education by the Centaur to the young hero's disguise as a girl'. 38 This would obviously need much fuller investigation. I should only like to suggest that the subject-matter of the Iliad, the wrath of Achilles gradually tempered and finally overcome by supplication is a variant of the motif that the uncontrolled violence of a young warrior who has just proved himself in a ferocious deed of valour must be checked so that he does not become a danger to his own people. According to Melia who uses the work of Dumezil in 3 2 For examples of the wrath of Zeus descending on those rejecting a supplication cf. Gould, 'Hiketeia' 89. On άποτίνειν cf. above chap. 8 n. 5. 3 3 Cf. Thetis άτιμοτάτη A 516. 3 4 Cf. Gould 80 n. 39. 3 5 Benveniste, Indo-European Language and Society 503. 3 6 Benveniste 504. 3 7 Burkert, 'Apellai und Apollon' 19. 3 8 Cf. also Dumezil, Horace 27.

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his discussion of the 'Boyhood deeds of Cuchulainn' from the medieval Irish saga, the 'Cattle Raid of Cooley' 39 , 'it is a striking feature of the warrior class that the more successfully it is able to fulfill its function, the more dangerous it is to the society which it serves. The uncontrollable violence which characterizes the superb warrior - for instance, Cuchulainn's riastrad ("heroic distortion") - is a clear danger to the warrior's own community, if not checked by some means, for example Cuchulainn's immersion, Horatius' performance of the "Horatian Rites" and passage under the yoke to symbolize his submission to the rest of the state.' 40 Cuchulainn's 'immersion' consists in the hero ablaze with the fury of fighting being plunged consecutively into three vats of cold water: the first vat breaks, the water in the second vat boils, and in the third one becomes tepid. Cüchulainn's wrath is, literally, being 'cooled off', as is the wrath of Achilles by encountering supplication after supplication, first from his friends, then from his enemies. Griffin shows that the fighting-fury of a great Homeric warrior though kept within the bounds of what is human corresponds to the rage of the Irish Cuchulainn. 41 In its detail, the Litai-passage is most closely relevant to Achilles. Being part of a warning to him by Phoenix to heed the dangerous consequences of rejecting a supplication, it foretells the shape of things to come. As far as formal structure goes, the motif-sequence of supplication as unfolded in the Litai-passage is the mould by means of which the poet has fashioned his Iliad. Just as he doubles the battle-actions of Diomedes in order to give him a full and splendid άριστεία, just as he manages the long and difficult retreat of the Achaeans with the body of Patroclus by using the 'call for help'-sequence several times, so he constructs his poem as a whole by a fourfold use of the motif-sequence of supplication. 42 This sequence occurs for the first time in the 'prelude' which we have already analyzed. The beginning of the second sequence is intertwined with the final stages of the prelude. Agamemnon, in his anger over his loss of honour in losing Chryseis, quarrels with Achilles, and takes for himself Briseis, another captive woman, the prize of honour of Achilles: damage is done in consequence of Agamemnon's blind madness. Achilles, in anger at his loss of honour in losing Briseis to Agamemnon, begs his mother Thetis to supplicate Zeus (A 394):

Melia, 'The Boyhood Deeds of Cuchulainn' 34. Cf. above Dumezil n. 38. and Livy I 26. 41 Griffin, Homer on Life 39 and n. 97, also 89 f. 42 There are a number of smaller cases of 'supplication' some of which are connected with the overall scheme. Cf. below 138 f. 39

40

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'Now, if perhaps he might be willing to help the Trojans, and pin the Achaians back against the ships and the water, dying, s o that thus they m a y all have profit of their o w n king, that Atreus' s o n wide-ruling A g a m e m n o n may recognize his m a d n e s s (άτην) that he did n o h o n o u r to the best of the Achaians.' (A 408 ff„ tr. Latt.)

Thetis promises to fulfill his wish. She approaches Zeus on Olympus in the full traditional posture of a suppliant. 43 Her plea - more general than that of Achilles - is that Zeus should give victory to the Trojans until the Achaeans honour Achilles. Zeus remains silent, until Thetis pleads again, more urgently, clasping his knees more closely. Then, although troubled by the opposition of Hera which he will have to control, Zeus nods his all-powerful assent to the supplication of Thetis and, through her, of Achilles. The nod of Zeus and the oath of Achilles, who has sworn by the staff carried by judges under the commission of Zeus that he will not fight on behalf of the Achaeans, determine events throughout cantos 1 up to the latter part of canto 4.44 Achilles is absent from the battle, Zeus causes the renewal of fighting in canto 1 by sending a deceptive dream to Agamemnon, and then he lets the Trojans beat back the Achaeans increasingly in cantos 2, 3, and 4, in spite of the opposition of Hera and Athena, and Poseidon and Hera in cantos 2 and 4. It is only gradually 45 that Zeus reveals the precise limit of his aid to the Trojans, the point in events at which he will consider his promise to Thetis to be fulfilled. In canto 3, Zeus tells Hector through Iris that he will '... guarantee power to Hektor to kill men, till he makes his w a y to the strong-benched vessels, until the sun g o e s d o w n and the blessed darkness c o m e s over.' (Λ 1 9 2 - 4 , tr. Latt.)

In canto 4, Zeus prophesies, in the presence of Hera, that Hector restored by Apollo will turn the Achaeans to flight so that they fall back upon the ships of Achilles (O 59 ff.). Thereupon Achilles will send out Patroclus, which means that the Trojans will be turned to flight (cf. also 232 ff.). Finally, when the Trojans at last swoop down upon the ships (O 592 ff.), the poet states himself the exact limit at which Zeus will consider his promise to Thetis as completely fulfilled: 'Zeus' desire was to give glory to the s o n of Priam, Hektor, that he might throw o n the curved ships the inhuman weariless strength of fire, and so make completely accomplished

43 44 45

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Cf. above 117 f . Cf. Griffin, Homer on Life 154 and 11. Schadewaldt, lliasst. 112 f. stückweise.

the prayer of Thetis. Therefore Z e u s of the counsels waited the sight before his eyes of the flare, w h e n a single ship b u r n e d . From thereon h e would make the attack of the Trojans surge back again f r o m the ships, and give the D a n a a n s glory.' (O 596 ff„ tr. Latt.)

At this point, Zeus will be satisfield that he has redeemed Achilles' loss of honour completely. In this second sequence, the supplication is accepted and fulfilled. In the third, and most important, sequence, the supplication is rejected, as it was in the first. The beginning of the third sequence is intertwined with the second sequence. The first phase of damage done to the Achaeans, namely their retreat in canto 2 (Book Θ) leads to the Embassy in canto 3 (Book I). The Embassy is the most extensive supplication in the whole of the Iliad. But the man whose action had caused the supplication of Thetis to Zeus, by his action, and the consequent damage to the Achaeans, Agamemnon does not come, and so there is no supplication in the traditional ritual sense which would have implied a voluntary act of submission. Agamemnon is, in fact, anything but submissive, as we shall see, though the three ambassadors plead with humility for all the Achaeans. While Achilles gives in to the extent that he will not go home, but fight when the Trojans attack his own ships, he rejects the entreaty of the Achaeans, his friends and indeed guestfriends, to come to their aid here and now. A reinforcement of their supplication reaches him in the person of Patroclus in canto 4. The reproaches and exasperation of Patroclus at Achilles' intransigence imply a plea that Achilles himself should come to the aid of the Achaeans (Π 29-35). That this is what Patroclus intends and hopes to bring about is explicit in his words to Eurypylus: I go in haste to Achilleus, to stir him into the fighting. W h o k n o w s if, with God helping, I might trouble his spirit by entreaty, since the persuasion of a friend is a strong thing.' (O 402 ff., tr. Latt.)

But Achilles rejects this part of the entreaty, and accepts only Patroclus' plea for a second-best, namely to send him in his own armour. Before Patroclus can even arm, one Achaean ship is set on fire by the Trojans (Π 122). At this point, Zeus' promise to Thetis is completely fulfilled. But Achilles is still not satisfied with the extent of the Achaeans' sufferings. He sends out Patroclus to drive the Trojans back from the ships, no more. According to the Litai-passage, the goddesses will entreat Zeus who will send Blind Madness on Patroclus who is, in consequence, killed by Hector so that Achilles is punished for rejecting them. 46

46

For &τη befalling Patroclus, not Achilles see below 135 and n. 36.

123

The final and greatest supplication is that of Priam to Achilles for the body of Hector (Book Ω), which is accepted by Achilles. This plea has been foreshadowed as early as in canto 2 (Book H) when Hector before his single combat with Ajax proposes that the body of the vanquished man should be returned to his people. 47 It is also prepared for by three other supplications to which we shall return presently. The encounter between Priam and Achilles is a full traditional supplication scene. Priam takes the knees of Achilles in his arms, and kisses his hands (Ω 477 ff.), and he pleads with him, appealing at the end for reverence for the gods and pity with himself. Achilles takes Priam by the hand, and helps him to his feet (515), offers him a seat (522), and finally a meal. This supplication is made and accepted in the fullest ritual detail. There are, then, in the Iliad four motif-sequences centered on a supplication. The technique of arranging these four sequences is the same as we have found used in other motif-sequences. The fact that in the first and third instances supplication is rejected, and in the second and fourth accepted is also characteristic of the Homeric delight in symmetry.

47

124

Cf. above 67 f.

Chapter 9 Agamemnon

and the Achaeans as the 'suppliants'; Achilles as the 'supplicated'

Let us now turn from the more general idea of the meaning of supplication and the formal motif-structure of the poem to the characters in whose actions all this is embodied, namely those who are suppliants and those who are supplicated. This means handling the same material from a different perspective. In the third and main sequence, the suppliants are, on the one hand, Agamemnon, and on the other, the Achaeans represented first by Odysseus, Phoenix and Ajax, and later by Patroclus. The man supplicated each time is Achilles. We shall begin with Agamemnon. In the Embassy of Book I, supplication is twofold. The Ambassadors supplicate Achilles on behalf of Agamemnon, but they also supplicate him on behalf of themselves and all the Achaeans. This complexity is apparent in the oath which Achilles swears in his wrath in the first assembly, addressing it to Agamemnon: ' . . . and this shall be a great oath before you: some day longing for Achilleus will come to the sons of the Achaians, all of them, when in their numbers before man-slaughtering Hektor they drop and die. And then you will eat out the heart within you in sorrow, that you did no honour to the best of the Achaians.' (A 2 3 9 ff., tr. Latt.)

It is through the suffering and the deaths of the Achaeans that Achilles will take vengeance on Agamemnon (cf. A 410 ff.). He knows that when he himself withdraws from the fighting they will be beaten so that the honour of Agamemnon, their leader, will be diminished, and Achilles' own honour will rise in proportion to the increasing need for his help. In the prelude, Agamemnon had, against the will of the Achaeans (A 22 f.), rejected the supplication of Chryses, Apollo's priest; and the Achaeans had then already suffered for their leader's ill-deed by many of them dying with the plague sent by the god. In the quarrel scene, Agamemnon does not believe that Achilles' withdrawal will bring dishonour to him: there are others who will honour him and most of all Zeus (A 175). But through the supplication of Thetis to Zeus on behalf of her son, Zeus turns against Agamemnon so that the Achaeans are increasingly defeated and driven back until one of their ships is set on fire by Hector. What is Agamemnon's attitude? At first he is buoyed up by 125

Zeus' false dream promising the Fall of Troy that very day. But then, daunted by the near-failure of his attempt to rouse the discouraged Achaeans to renewed fighting, 1 he acknowledges that in the dispute with Achilles he himself was the first to rage outrageously, and he recognizes that Troy will fall only when he and Achilles agree in counsel (B 377ff.). His prayer to Zeus that he, Agamemnon might topple the palace of Priam that very day is rejected by the god for the time being (B 412 ff.). But Agamemnon does not know this. After the defeat of the Achaeans in the second canto, Agamemnon's confidence is shattered. Addressing the assembled Achaeans he acknowledges with tears pouring over his face, that Zeus bound him in blind madness with the promise of the imminent Fall of Troy (I 13 ff.). Now the god commands him to return home without fame, since he has lost many of his men. So he proposes flight, now in earnest, as he had done previously in order to 'test' the army, without meaning it.2 He has given up all hope of conquering Troy. Agamemnon evades any reference to Achilles. This is what Nestor means when he says that Agamemnon has not reached the completion of his argument (I 56). Nestor arranges for the embarrassing business of the quarrel with Achilles to be discussed, not before the full assembly, but in Agamemnon's own cabin in the council of the Elders. After a diplomatic preamble of praise, Nestor accuses Agamemnon of having yielded to anger and having dishonoured the strongest man in the army who is honoured by the gods, by taking his prize. He proposes an attempt to reconcile Achilles 'by pleasing gifts' and 'winning words' (I 113), in fact, by supplication. Agamemnon acknowledges his blind madness in doing what he did, and is ready to conciliate Achilles by boundless gifts. The abundance and splendour of these gifts are a proud display of superior wealth and power rather than a humble offer for reconciliation. There are no 'winning words'. The message Agamemnon sends to Achilles after the enumeration of the gifts is this: 'let him give way. For Hades gives not way, and is pitiless, and therefore he among all the gods is most hateful to mortals. And let him yield place to me, inasmuch as I am the kinglier and inasmuch as I can call myself born the elder.' (I 158ff., tr. Latt.)

These are not the humble words of a suppliant. Far from abasing himself Agamemnon insists on his superior honour. 3 Nestor is well aware that the necessary words of self-abasement are missing when he says: 1

Cf. chap. 3 n. 54. The complete reversal in Agamemnon's attitude and emotions is ironically brought out by his using the same words here as in Book Β: I 18-25 = Β 111-118; I 26-28 = Β 139-141. 3 Cf. Kalinka, 'Agamemnon' 14 f. 2

126

'The gifts which you are giving to the lord Achilleus, are not contemptible any more.' (I 164, m y tr.)

He implies (μέν) that Agamemnon has spoken no words of propitiation, as Nestor had proposed (113). Odysseus who works in close collaboration with Nestor (cf. 180) substitutes for the concluding words of Agamemnon an appeal for mercy on behalf of the Achaeans in their need. 4 When at the end of Book I Odysseus has told the news of Achilles' refusal, it is Diomedes who replies. Agamemnon has nothing to say. But at night while the Achaean host sleeps, Agamemnon is racked with anxiety for his men and the ships. 5 His profound despair leads to resolute action: he goes to find Nestor in order to consult with him and others about a plan to ward off disaster from the Achaeans, as Achilles had advised. The plan of a night raid into the Trojan camp proposed by Nestor is successfully executed by Diomedes and Odysseus so that the general mood changes from despair to fresh hope. Agamemnon leads off the new day of battle with a brilliant attack, but he is wounded and has to withdraw. The Achaeans are again defeated, and Hector breaches the Wall. When Nestor meets with the three, now wounded heroes, Diomedes, Odysseus and Agamemnon, Agamemnon feels beaten: Hector will burn the ships and kill the men before nightfall, and the Achaeans, like Achilles, will in anger against him refuse to fight for the ships. Nestor confirms Agamemnon's view of the seriousness of the situation, and casts about for what might be done. Then Agamemnon once again, since the Wall is broken and Zeus is against them, proposes to flee: T h e r e is no shame (νέμεσις) in running, even by night, from disaster. The man does better who runs from disaster than he who is caught by it.' ( Ξ 8 0 f., tr. Latt.)

Odysseus opposes him in a devastating speech. He wishes Agamemnon were the leader of some other army, a 'worthless' army, rather than of the Achaeans. He tells him to keep silent. For, no man who knew in his heart to say the right things and was a scepter-holding king and lord over as many people as Agamemnon was, could say what Agamemnon had said. This is an indirect way of declaring Agamemnon unworthy of his leadership, a very serious charge. It is crowned by a contemptuous exposure of the uselessness of Agamemnon's proposal, and rounded off

4 Cf. 4 9 9 'sacrifices and prayers', cf. above p. 114 and n. 6. Cf. Lohmann, Komposition der Reden 225 η. 2 2 ; Bassett, Poetry 1 9 6 ; Thornton 'Once again, the Duals in Book 9 ; 4 ; Reinhardt, Ilias 230ff., on I 370 has difficulty in explaining the deceit (Betrug) felt by Achilles: it consists in the lack of the necessary self-abasement or apology from Agamemnon which is covered up by Odysseus substituting for it an entreaty from the Achaeans. 5

For detail cf. above 83 f.

127

by the ironical address leader of the people' (Ξ 102). Agamemnon is struck to the quick (104). He does not turn for advice to Nestor, the acknowledged master of wisdom, but utterly humbled he asks for someone else, 'young or old' to give better advice, and Diomedes gives it. Agamemnon's insistence on his 'greater age' and 'superior kingship' (cf. I 160 f.) has vanished. When Achilles, after the death of Patroclus, calls an assembly, Agamemnon is ready to 'supplicate' him truly. 6 He no longer needs to plead with Achilles to return to the battle: Achilles will do so. But Agamemnon has known for a long time (B 379) that Troy will only fall if he and Achilles come to take counsel together, and that implies complete reconciliation. The necessary gesture of 'self-abasement' combined with humble acknowledgement of his wrong-doing, therefore follow, and this takes place before all the Achaeans. Everybody comes. Of the leaders three are mentioned: Diomedes, Odysseus and Agamemnon, in that order. The first two come limping, leaning on their spears. 'For they still had grievous wounds' (T 49). Diomedes had been struck in his right foot, and Odysseus across the ribs (Λ 377. 437). They sit down at the front of the assembly. Agamemnon comes last, also 'having a wound' (T 52), his arm having been pierced below the elbow by Coon's spear (T 53 and Λ 252 f.). This wound is no reason for his coming last; one would expect him to come first, before the other two. 7 When he has been addressed by Achilles who is revoking his anger, 'Now among them spoke forth the lord of men Agamemnon from the place where he was sitting, and did not stand up among them' (T 76 f., tr. Latt.)

Why does Agamemnon not 'stand up', as a speaker would normally do? 8 Once again, his wound being in his arm would not prevent him. 6 Cf. Bröcker, Theologie der Ilias 16 'Jetzt verwandelt sich Achills Groll gegen Agamemnon in einen Groll gegen Hektor, und des nun erfolgenden zweiten Bittgangs, bei dem das alte Angebot wiederholt wird, hätte es gar nicht bedurft, um Achills Beistand zu gewinnen.' 64 n. 4. 'Das bedeutet nicht, die Versöhnung mit Agamemnon sei für die Dichtung entbehrlich oder gar schädlich. Soll etwa der Groll Achills gegen Agamemnon ohne Ende fortdauern oder sprachlos erlöschen?' 7 Cf. Β 84; in Ξ 29 the mention of Agamemnon after Diomedes and Odysseus is not stressed as in Τ 51, and may be no more than metrical convenience. 8 Cf. Willcock, Companion to the Iliad 216 on line 77; cf. also discussions by Leaf and Ameis-H. ad loc. In ν 56, adduced by Ameis-H., the contrast is between the Phaeacians remaining seated (αύτόθεν έξ έδρέων) while they offer libation to the gods, and Odysseus who gets up to approach Arete (άνά δ'ϊστατο δϊος 'Οδυσσεύς). In Τ 77 the contrast is the same between Agamemnon 'remaining seated' and the elaboration of the phrase by its opposite 'and not standing up in the middle'. If, as Ameis-H. maintain, έν μέσσοισιν were stressed, one might expect a reference to it in Agamemnon's speech. But Agamemnon, in fact, refers to a man 'standing' as he speaks, and points out the difficulties which even he could encounter. The implication of έσταότος is that Agamem-

128

The reason is that here at last Agamemnon comes before Achilles as a suppliant. His 'sitting' is the 'lowering the body and crouching (sitting or kneeling)' 9 which expresses the suppliant's self-abasement. Correspondingly, in coming last, he 'dragged his feet', like the limping Supplications. The same attitude is expressed in his speech. When he emphasizes the difficulties that a speaker standing up has, in view of the possibility of interruptions and general noise, 10 he implies how much harder it is for himself to speak sitting. Furthermore, he does not, as Lohmann points out, 11 address Achilles except in the last six lines of his first speech (139-44). But he addresses the Achaeans and later Odysseus. For, having in his blind madness dishonoured Achilles he now does not 'dare to look the offended man in the face'. 12 This avoidance of a direct address expresses the attitude of shame and humiliation (αιδώς) of the suppliant, and corresponds to the 'down-cast eyes' of the Supplications. In his speech to the Achaeans, Agamemnon explains and, up to a point, excuses his wrong-doing by the Blind Madness sent upon him by Zeus, Moira, and Erinys (T 86 ff.), but he does not therefore reject his own responsibility to pay for the damage he has done: 'But since I w a s deluded ( ά α σ ά μ η ν ) and Z e u s took m y wits a w a y from m e , I a m willing to m a k e all g o o d and give back gifts in a b u n d a n c e . ' (T 1 3 7 f., tr. L a t t . ) "

When Agamemnon does speak to Achilles directly - and in the briefest and simplest form - , he utters words which ought to have been the conclusion of his message to Achilles through Odysseus in Book I. While Achilles had urged Agamemnon to send the Achaeans into battle (T 68 f.), Agamemnon now, in one line, divests himself of all the honour that is his as leader of the Achaean host, and offers it to Achilles: 14 'Rise up, then, to the fighting and r o u s e the rest of the people' (T 1 3 9 , tr. Latt.)

n o n is sitting - n o t b e c a u s e o f his w o u n d , but as o c c u p y i n g the έ δ ρ α ν . . . π ρ ο σ τ ρ ό π α ι ο ν (cf. A e s c h . Eum. 4 1 , Soph. OT13,

OC112)

- and that, therefore, his difficulties are

greatly increased. Lines 7 9 - 8 2 are then, a plea o f A g a m e m n o n to be heard even w h e n h e is 'sitting' as a h u m b l e suppliant, a l t h o u g h even a m a n 'standing' might have difficulty in being heard (cf. Β 9 9 f . ; 2 7 9 f f . ) . - Differently Erbse, ' B e m e r k u n g e n zu H o m e r u n d zu seinen Interpreten' 2 4 3 - 2 4 7 , Kurz, Darstellungsformen

menschlicher Bewegung 6 0 ,

7 2 ; Faesi in A m e i s - H . ad loc. 9

Cf. a b o v e 1 1 8 .

10

Cf. Β 2 7 9 f . referred to by Kurz, 6 0 - 7 2 .

11

L o h m a n n , Komposition der Reden 76 n. 3 3 .

12

L o h m a n n , loc.at, and r e f e r e n c e to I 3 7 3 .

13

Cf. Lesky, ' M o t i v a t i o n ' 4 0 ff. o n the responsibility of A g a m e m n o n (although h e is

n o t y e t 'wieder der seiner W ü r d e b e w u s s t e König'); Noe, Μ . , Phoinix 3 5 maintains the opposite, w r o n g l y ; cf. the criticism o f M o t z k u s , Untersuchungen

zum neunten Buch 4 3 and

his r e f e r e n c e s . 14

L o h m a n n , Komposition der Reden 76

'Kommando-Übergabe'.

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This complete disclaimer of honour is followed by a mention of gifts, now offered to Achilles by Agamemnon in person. Agamemnon's supplication is complete, at last. The supplication made by Odysseus, Phoenix and Ajax to Achilles on behalf of themselves and the other Achaeans is very different from the one made by them on Agamemnon's behalf. Their own relationship to Achilles is fundamentally dissimilar. They have done him no hurt, but are among his dearest friends. When they arrive Achilles welcomes them as 'friends', as his best friends (I 197 f.). A meal is immediately prepared, and they all partake. This common meal confirms the solidarity which is theirs as friends; 15 and when Achilles says, 'the dearest friends are under my roof' (204), the motif of 'guestfriendship' or 'hospitality' with all its implications is sounded in addition. Thus, complete solidarity is established between the ambassadors and Achilles. Odysseus opens his speech by saying: 'Your health, Achilleus. W e have n o lack of an equal portion either within the shelter of Atreus' son, A g a m e m n o n , n o r here n o w in y o u r own.' (I 225-7, after Latt.) 16

This is a politic statement of the position that Odysseus and the other ambassadors by sharing meals with both Achilles and Agamemnon confirm their solidarity with the social group of each of them. They are indeed in the best possible position to mediate. After this preamble, Odysseus addressing Achilles once again with urgency, 17 describes his fears (230. 244), the utter helplessness of the Achaeans and their complete dependence on Achilles' succour (I 229 ff.). He concludes this part with a plea for help before it is too late (247-51). Odysseus as friend and fellow-banqueter does not physically abase himself, but his words display the humility of a true suppliant. The long central portion of the speech is concerned with the quarrel issue. Odysseus reminds Achilles of the parting words of his father Peleus: .. be it y o u r s to hold fast in y o u r b o s o m the anger of the p r o u d heart, for consideration ( φ ι λ ο φ ρ ο σ ύ ν η ) is better. Keep f r o m the bad complication of quarrel, and all the m o r e for this the Argives will h o n o u r y o u , both their y o u n g e r m e n and their elders.' (I 255-8, tr. Latt.) 15

Cf. Gould, 'Hiketeia' 79 and n. 35; cf. Adkins ' "Friendship" and "Self-Sufficiency" in H o m e r and Aristotle', 36: ' φ ι λ ε ΐ ν is to bring a person within (or if h e is already a φίλ ο ς , to continue him within) a circle of cooperation w h o s e m e m b e r s have a right to feel mutual reliance, a n d a right to whatever basic necessities are available for consumption.' 16 Cf. Willcock, Companion to the Iliad 101, ad loc.' we have n o lack of good things to feast on'; Ameis-H. έσμέν. Lattimore's 'you have n o lack of y o u r equal portion' is surely a slip. 17 Cf. Ameis-H. on I 300.

130

The key ideas are anger which leads to strife as opposed to a 'mind for friendship', 18 a willingness to cooperate. This is, as the father knows, the son's permanent problem. After this reminder, Odysseus enumerates Agamemnon's gifts. In the conclusion (300 ff.), Odysseus separates Achilles' relation to Agamemnon from his relation to 'all the other Achaeans', and begs for pity (302) for the Achaeans in their need, holding out to him honour from them and the fame of killing mad, challenging Hector. In the speech of Phoenix, the poet takes for his starting-ground the advice of Peleus to his son in Odysseus' speech. As Phoenix says, Peleus had sent him with Achilles to Troy 'to teach him all these things to be a speaker of words and a performer of deeds' (I 442 f.). Furthermore, Phoenix having fled from his own kin had been accepted and cared for by Peleus as if he were his only son (481 f.); and Phoenix in his turn, being childless, had cared for young Achilles, and made him his own son (494 f.). The urgency of supplication is here intensified even beyond the claims of 'friendship'. It is a plea as from a father to his son, which matches the 'spiritual' kinship 19 inherent in an accepted supplication which is here requested. It is on the basis of such close personal relationship that Phoenix warns Achilles in the Litai-passage - which lifts the argument to a higher, divine level - and in the subsequent story of Meleager. Ajax, in addressing Odysseus and not Achilles, for the moment accepts the breach on which Achilles has insisted. He points out that it is a breach of friendship: 'he is hard, and does not r e m e m b e r that friends' affection (φιλότης) wherein we h o n o u r e d him by the ships, far beyond others.' (I 630 f., tr. Latt.)

By comparing the grievance of Achilles with the slaying of a brother or a child, a breach which can be healed by paying a penalty, he points to the excess in Achilles' intransigence. Finally, he turns to Achilles and begs that he be gracious and 'respect his own roof' (640, cf. 204), reminding him of the mutuality of claims between guestfriends. 20 The two institutions of 'supplication' (ίκετεία) and 'guestfriendship' (ξενία) are closely parallel in the ceremonial actions expected from the suppliant and the stranger who becomes a guest, and the host of either. According to Gould, 21 'The explanation lies in the f a c t . . . that both ίκετεία and ξενία are social institutions which permit the acceptance of the outsider within the group . . . , and that in the institutions of this

18 19 20 21

Cf. Adkins, '"Friendship" and "Self-Shufficiency" 3 6 f . Gould, 'Hiketeia' 93. Cf. M o t z k u s , Untersuchungen zum 9. Buch 58 and 60. Gould, 93.

131

class . . . the ideas of exchange and reciprocity of relationship are dominant.' To sum up the matter of the suppliants, the supplication of Agamemnon in Book I is inadequate, and therefore in no way compelling for Achilles. But the supplication of the ambassadors is duly humble. It is strengthened by close personal ties and by the claims of guestfriendship. In conjunction with the gifts offered by Agamemnon, it ought to have been accepted by Achilles, as Phoenix says (I 515-23). To turn to Achilles himself, it is the business of the man truly supplicated to confer upon the suppliant the honour which he has disclaimed in his supplication, that is, he must raise him up out of his helplessness and make him a peer at his side.22 In terms of the Litai-passage, he must have reverence for the goddesses of supplication. The poet represents Achilles in three scenes in each of which his unceasing wrath against Agamemnon spells death to his friends. The first is the fullest, the Embassy where he rejects the supplication. The second is the scene in which he sends Patroclus to Nestor which 'was the beginning of evil for him' (A 604). In the third scene, he sends Patroclus into the battle which culminates in his death. In Book I, replying to Odysseus Achilles rejects both the plea on behalf of Agamemnon and the plea on behalf of the Achaeans: he will be persuaded neither by Agamemnon nor by the other Achaeans (315 f.). In so far as Achilles' relation to Agamemnon is concerned, he has every right to reject the supplication of the Embassy, because Agamemnon is not truly suppliant, as we have seen.23 The best advice Achilles can give to the Achaeans is to sail home (417 ff.) or find some other way to safety for ships and men (421 ff.). The solidarity between Achilles and the ambassadors which rested on previous friendship and has been confirmed by a common meal is broken up: Achilles is not willing to give his friends the help to which as 'friends' (φίλοι) they have a claim.24 In reply to Phoenix, Achilles demands that he choose between Agamemnon and himself. If he befriends Agamemnon, he may become an enemy to Achilles who is his friend (I 614).25 Achilles has no thought for his other 'friends' in the Embassy. In response to Ajax' claim in the name of friendship and guestfriendship, Achilles acknowledges these to be justified and right. But his anger against Agamemnon prevents him from fulfilling it.26 From this point on, his anger is no longer justified. When he concedes that he will not go home, and yet insists that he will not con-

22 23 24 25 16

132

Gould, 78 ff. Cf. above 1 2 6 f. Cf. above n. 21. Lesky, 'Zur Eingangsszene der Patroklie' 77. Lesky, 'Motivation'. 14.

sider fighting until Hector sets fire to the ships, his unrelenting stance though mitigated is preserved, while a change is possible. In Book A, Achilles watches the fighting. He no longer sits waiting in his cabin playing the lyre. But standing on the high ship's stern to see whether his vengeance is prospering he says to Patroclus: 'now I think the Achaians will come to my knees 27 and stay there in supplication, for a need past endurance has come to them.' (Λ 609 f., tr. Latt.)

What he wants in his grim truculence is to see the Achaeans - Agamemnon or the other Achaeans or both, he does not distinguish - abasing themselves in the suppliant's ritual gesture of touching or embracing his knees. Only terrible suffering would bring them to this point. By sending Patroclus to Nestor Achilles wants to find out how serious the situation is. 28 Achilles is given a second chance of accepting the supplication of the Achaeans when Patroclus weeping entreats him, his dearest friend (Π 1 ff.). 29 Evading the salient issue by irrelevant questions about news of Patroclus' and his own father, he comes reluctantly to the necessary question whether Patroclus is perchance grieving for the Achaeans dying by the ships 'on account of their transgression' (Π 18). 30 Again, Achilles refuses to distinguish between Agamemnon, the transgressor, and the Achaean warriors who die for his transgression, but are Achilles' friends. Again he repeats the painful detail of Agamemnon dishonouring him (52 ff.). In the end he checks his wrath to the extent that he accepts Patroclus' plea that he might go into battle in Achilles' stead, in Achilles' armour. But he also glories in the victorious advance of the Trojans, so easily stopped if Agamemnon treated him 'kindly' (73). 31 27 Benveniste, Indo-European Language and Society 507: ικέτης is an agent noun related to ΐκω, and means 'the one who reaches or arrives at the knees as a suppliant'. Schadewaldt, Iliasst. 81 eliminates any supposed contradiction between these words and the Embassy by saying that 'the Achaeans have not in Book I implored Achilles kniefällig, 'on their knees', but have offered him a settlement'. The argument is convincing. But the 'knees' are those of Achilles to be touched by the suppliant who has lowered his body in whatever position. 28 Lesky, 'Zur Eingangsszene der Patroklie' 74: the question about Machaon is no more than a 'Hilfsmotiv'. 2 9 Nagy, The Best of the Achaeans 105 Patroclus stands highest in the rank of affinity and aff inity and affection, as Kleopatra does in the Meleager-story. Cf. above 109 and n. 20. 3 0 Cf. Lesky, 'Zur Eingangsszene der Patroklie' on the whole passage. On ήγε 78; one might even translate 'surely you are n o t . . .' (oder etwa gar). 31 The words 'if he treated me kindly' (ήπια είδείη Π 73), lit. 'if he knew kind things towards me', must not be taken to refer to the handing over of gifts and Briseis which have already been offered. They refer to an attitude of heart and mind which is open to reconciliation (cf. Δ 359 ff. υ 327), an attitude which Agamemnon has certainly not so far evinced.

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What Achilles desires are the winning words of a truly suppliant Agamemnon, together with the gifts already offered (86). But Patroclus must do no more than save the ships and with the ships the return home. Or else he would diminish the honour of Achilles, and risk his own life. Let the Achaeans go on fighting on the plain. An outburst of rage and merciless hatred concludes the speech: Achilles wishes that none of the Trojans should escape from death, and none of the Achaeans, only he himself and Patroclus, to be the conquerors of Troy. At this point, Hector sets an Achaean ship on fire (Π 112 ff.): a limit has been reached. Zeus had determined that at the sight of an Achaean ship burning he would turn back the battle from the ships and give glory to the Achaeans having then fulfilled his promise to the suppliant Thetis completely (O 597ff.). 3 2 Achilles' reply to Ajax (I 650ff.) had been that he would not think of fighting again until Hector advanced to the cabins and ships of the Myrmidons and set fire to the ships. In his answer to Patroclus' pleading he had referred back to that decision (Π 61 ff.). Since his own ships and cabins are not yet in danger, he in his stubborn wrath determines to send Patroclus instead of going himself. Then the ship's stern blazes up (Π 124). Patroclus has not yet put on Achilles' armour. Achilles himself could have armed and led the Zeuswilled advance on Troy himself. Instead, in great anxiety, 33 he urges on Patroclus, realizing the impossibility of flight once the ships are burned. 34 In his incapacity to bend Achilles has missed his last chance of responding himself to the cry for help of the dying Achaeans. Before Patroclus and his men leave, Achilles prays to Zeus repeating the words of Chryses in the prelude, when his daughter had been restored to him (Π 2 3 6 - 8 = A 453-5): 'As you have once already (schon einmal) listened to my word of prayer honouring me, and have severely smitten the people of the Achaeans, so, once again (noch einmal) now too (auch jetzt) fulfill for me this wish.' (Π 236 ff., my tr., following the commentary of Ameis-H.)

The 'smiting of the Achaeans' to which Chryses had referred was the plague sent upon the Achaeans by Apollo; what Achilles refers to is the threefold defeat of the Achaeans which has just reached its culmination in the burning ship. The new wish that Chryses had uttered in prayer to Apollo was to terminate the plague there and then (A 456); and the god granted his desire. But Achilles goes on to say: Ί myself will stay in the

Cf. above 122f. Cf. Onians, Origins of European Thought 183 f. 34 The ships of Achilles are at the opposite end of the ships camp from the ship of Protesilaos which is set on fire and that of Ajax (Λ 6ff.; Ν 681). However, the blaze of one ship on fire, if not checked immediately, would soon spread to the whole fleet, close packed as the ships are Ξ 30 ff. 32 33

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ships' camp but I am sending my friend, in the midst of many Myrmidons, to fight' (239 f.). He is still not ready to forego further vengeance. He then prays that Zeus give success and glory to Patroclus, and bring him home safely once he has chased the Trojans away from the ships. Zeus grants the first, but refuses the second wish. Achilles is now in the position of Agamemnon in the first sequence when he had rejected the supplication of Chryses. The god's wrath will descend upon Achilles by slaying Patroclus. When the moment comes that Patroclus should have heeded Achilles' command to turn back, he goes on pursuing the Trojans and Lycians (Π 684 ff.). He is 'totally blind, the fool' (άάσθη, 685). If he had obeyed Achilles, he would have escaped from death, 'but the mind of Zeus is ever stronger than that of men' (688), in this case, stronger than the mind of Achilles who had forbidden Patroclus to advance against Troy, perhaps also stronger than the mind of Patroclus who might have been willing to obey his friend. 35 Once again, when under the walls of Troy Apollo strikes him and smashes his armour, 'Blind Madness seized his mind' (άτη, 805), his limbs gave way, and he stood in terror. It is Zeus and Apollo that overwhelm Patroclus before ever he is struck by the spears of Euphorbus and Hector. According to the plea of the goddesses of supplication to Zeus (I 512), Blind Madness 'follows' Achilles, and it does so by attacking his 'substitute', his beloved friend Patroclus. Inclined to think in terms of psychological motivation rather than in terms of a meaningful sequence of external events we look for this madness in Achilles himself. 36 But there is nothing of the kind in the poet's description. On the contrary, Achilles is lucidly aware of the possibility of danger to the life of Patroclus, and warns him accordingly. The death of Patroclus is the punishment (I 512) 37 which Zeus inflicts upon

3 5 For the relationship between the ά τ η of Patroclus and the mind of Zeus cf. Lesky, 'Motivation' 22. 3 6 Motzkus, Untersuchungen zum 9. Buch 44 n. 4 speaks of the death of Patroclus as arising out of the Verblendung of Achilles with which he is affected because of his intransigence (Motzkus' reference to Lesky, 'Motivation' 22 seems mistaken). But cf. Griffin, Homer on Life chap. I on 'Symbolic Scenes and Significant Objects', passim; cf. 65 a very sane and balanced account of when 'to interpret the passages in the light of the psychology of human beings'. 37 Heubeck, Odyssee-Dichter 79 (. acknowledges that in the Litai-passage the death of Patroclus is conceived as the divine punishment for Achilles because of his hard-heartedness and intransigence. But he maintains that this is no more than a general reflection on Phoinix's part, and only applicable to Achilles in a limited way. Heubeck believes that Achilles is acting in full agreement with Zeus' decision in Book A (i. e. his promise to Thetis) when he rejects the Embassy in Book I. Heubeck overlooks the fact that the Litai-passage is a warning and that Zeus considers his promise to Thetis fulfilled in Book Π, and after this point turns against Achilles so that Patroclus is killed. Heubeck 76 believes that the άτη overwhelming Patroclus is Patroclus' own in conse-

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Achilles for rejecting the supplications of the Embassy and of Patroclus, just as Apollo avenged Agamemnon's rejection of the supplication of Chryses by sending the plague. Faced with the death of Patroclus Achilles recognizes at last that he has failed both his best friend Patroclus and the other Achaeans who are also his friends: . . I was no light of safety to Patroklos, nor to my other companions, who in their numbers went down before glorious Hektor' (Σ 102f., tr. Latt.)

Chastened he no longer dwells on the dishonour done to him by Agamemnon, but wishes that strife should perish from among men and gods, and anger, which is sweeter than honey and spreads like smoke. Then, curbing his anger in his heart by necessity (113), he is ready to join the fighting in order to avenge Patroclus on Hector. Thetis agrees gently, not with his desire for vengeance, nor his will to inflict sorrow on the Trojan women, but with his sense of having failed his friends and with his decision to help them now (Σ 128 f.). When Achilles resigns his wrath against Agamemnon, reenters battle, and in the fury of hatred kills Hector, he not only fulfills his obligation to Patroclus in avenging his death, but he also at last accepts the supplications of the Achaean ambassadors and the plea of Patroclus. The pattern is complete in relation to Achilles' friends. But what about his personal enemy? What about Agamemnon? Will Achilles accept his self-abasement in the assembly and be reconciled? His anger is barely subdued. 38 He wants to fight immediately. But Odysseus, as in the Embassy, works towards a full reconciliation. This is the meaning of all the emphasis on a common meal. 39 Odysseus' first speech (T 155 f.) moves diplomatically towards that end. He urges Achilles to order the Achaeans to have a meal, giving full reasons for the necessity not to begin a day's fighting without food (155-71). Next he insists that Agamemnon bring the gifts at once and swear the promised oath not to have touched Briseis. He concludes this proposal with the request to Achilles: 'And by this let the spirit in your own heart be made gracious.' (T 178, tr. Latt.)

Odysseus here pleads for a full response on Achilles' part to the supplication of Agamemnon. The second plea follows immediately: 'After that in his own shelter let him appease you with a generous meal, so you will lack nothing of what is due you' (δίκης) (Τ 179 f., tr. Latt.) quence of his ϋβρις in not obeying Achilles' command not to advance towards Troy. There is no clue in the text for this interpretation. 3 8 Cf. Ameis-H. on τ 147 f. who refers to 66. 3 9 Cf. Griffin, Homer on Life 15 f. and note 37.

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A common meal, a meal shared by Achilles and Agamemnon would have been the final restitution of Agamemnon and Achilles to honour and to the society of their peers. Odysseus reinforces his plea by turning to Agamemnon and humbling him further: 'And you, son of Atreus, after this be more righteous (δικαιότερος) to another man. For there is no fault when even one w h o is a king appeases a man, when the king was the first one to be angry.' (T 181 ff„ tr. Latt.)40

Agamemnon humbly accepts Odysseus' admonition, and is ready to do all Odysseus has proposed. But Achilles would still like to drive the Achaeans into battle immediately and feast after the fighting (205 ff.). He himself will certainly not eat before the battle. Once more, Odysseus tries to persuade Achilles, and then, without waiting for a reply, has the gifts brought, and Agamemnon swears the promised oath. Then at last, Achilles gives in, but only in part. He accepts (270) Agamemnon's explanation of his blind madness being caused by Zeus (87 ff.), and gives orders for a meal for the army before battle. But when the Achaean elders beg him to eat himself, he in his grief continues to refuse (303 ff.). He is eventually fed with nectar by Athena at Zeus' command (340 ff.).41 A common meal is still postponed. When Achilles has killed Hector, lamented Patroclus with his Myrmidons and given them a funeral feast (Ψ 29), the Achaean leaders take Achilles to Agamemnon. Achilles in his grief still refuses to wash off the grime of battle, but he is now ready to 'yield to the hateful feast' (48): he will share a meal with Agamemnon, but still without grace.42 He returns however the command of affairs to Agamemnon when he asks him to order the men at dawn to collect wood for the pyre of Patroclus. Complete reconciliation is only achieved at the end of the funeral games. Agamemnon and Meriones rise to compete in the final contest, in spearthrowing. Achilles anticipates the result by acknowledging Agamemnon's superiority in that craft of battle, and with gracious words (Ψ 894) offers him the victor's prize, which Agamemnon accepts. Here Achilles comes to meet Agamemnon in a way which goes further than sharing a meal with him: he lifts him up to the rank of the great fighters among whom Achilles is acknowledged to be the greatest. The honour of both heroes is fully restored. Why does the Iliad not end at this point? Achilles' anger against Agamemnon is quelled. He has been punished for failing to accept the supplications for help from his friends by the death of Patroclus, and he has paid his debt of vengeance to Patroclus by killing Hector. But once again Achilles is not in control of his passion, in fact, he never has been, 40 41 42

Cf. above chap. 8 n. 16. Cf. Achilles urging Priam to take a meal with him in spite of his grief Ω 599 ff. Griffin, Homer on Life. 16.

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so far. His wrath against Agamemnon has not been controlled, but only overpowered by his greater wrath against Hector. This wrath is less vicious, because it does not turn against his own people, but against the common enemy. But it again goes too far. The issue of the last part of the poem is whether the body of Hector is to be returned to his people or not. This issue has been foreshadowed much earlier in the poem, before Hector's duel with Ajax, as we have seen. 43 The final supplication in the Iliad is that of Priam pleading with Achilles for the body of his son. It has been prepared for in a threefold rising sequence of Trojans supplicating Achilles in battle. The Trojans are Tros in the first battle-scene after Achilles' return at the end of canto 5 (Y 463 ff.), in canto 6 Lycaon in the battle by the river (Φ 64 ff.), and Hector when he lies dying before the triumphant Achilles (X 338 f.). In no case does the suppliant succeed in touching or holding on to the knees or chin of Achilles so that his rejection of each one however grim does not violate the awsome bond established between suppliant and supplicated by that physical contact.44 Tros, fifth in a series of ten victims of Achilles 'came towards the knees' (Y 463) of Achilles hoping that he might be spared out of pity for his youth. In his folly he did not know that he was not going to persuade him. For, Achilles was not a sweet-tempered man, nor gentle of heart, but full of fury. Tros 'tried to touch' 45 his knees with his hands wanting to supplicate him, but Achilles anticipated him by striking him with his sword, and he died. In Achilles' encounter with Lycaon, everything is more elaborate and more intense. Lycaon had, in the past, experienced the mercy of Achilles who caught him, but granted him life by selling him abroad from where Lycaon had only recently returned to Troy (Φ 35 ff.). Achilles recognizes him (49. 54 ff.) and grimly determines to kill him this time so that he cannot come back once again. But Lycaon anticipates him. As Achilles lifts his spear to strike him down, he runs through underneath and seizes Achilles' knees (68) so that the spear strikes the earth behind him. The young man thus with one hand seizes the knees of Achilles and supplicates him, with the other he holds on to the spear and does not let go. Both gestures should prevent Achilles 43

Cf. above 67 f. Cf. Gould, 'Hiketeia' 77. 45 ήπτετο Y 468 is imperfect de conatu. Cf. Lattimore 'Tros with his hands was reaching for the knees, bent on supplication, b u t . . . ' . Gould 81 'as he is in the act of touching his knees' is perhaps ambiguous, but Gould points to the tense of ήπτετο. Griffin, Homer on Life 54 'as he touches them, Achilles stabs him' is not exact enough. It leads to the strange remark 'with Tros the hero does not bother to take any notice of his gesture'. On the contrary, Achilles strikes him so that the binding physical contact cannot take place. 44

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from killing Lycaon. His words of supplication are equally strong as he invokes those human qualities of spirit which are at the heart of accepting a supplication, namely 'reverence' (αίδώς) and 'pity' (έλεος, 74).46 He also reminds Achilles of the meal shared between them when Achilles first took him prisoner, which established the bond of guestfriendship between them. The brief story of his life and that of his brother Polydorus, already killed by Achilles (Y 407 ff.) reveals that he is a son of Priam but not from Hecuba so that he pleads finally: 'Do not kill me. I am not from the same womb as Hektor, he who killed your powerful and kindly companion.' (Φ 95 f., tr. Latt.)

With these words Lycaon touches the grief which is the spring of Achilles' boundless rage. Achilles rejects his offer of ransom and his speech: before the death of Patroclus he did spare his prisoners - he then was 'sweet-tempered' and 'gentle of heart' (Y 467) - but now all Trojans must die, and most of all the sons of Priam. Then suddenly Achilles calls Lycaon 'friend', member of a peer-group, of equal status with Achilles; and the condition is that he die. For Patroclus is dead, and mighty Achilles will soon be dead. In response to the young man's supplication, Achilles calls him into community with himself which is a community, not of life, but of death. Lycaon understands and complies. When he lets go of the spear and the 'knees' in spreading out his arms he gives up his claim to life, and accepts death willingly, and Achilles kills him. In the supplication of Hector, the poet enters even more deeply into the matter of death. Hector supplicates Achilles while his strength is ebbing away. Having fallen to the ground he cannot touch Achilles' knees or chin, but his posture is one of utter submission. He begs Achilles by his life, his knees, and his parents not to leave his body to be eaten by the dogs, but to return it to the Trojans for ransom so that it may be burned by his own people. In replying, Achilles pursues the dying man beyond his death. He wishes he could eat his flesh raw in return for what Hector has done. No ransom however great will persuade him to save Hector's body from dogs and birds. This means that Hector's ghost will never be allowed to enter the region of the dead and so come to rest.47 Achilles' rejection of Hector's supplication could not be more savage. On the other hand, when Hector dying threatens him with the wrath of the gods on the day of his own death through Paris and Apollo, he is calmly prepared to accept his own end whenever Zeus wills it. But he will not enter into a community of the dead together with Hector, as he did with Lycaon. Hector remains his enemy even in death, and he drags his body behind his chariot. 46 47

Cf. above 119 and n. 28. Cf. Griffin, 47.

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The three supplications to Achilles rise from a plea for life, interrupted by a violent death before the ritual gesture could be made, to a ritual supplication for life which is voluntarily relinquished under the pressure of the community of those dead or soon to die, and finally to a dying man's plea for burial of his corpse to be pursued by violence beyond death by a man who will die soon. At the beginning of the last book, Achilles in his unremitting rage against Hector continues to illtreat his body, and goes to excess. When he planned 'acts of humiliation' on Hector's body 4 8 and dragged it across the Trojan plain tied to his chariot, 'Zeus had at that time given him to his enemies to humiliate in his own country' (X 403 f.). The excess begins when that is not the end. Achilles drags the body of his enemy through the dust behind his chariot round and round the tomb of Patroclus and then leaves him lying face down. He is 'mad' with grief (Ω 12). On the twelfth day, the gods pitying Hector propose that Hermes should steal the body (23 f.), but Hera, Poseidon, and Athena, the pro-Achaean divinities object. Apollo censures Achilles for lack of mercy and reverence, Hera defends him as the son of a goddess. All the old divisions are rife again. Finally, Zeus steps in. He sends Thetis to her son with this message: 'He says that the gods frown upon you, that beyond all other immortals he himself is angered that in your heart's madness you hold Hector beside the curved ships and did not redeem him. Come, then, give him up and accept ransom for the body.' (Ω 134 ff., tr. Latt.)

Achilles replies without hesitation: 'So be it. He can bring ransom and take off the body, if the Olympian himself so urgently bids it.' (Ω 139 f., tr. Latt.)

This is a command from the highest god, and 'a man confronting a god is helpless and can do nothing but obey', as Griffin has shown. 49 Zeus also sends Iris to Priam with the command to ransom Hector and take gifts to Achilles (143 ff.). He obeys. It is only the anxiety of Hecuba

Cf. Griffin, 85 and n. 9 ; cf. Bassett. Poetry 205. Cf. Griffin, 157 and all through the chapter on 'Gods and Goddesses'. - I doubt whether 'Zeus is giving Achilles the chance to do the right thing of his own accord', as Willcock says, Companion to the Iliad 268, on Ω 110 though he is probably right on A 207: Athena persuades rather than commands. - τόδε κΟδος Ω 110, is translated by Lattimore 'the honour that he has' which is accepted by Willcock. Leaf and Bayfield: ' "this (the following) honour", viz. the reception of gifts in return for the body, instead of having to yield it without ransom' or, I should say, having it stolen by Hermes. The honour may consist not only in the gifts of ransom, but also in grantig mercy to the suppliant (cf. I 256-8). Ameis-H. on τόδε 'i. e. den hierbei zu gewinnenden Ruhm, freiwillig die Leiche herauszugeben'. I should want to qualify 'freiwillig' as 'in willing obedience'. 48

49

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that causes him to ask for a propitious sign from Zeus, and the god grants it (31 Off.). Priam supplicates Achilles with all the gestures and words of the full ritual, however hard it is for him to kiss the 'terrible, man-slaughtering hands of Achilles that had killed so many of his sons' (478 f.), and Achilles accepts the old man's supplication, however hard it is for him to control his wrath, but he will, because his mother came with a message from Zeus, and Priam could not have come into Achilles' cabin without the help of a god (560 ff.). Achilles goes to have Hector's body cleansed and dressed and laid on Priam's wagon to be taken to Troy. In this final supplication, Zeus, father of the Supplications, acts himself, in his own person, both instigating the action and determining its acceptance. The power of this sacred institution which is inescapable, if its ritual gestures including physical contact with the knees of the supplicated man are accompanied by humble pleading and gifts, is revealed completely by Zeus himself commanding its performance. 50 The blessing of the Litai (I 509) for Achilles is that he, at last, by willing obedience to Zeus is able to control his wrath and to grant mercy. In the Embassy, Achilles is a man divided against himself. He acknowledges that Ajax' plea in the name of 'hospitality' and 'friendship' is justified. But he is incapable of acting according to his own judgement, because he is a slave to his passion, and remains so until Zeus turns against him and causes the death of Patroclus; and it is only the direct intervention of the god himself in Book Ω that releases him from the bondage of another wrath and makes him into a man who 'will in all kindness spare one who comes to him as a suppliant' (Ω 187). The theme of the Iliad is then the wrath of Achilles and how it is counteracted by 'supplication'. Having reached this understanding, we will now restate the 'plan' of the Iliad on a deeper level. I (Α-Δ)

Prelude: Agamemnon rejects a 'supplication', is punished by Apollo, and forced to yield. In anger he quarrels with Achilles and dishonours him. Achilles in anger withdraws from fighting. At his request, his mother Thetis supplicates Zeus to defeat the Achaeans in order to honour Achilles. Zeus 'nods' acceptance of her supplication which means promise of victory of the Trojans. The battle is renewed.

II ( Ε - Θ ) First movement of Achaean success led by Diomedes, and retreat: loss of control over the Trojan plain. Hector's death foreshadowed in Trojan scenes and in duel with Ajax. 5 0 Ehrenberg, Rechtsidee 5 0 : 'Nicht die soziale Gemeinschaft, sondern das Religiöse verleiht den Urnormen Kraft und Rückhalt und gibt so dem triebhaften Gemeinschaftswillen des Menschen die Bewusstseinsgrundlage. Aus der Unterwerfung unter die gemeinsame göttliche Autorität erwächst der Gehorsam gegen einen Willen der Gemeinschaft.'

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III (I-M) Second movement of Achaean success led by Agamemnon, and further retreat: loss of the Achaean Wall breached by Hector. First moves towards a future reconciliation: Agamemnon sends Embassy to supplicate Achilles to return to the fighting; Achilles rejects the supplication. He, in turn, sends Patroclus to Nestor. IV (Ν-Π) Third movement of Achaean success led by the two Ajaxes and Idomeneus, and still further retreat: losses consisting in danger to the ships, one ship burned which means complete fulfillment of Zeus' promise. Achilles, still refusing to accept the Embassy's supplication now reinforced by Patroclus, is punished by Zeus through Patroclus being killed by Hector. V(P-Y) Faced with the long-fought-for body of Patroclus, Achilles' anger against Agamemnon is overborne by his anger against Hector so that he renounces his anger against Agamemnon, and reenters battle. VI (Φ-Ω) In a duel, which follows as the climax on the fighting by the river and the battle of the gods, Achilles kills Hector. In unabating anger Achilles illtreats Hector's body. Then, Zeus initiates a supplication by Priam for the body of his son, and commands Achilles to accept that supplication, which he does, so that his anger is overcome.

To sum up, the theme of the Iliad developed in its plot step by step is the wrath of Achilles, greatest fighter before Troy, and that means, more capable than any other man of bursts of towering rage. Achilles' wrath is justified at first and supported by Zeus. But it becomes wrong when he rejects the supplication of the Achaeans, his friends, and persists in this rejection even in the face of the pleas of Patroclus, his dearest friend. Then Zeus turns against him: the death of Patroclus breaks the force of his wrath, and lets Achilles recognize his wrongdoing. His new wrath, - now not directed against his own people, but against the common enemy - is a wrath demanding vengeance for his friend's death. In the context of Homeric warrior-ethics it is just and even obligatory, until once again it goes too far. It is finally brought under control by Priam's supplication instigated by Zeus. The theme of the Iliad is, then, ethical, as that of the Odyssey. But it is more complex, because it is worked out within the spirit of one man, not between two parties, one villainous, the other just. The poem's fundamental injunction is the same as the famous proverb μηδέν ά γ α ν 'nothing to excess', which towards the end of the classical period of Greece is crystallized in the ethics of Aristotle. But in the Iliad, it is still seen in the context of the devastating passion of heroic warriors.

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Some reflections in conclusion In his Poetics ( 1 4 5 5 b ) Aristotle describes the working-method of both the tragic and the epic poet. The poet's work proceeds in two phases, according to Nickau 1 whom I follow closely. He must first make a 'general exposition' of his λόγος, that is the 'structural formula of the story' or the 'rationale' of if. 2 To put it less abstractly, he must lay down the line of his tale as a generally human complex of events. The λόγος of the Odyssey, for instance, according to Aristotle, runs like this: 'Thus the actual argument of the Odyssey is not long: A certain man has been away from home for many years, being kept from returning by a god (MSS Poseidon), and is alone. Further, things at home are in such a state that his property is being eaten up by suitors and an ambush is laid against his son. He himself arrives home after a series of hardships, and having recognized certain people mounts his attack, himself survives, and destroys his enemies. This is the core (ίδιον) of the poem; the rest is έπεισόδια (Aristotle, Poetics 1 4 5 5 b 1 6 ff., tr. Else, p. 4 9 ) . Whether the poet's story is a traditional one or newly fashioned by himself, he must take this step first, obviously in order to produce a coherent unified action. The second step in the poet's work is 'the individual shaping of the chosen story-material according to the generally designed plan', the preconditions being the giving of names to the characters in the general plan.3 This is done by introducing έπεισόδια. 4 The decisive achievement of Nickau's interpretation of the meaning of έπεισόδιον is that it is not 'a non-essential added scene', 5 but an integral portion of the poem which is, on the one hand, the carrier of a specific function in the dramatic action, on the other, expressive of the individual features of the particular story chosen by the poet. Aristotle did not, then, hold that the Homeric epics are loosely constructed and full of irrelevant matter however delightful. 6 In his view, everything serves the dramatic functioning of the whole and the characNickau, 'Epeisodion', see bibliography. Nickau, 160 and n. 23. 3 Nickau, 161. - The only difference that Aristotle sees between tragedy and epic is a matter of length: 'In plays, the έπεισόδια are brief, but epic poetry achieves through them its length' 1455 b 1 5 - 1 6 . 4 έπεισοδιοΟν 1455 b 2. 5 Nickau 156, quotation from Else, Aristotle's Poetics 182 n. 199; 326 n. 85 etc. 6 Cf. above chap. 3 n. 6 ; cf. Bassett, Poetry 207 ff., esp. 219. 1

2

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terisation needed for the individual detailed working-out of the λόγος. This is precisely the picture of the Iliad to which everything in this book points. What is more, it might be said that mutatis mutandis Homer himself has used the method proposed by Aristotle. For, the Litai-passage is a 'general' statement of the story-content, the λόγος in fact of the Iliad. We have seen in the third part of this book how this λόγος has been stated, and worked out in the particular actions and sufferings of individual, 'named' characters. Our second form of the 'plan' of the Iliad shows the poet's organisation of his detailed execution of this λόγος over the whole of his poem. It is astonishing that Homer's oral singing of the Iliad and Aristotle's philosophically grounded analysis of epic and tragedy should be so similar. They are also, obviously, very different in that Aristotle states the factual actions of the Odyssey, while Homer concentrates on the religious and ethical connections of the events in the Iliad. Finally, if then the basic, 'general' subject of the Iliad is the control of a great warrior's wrath by the 'institution' of supplication, can we see any reason for Homer's choice of this subject? Perhaps it is possible today to suggest what may have influenced the poet, within the particular historical situation of East Greece in the eighth century B. C. The climate of the eighth century was particularly favourable for heroic epic. According to Snodgrass, 7 'the eighth century witnessed the outbreak of a sort of ancestral yearning in Greece, of which the desire to establish a link with heroic ancestors long since dead, and the more practical attempt to reinforce the hereditary principle there and then by reviving the family grave-plot, if not the family vault, are both signs'. Furthermore, 8 'since the revival of interest in the Bronze Age, as shown by the evidence of the cults at Mycenaean graves and the consecration of former Mycenaean sites as sanctuaries, seems in some cases to begin before the Homeric poems can possibly have been diffused, we should most naturally infer that there was first an era of general interest and pride in the heroic age, and later a specific and increasing familiarity with the Homeric epic and the themes that it comprised.' These two facts suggest that a poet of oral epic dealing with some part of Mycenaean-Trojan traditions would be sure of a sympathetic and even keen audience. In addition, in the eighth century B.C. a trend developed towards what Nagy has called 'Pan-hellenism'. 9 The most concrete expression of Snodgrass, The Dark Age of Greece 195. Snodgrass, 431. 9 Nagy, The Best of the Achaeans 7 , 1 1 5 ; I am greatly indebted to Nagy for the idea of a connection between those historical developments and the Homeric epics. But I do not 7

8

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this trend, together with other evidence, is seen in the establishment of the Olympian Games and in the wide contact apparent in the Geometric pottery of Delphi. Again according to Snodgrass, 10 'at Olympia, the traditional date of 776 B. C. for the first celebration of the games, whatever its reliability in absolute terms, is consonant with the sharp increase in the volume of the dedications which must have taken place at roughly that time . . . the evidence of the rich and varied dedications suggests that pilgrims were by now visiting the place from far beyond the confines of Elis.' Similarly, 'the Geometric pottery at Delphi, for example, indicates firm contacts with Corinth, Athens and Thessaly, while the special relationship of that sanctuary with Crete must also begin by the eighth century.' This increase of 'intercommunication' 11 would have a twofold meaning for Homer and his composing of the Iliad. First, a broad canvas of heroes from many different parts of the Greek world would find ready reception anywhere; 12 and secondly, a prized heroic epic would become known quickly all over the Greek world. While all these factors were advantageous for the composition and promulgation of a comprehensive heroic epic, they do not in themselves provide any clue to why Homer might have chosen to sing the Wrath of Achilles and its control. For this, we have to turn to another feature of the eighth century, namely the emergence of the city-state (πόλις). The most concrete evidence for the nature of a πόλις at that time is Old Smyrna. According to Snodgrass, 13 '. . . the decision to fortify the town of Smyrna, and to carry out the project with a higher standard of architectural skill than can be found anywhere else in Greece for generations afterwards, cannot have been taken by a chance confederation of aristocrats and their followers; nor do the carefully-orientated and competently-built homes inside the wall look like the products of any but a corporate enterprise.' Snodgrass adds: 'If it is really true that East Greece led the way in the development of the πόλις, as some historians have long since held, then it must be stressed that neither this, nor even her architectural advances, can be in any way the result of her greater proximity to the Oriental civilizations.' 14 find his execution of the idea satisfactory. - Furthermore, I share Griffin's, 'The epic cycle and the uniqueness of Homer', conviction about the uniqueness of the Iliad and the Odyssey being due to the poet Homer, rather than to 'the lengthy evolution of myriad previous compositions, era to era, into a final composition' (Nagy, 41, 5 f., 78 f.), a belated variant of the earlier 'romantic' conception of oral poetry (cf. Finnegan, Oral Poetry 30 ff.). 10 Snodgrass 421. " Snodgrass 419. 12 Nagy 7 calls the Homeric epic 'Panhellenic'. 13 Snodgrass 4 1 5 f. 14 Troy is a πόλις, but only in a very limited sense, because its life does not depend on the collaboration of a number of noble families, but on obedience to one man, King

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Significant in this context are also the colonies of the eighth century which were 'the work of organized bodies: they might be led by an individual aristocrat, as even the expeditions of the Ionian migration had been, but they were not entirely of his creation; they might sometimes be commercial in purpose, but they were not manned by traders only. They were complete communities . . . In other words, they imply some degree of state organization.' 15 If we consider this evidence about the emergence of the πόλις and about the organized establishment of colonies in the eighth century from the point of view of the quality of human spirit motivating action, we must say that there is here in the Greek world a novel degree of readiness for sustained common action. Each of these two developments implies an increased willingness and capacity to cooperate. 16 But, what is the story of the Iliad if not the tale of a common enterprise of heroes from many parts of Greece which might have ended in complete disaster because of the incapacity of two of the leading heroes, Agamemnon and Achilles, to cooperate? 17 Let me suggest the following: Homer, born and working as a singer in East Greece and in lively contact with the rest of the Greek world 18 witnessed, in his time and place, a movement towards a life-style in which cooperation tended to outweigh the ancient aristocratic ideal of competition for honour. Being aware of the strength of the old tradition he must have realized how precarious any cooperative enterprise was bound to be, how liable to be broken up by the angry feuds of nobles and their families. But there were, as Gould and others have shown, within the texture of early Greek life two institutions sanctioned by Zeus 19 which guarded against the disintegration of the common life: guestfriendship and supplication. The first bound men together in friendship and the obligation of mutual

Priam, who rules both his own extended family and the citizens. In that sense, Troy is little different from Agamemnon's fortified palace at Mycenae. On the other hand, even within this extended family there are tensions felt deriving from potential rivalry between Hector and Aeneas (cf. Ameis-H. on Ν 4 6 0 who compares Y 3 0 6 - 8 ; cf. also Y 179). 15 Snodgrass 417. 16 The fact that the reasons or, at least, the stimuli towards organized colonies may often have been material advantages (cf. Snodgrass 417) makes no difference. The point is that the cooperation was achieved. 17 Lloyd-Jones, The Justice of Zeus 15. 'Even in a heroic society, in which feelings of shame and not feelings of guilt do the main work of morality, the so-called quieter virtues are essential, above all loyalty, without which not even a gang of thieves, let alone an army, can hope to operate successfully.' The Greek for 'loyalty' would be φιλότης. 18 Cf. above 25 f. 19 Cf. chap. 9 n. 50.

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support. The second made it obligatory to forgive an insult once an apology had been made and due compensation had been received. Homer sensitive to the spirit of his age, would share the love of his fellow-men for the glorious heroic feats of the past, achieved in fierce competition, but he would also be aware of the dangers of the old aristocratic belligerence for the new ventures into cooperation. The tension between these two directions of will may well have been the ground from which the basic idea of the Iliad arose in the poet's mind.

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Appendix Ί The meaning of οϊμη (to p. 33)

Within Greek - apart from the question of etymology 1 - the words οϊμη, οίμος, οίμα, and οίμάω form a group. Chantraine 2 says "Du point de vue des Grecs, οιμα 'elan', οίμάω, 's'elancer' doivent etre associes ä οιμος." He also considers the connection between οϊμη and οϊμος 'path', proposed by O. Becker, 'Das Bild des Weges7 as plausible. The occurrences of these words are the following:

Iliad

Odyssey

Λ Χ Χ π φ

24 140 308 752 252

οΐμοι οίμάω οίμάω οίμα οΐμα

ω

538 74 481 347 290

οίμάω

451 9.47

οΐμος άοιδης ) (Ν. Β. τρίβος 448) οιμος έπέων > referring to songs

3

χ Hesiod Opp. (and later) Homeric Hymn to Hermes Pindar, Ol.

οϊμη οιμος

'strip' or 'band' of metal (Achilles as hawk) (Hector as eagle) (Patroclus as lion) (Achilles as eagle; flight from the water of the angry River)

) (

)

(Odysseus as eagle) referring to song 'path'

The three Homeric instances of οίμάω and the two of οιμα refer to the violent motion, plunge, swoop or onrush of a hero compared to an eagle, hawk or lion, mostly in attack, once in flight (Φ 252). Since any 1 Cf. Pagliaro, Saggi di Critica Semantica, on ο ϊ μ η 37, and, basing his work on this, Durante, 'Die Terminologie f ü r das dichterische Schaffen' 277 make etymology the starting-point of their discussions, and omit to take any notice of the existence in H o meric Greek of ο ί μ ά ω and ο ί μ α . 2 Chantraine Didionnaire (.tymologique s. υ. ο ι μ α . 3 Becker, Das Bild des Weges 6 8 f . ; Schadewaldt, Von Homers Welt 7 4 f .

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locomotion implies a track of its course, the word οΐμος in Hesiod's "Εργα fittingly means 'path'. A ready parallel is the word όδός which means both 'road' and 'journey'. It is striking that οΐμος is the path to άρετή which is long, steep and rough, at least to begin with, while the 'path' to evil which is smooth and short (288) is called όδός. The word οΐμος implies more energy and 'attack'. In the phrases οίμος άοιδης and οΐμος έπέων, the 'path' is a metaphor for the 'path' of the poet's song. Becker and Durante 4 have shown that the images of 'path' and 'walking along a path' are frequently used for ordered speech in prose, and for poetry. The Odyssean οϊμη, which occurs three times, in each case refers to song. The context fixes this reference. For ο'ίμη no explanatory genitive is needed to indicate the metaphorical use of the word. It is reasonable to infer that ο'ίμη in itself means 'song-path'. Since οϊμη is either taught by the Muse (-8 481) or emplanted by a god (χ 347) or offers a sequence from which a singer can select an episode (θ 72),5 it is the poet's 'plan' of his epic which he executes vigorously. The meaning of οΐμος in Iliad A 24 as a 'strip' or 'band' of metal on a cuirass connects with the image of a 'path' in Hesiod in a visual way. A path is, in fact, a 'strip' of trodden ground, the difference being that a 'path' implies 'moving along it', while a 'strip' of whatever material does not. This meaning of οΐμος must be secondary, even if it should be paralleled on a Mycenaean tablet,6 because the primary meaning of the stem within Greek must comprize 'motion' in order to account for the relation to οίμάω and οΐμα. Risch's suggestion about a possible connection of οΐμος with ϊεμαι 7 would fit in with this and with the meaning of άνηκε analyzed above 39 ff.

Durante, 'Epea pteroenta'. Die Rede als Weg' 242 ff. Cf. above Introd. I I and n. I I . 6 Durante, 'Epea pteroenta' 243 n. 2 referring to Ventris and Chadwick, no. 276, but see Chantraine's reference to Ruij. 7 Risch, Wortbildung der homerischen Sprache 44. 4

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Documents

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Appendix 2 Homer's Trojan plain (to p. 51)

It has usually been assumed that the Trojan plain of the Iliad was a presentation of the actual plain of Troy, and that, one way or another, the details of the Iliadic plain ought to be identifiable with specific features of the physical plain. Concerning the difficulties of reconciling Homeric topography with the actual facts of the topography of the Trojan plain, ]. M. Cook says1 that 'in the present century the assumption has generally been that there is a single true and complete solution of the problems which can be reached' by methods varying with various scholars. Cook comments, 'the question that is not asked is whether there ever was such a solution', and he agrees with the words of the early Schliemann who said, 'Homer is an epic poet, and no historian; he writes with poetic licence, not with the minute accuracy of a geographer.' The actual physical nature of the Trojan plain studied by Cook in great detail, both archaeologically and topographically, is not the principle or order constituting the arrangement of localities referred to in the Iliad. Homer's Trojan plain is a poetic construction with its own peculiar character and order. 2 Its outstanding features strung out across the plain from the walls of Troy to the Achaean ships are the following: the oak-tree of Zeus, the fig-tree, the tomb of Ilus, the ford of the Scamander, the 'rise' or hillock on the plain, and the Achaean ditch and wall. In the case of each of these features, their local position is made clear at an early stage. But they are not simply landmarks. They are specific visual presentations or pictures or images serving the poet's striving to arouse a vivid and strongly visual experience in his audience. 3 But beyond that, most of them are consistently associated with a particular sort of situation or with a particular party or person in the poem. For the poet himself in his 1

J. M. Cook, The Troad, An Archaeological and Topographical Study 91 f. Camps, An Introduction to Homer, Appendix 2 105 f. and 108 par. 2; Griffin's concepts of 'significant objects' and 'symbolic scenes' are relevant here, Homer on Life, chap.1. 3 W h e n Andersson, Early Epic Scenery 25, 26, 27 speaks of 'Homer's indifference to scenic detail' or 'his neglect of visual factors', this is said from the point of view of later times. The features of Homer's plain are visual, but each o n e is a 'significant object', and therefore simple. 2

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singing, these are poetic elements marking the construction of the action. The oak-tree occurs eight times in the Iliad, once in a simile (Π 767) which makes it irrelevant to our quest, once in a speech, and 6 times in relation to the movements of the action, 4 times in canto 2. When Sarpedon, a Trojan ally, is wounded, his companions carry him out of the battle, and place him 'under the beautiful oak-tree of Zeus, bearer of the αίγίς' (Ε 693) where they remove the spear from his thigh: it is here that they can do this in safety. That this is due to the position of the oak being close to the Trojan walls becomes clear when it occurs next: Hector returning to the city (Z 237 ff.) is surrounded by the wives and daughters of the Trojan warriors by 'the Scaean Gate and the oak-tree', a formula which is used also in I 354 and Λ 170. Both the position near a gate of the Trojan fortification and the carefree presence of the women shows that this oak is associated with safety for the Trojans. When Apollo and Athena meet by the oak-tree (H 22), Apollo, protector of Troy, persuades Athena to stop the battle by letting Hector fight a duel with some Achaean, and as preparations for the duel are made, the two gods sit in the likeness of vultures 'on the tall oak of Father Zeus, bearer of the aegis' (H 60). Twice in this canto, the excellence of Zeus' oak is described, for its beauty and for its height, as nowhere else in the poem. In each of the four passages, it is connected with protection and safety for the Trojans. But it is also associated with Hector, and indeed with the aura of death, though still distant, which surrounds him in this canto. It is the role of Sarpedon 4 when wounded to incite Hector to fight and eventually to kill Patroclus which will be the cause of his own death. Hector coming to the city goes to his meeting with Andromache, a scene of final parting and followed by wails of lamentation. In the duel between Hector and Ajax, Hector is 'not yet' doomed to die (H 52), but he would certainly have been killed by Ajax, if the heralds had not stopped the fighting at nightfall. In canto 3, the association between the oak-tree and the idea of Hector's death is made explicit when Achilles reminds the men of the Embassy that as long as he himself ranged freely over the Trojan plain, Hector did not dare to go beyond the Scaean Gate and the oak-tree (I 354), and that even then he once barely excaped from Achilles' attack. But in the battle-action itself of this canto, the spear-point of Agamemnon's advance does not reach as far as the oak-tree and the Scaean Gate. 4 It might be objected that at this point in the poem, the 'role' of Sarpedon indicated above would not yet be apparent. This would be true for the audience at a first hearing of the Iliad. It would not be true of the poet whose conception of the 'motif of Sarpedon would be fixed in his mind from the very beginning.

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Those Trojans who in their flight from him arrive there (A 170) stop and wait for each other in safety. Agamemnon is wounded and has to retreat (A 251 ff.) before reaching the oak-tree. In cantos 4 and 5, the oak-tree is not mentioned. 5 In canto 6, the Achaeans would have taken Troy, if Apollo had not sent forth Agenor to make a stand against Achilles. The god stands by him, 'leaning against the oak, wrapped in thick mist' (Φ 549). The result is that all the Trojans, except Hector, flee into the safety of the Trojan walls. Hector alone remains outside 'in front of Ilion and the Scaean Gate' (X 6). The oak-tree is not mentioned: Hector's death is too close for any foreboding of it. The oak-tree stands, then, by the Scaean Gate, that is, close to the Trojan walls, and it is associated with safety for the Trojan troops, but also with a foreboding of death for Hector. Moving out from Troy we encounter the fig-tree which occurs four times, once in cantos 2 and 3, and twice in canto 6. The position and associations of the fig-tree become evident in canto 2 in Andromache's desperate attempt to keep Hector safe. She proposes that he should stay on the wall (Z 431), and station his men by the fig-tree from where the wall has been attacked three times and is most vulnerable. She does not suggest that Hector should stand with his men by the fig-tree. Its neighbourhood is associated with danger for Troy and for Hector, but still seems safer than the open plain. In canto 3, the Trojans flee before Agamemnon's attack 'past the grave monument of Ilus over the middle of the plain past the fig-tree rushing eagerly towards the city' (A 166ff.). Just before this, Zeus has removed Hector out of the slaughter (163 f.). It is likely that the briefly told removal of Hector by Zeus (which anticipates Zeus' message to Hector to keep back from the fighting until Agamemnon is wounded) occurs just before the Trojans' flight past the fig-tree because of the association in the poet's mind of the fig-tree with grave danger for Hector: it is too early in the story for Hector to flee past the fig-tree. This may be a case of 'negative foreshadowing'. For, this is precisely what happens in canto 6 when Hector pursued by Achilles races for his life (X 161) 'past a look-out place and the windtossed fig-tree' (X 145) and then past the 'Springs of Scamander', 6 where previously in times of peace the

5

Cf. n. 9. To return to the actual topography of the Trojan plain and the question of its relation to the H o m e r i c plain of Troy, The 'Springs of Scamander' appear to have been inspired by an actual physical p h e n o m e n o n still f o u n d today in the Troad (pace Griffin, Homer on Life 21). The feature in question is the Kirk Göz which m e a n s 'forty eyes or springs', near the village of Pinarba?i. According to Cook (144), they are 'neither hot n o r cold, but tepid'. But the oral tradition of the local villagers has it 'that Kirk Göz 6

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Trojan women used to wash their clothes. This picture from the secure and peaceful life of the past intensifies the terror of the Trojan champion fleeing past the fig-tree. 7 Earlier in canto 6, the danger of the figtree for Hector is perhaps foreshadowed by the danger this or some other fig-tree had represented for his brother Lycaon (Φ 37). He was once caught by Achilles as he was cutting off branches to serve as rails for a chariot, and was sold into slavery, but now has been killed by Achilles. The two trees, the oak and the fig-tree are related to each other both in position and in associations. The poet uses this most effectively in canto 6. Apollo 'leaning against the oak' protects, as we have seen through Agenor the fleeing Trojans until· they are safe inside the citywalls. Hector pursued by Achilles is not represented as running past the oak-tree by the Scaean Gate. For, whenever he tries to run close to the walls in the hope that his own men might protect him by their missiles from above, Achilles forces him out towards the plain (X 194 ff.).8 So, in the race for his life, he must run along the 'cart-road away from the wall' (146) and past the fig-tree. 9 The tombstone of Ilus stands further away from Troy, and beyond the middle of the plain (A 166). It occurs three times in canto 3 and once in canto 6. It is associated with the Trojans in all of its four occurrences. This is to be expected, because Ilus is the grandfather of Priam (Y 236 f.). In canto 3 (K 415 f.), Hector by night holds his council 'beside the monument of divine Ilus, away from the din', that is, the din of the Trojan troops encamped on a 'rise' in the ground. 10 It is a place of quiet and safety. During the aristeia of Agamemnon which follows, the Trojans flee 'past the monument of Ilus, ancient descendant of Dardanus over steam (or smoke) in winter', and women still come to these springs to wash their clothes. Cook comments (145): 'If it could be shown that Homer was not primarily concerned with scientific accuracy the case against the identification would be weakened.' He believes that 'if we are disposed to look for a natural feature that could have inspired the poetic description, only inveterate prejudice can deny that honour to these springs.' Since the Homeric plain of Troy and its detail is a poetic construction, we are free to believe that in describing the Springs of Scamander the poet was in fact inspired by the springs of Pinarba^i. Cf. Griffin, Homer on Life 22. Cf. also the preceding simile ( X 191) where the fawn (Hector) tries to hide under a bush. 9 The oak-tree and the fig-tree are not mentioned in cantos 4 and 5. In canto 4 (Book Π), attention is focussed on Patroclus, his victory and death in front of Troy. In canto 5 (Book P), the Trojans successfully drive the Achaeans defending the body of Patroclus back from the city walls. For the rest of canto 4 and 5, both fighting and other events take place on the plain or near the Achaean ships camp, far away from the two trees. 7

8

10

Cf. Ameis-H. ad loc, cf. K. 160.

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the midst of the plain' (A 166 f.). But after the turn of the battle, when Agamemnon is wounded and retreats, Paris wounds Diomedes with an arrow from there so that he also has to retreat. Paris shoots his arrow 'leaning against the column, work of men's hand, on the gravemound of Ilus, Dardanus' son, an elder of the folk in the old days' (A 371 f., tr. Latt.)· In this canto, the grave of Ilus functions as a poetic image marking the changing fortunes of the combatants: peaceful safety for Hector's council, flight of the Trojans, victorious advance of the Trojans. The balance goes, one might say, to the Trojan ancestor's grave being a place of advantage to the Trojans. When in canto 6, Priam has passed the grave of Ilus, he waters his beasts in the Scamander, and it is here that Hermes comes to protect him on his further journey. This implies that Priam is still safe in the neighbourhood of the grandfather's grave, but not beyond it. 11 While the main river of the Troad, the Scamander, also called Xanthus, is difficult to locate in its course, the ford of the Scamander or Xanthus which is mentioned three times in a pair of formulaic lines is clear in its position. It is plain from the description of the Trojan watch-fires in Θ 560 f. that the Xanthus, in part of its course, cuts through the plain more or less at right angles to a line connecting Troy and the Achaean ships: 12 'Such in their numbers blazed the watchfires the Trojans were burning between the waters of Xanthos and the ships, before Ilion '(tr. Latt.). If this is taken together with two passages in Book Ω (349 and 692 f.) where Priam travelling from Troy to Achilles' cabin and back is protected by Hermes between the ford of the Xanthus and the Achaean camp, one may assume that the ford is about half-way between Troy and the ships, - somewhat nearer to the ships, since it is on the Achaean side of the tomb of Ilus. 13 As for the associations of the Scamander or Xanthus, this river is, of course, the river of Troy and its land. As Onians says, 14 'rivers were re-

11 Cf. Griffin, Homer on Life 23. The contrast between the ancestor's grave which 'should be a scene of peace, but now . . . is surrounded by "weapons, dust, slaughter, blood, and turmoil", as Agamemnon massacres his descendants' is strikingly brought out. But 1. the wound which Paris inflicts on Diomedes is not 'superficial'. He has to withdraw from the battle (Λ 3 9 9 ff.), advises the other wounded Achaean leaders against fighting themselves (Ξ 128 ff.), and together with Odysseus comes limping to the assembly, leaning on his spear (T 47 ff.), although he has recovered by the time of the Funeral Games (Ψ 811 ff.). Diomedes' contemptuous words (Λ 385 ff.) are an expression of his bravery, not of the facts. 2. 'At the tomb of Ilus Priam stops to water his mules'. The tomb and the 'river' (Ω 351) are not in the same place: they have passed (παρέξ . . . έ λ α σ σ α ν 349) the tomb of Ilus before they come to the river. 12 13 14

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Cf. Scheibner, Der Auflau des 20. und 21. Buches 34. Cf. above η. 11. Onians, Origins of European Thought 230.

garded as generative powers and givers of seed, as which their waters were conceived' and were the source not only of all vegetation, but also of the people's children. This is why Hector called his young son, prospective king from the royal line of Troy, 'Scamandrios', while others called him Astyanax (Z 402). The Trojans also sacrificed bulls and horses to the river, giver of their fertility (Φ 131 f.). The formula about the ford of the Xanthus runs like this: 'But when they came to the crossing place of the fair-running river, of whirling Xanthos, whose father was Zeus the i m m o r t a l . . . ' (E 4 3 3 f . = Φ I f . = Ω 692f., tr. Latt.)

Let us note that this river, as indeed any river, is a god, even the son of Zeus. The river's divine name which is used in this formula is Xanthus, while Scamander is his name as used by humans (Y 74). In canto 4 (Ξ 433 ff.), Hector struck by a boulder hurled by Ajax faints and is carried off towards the town. Coming to the ford his companions lay him on the ground and pour water over him. He recovers, but then faints again. Apollo sent by Zeus comes to Hector who is revived by 'the mind of Zeus' (O 242) and again restored to the battle by Apollo. Here, the river's waters refresh Hector, and by the river's ford divine help comes to him. At the beginning of canto 6 (Φ 1 ff.), Achilles coming to the ford in his pursuit of the Trojans chases part of them into the plain towards the city and drives the other half into the river where he slaughters them. He shouts in triumph: 'and there will not be any rescue for you from your silvery-whirled strong-running river, for all the number of bulls you dedicate to i t . . . ' (130 f. tr. Latt.). The river growing angry deliberates how he can stop Achilles and 'ward off destruction from the Trojans' (138). When Achilles persists in his slaughter, the river rises in fury and threatens to engulf him. Achilles is saved only by the fire of Hephaestus which sets the plain ablaze and boils the river. Then Achilles turns away from the river: the Xanthus has protected his Trojans to the best of his ability against their strongest enemy. Finally, in canto 6, when Priam accompanied by Hermes on his return journey from Achilles' cabin comes to the ford (Ω 692 f.), the god leaves him and goes to Olympus, while Priam proceeds alone towards the city, now obviously in safety. When Priam on his outward-bound journey, having passed the tomb of Ilus, 'stayed his mules and horses to water them in the river' (350), this is, in all probability, at the river's ford. It is here that Hermes sent by Zeus joins him in order to take him safely to Achilles. 15

15 Cf. above n. 11. The association of 'fords' with the divine seems to be very ancient, cf. Mahabharata I 4 0 0 f . :

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The occurrences of the 'Ford of Scamander' are distributed in relation to three of the main characters: Hector, Achilles, and Priam. The two Trojans, son and father, are helped, while their greatest Achaean enemy almost loses his life. The 'rise on the plain' occurs three times, once in a speech of Nestor in canto 3 (K 160), and twice in relation to the battle-action in cantos 3 and 5, in a formulaic line (Λ 56; Y 3). Nestor deeply troubled wakens Diomedes from sleep and says: 'Son of Tydeus, wake up! W h y do you doze in slumber nightlong? Do you not hear how the Trojans at the break of the flat land are sitting close to the ships, and narrow ground holds them from us?' (K 159 ff„ tr. Latt.)

This 'break of the flat land' or 'rise in the plain' must be on the Trojan side of ditch and wall, which is breached by Hector only at the end of this canto (M end). It cannot be far from the wall, because, as Nestor says, it is close by the ships. Nestor's words do more than indicate a strategic position. They express his fears: since the Trojans are on the 'rise of the plain', the situation is dangerous for the Achaeans. When at daybreak the battle begins, 'The Trojans, for their part, were marshalled on the other side on the rise of the plain' (Λ 56) 16 , and Agamemnon's άριστεία soon turns to defeat and withdrawal. In canto 4, after Patroclus has been killed and his body brought to Achilles, Polydamas warns the assembled Trojans not to remain until dawn on the plain by the ships, because it is too far from the walls of Troy if Achilles reenters battle (Σ 255 ff.). His proposal is fiercely rejected. When in the latter part of canto 5 the Achaeans arm around Achilles by the ships, the Trojans are arming on the other side on the rise of the plain as before (Y 3). Now this situation is dangerous for the Trojans: Achilles' advance ends with the death of Hector. The image of the 'rise on the plain' is used by the poet to mark both physically and emotionally the turn of events from Achaean defeat while Achilles is absent, to their victory when he returns to battle.

1 (16) 206, 5 f . "The bull of the Bhäratas set eye on lovely and colourful woods and lakes, ο Bhärata, and on holy fords.' 207, 1 ff. T h e chief of the Kurus made donations of thousands of cows at the fords and sanctuaries . . .' 207, 5 ff. 'Many a ford did he see in succession' (and rivers) 'Thus seeing all the fords and hermitages, and hallowing himself with the sight, he gave wealth to the Brahmins' 2 0 7 , 1 0 f f . ' . . .to Manalura. There he went to all the sacred fords and holy sanctuaries.' 2 0 8 , 1 Thereafter the bull of the Bharatas went to the fords on the southern ocean, very sacred all and ornamented with ascetics, (and story about five fords: deserted . . . crocodiles . . . princesses). 16 For the lack of a verb cf. Schadewaldt, Iliassst. 43.

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The most important feature of the whole Trojan plain is the Achaean wall and ditch built in the latter part of canto 2 (H 433 ff.)·17 By its very nature it not only marks a position and has definite associations, but it has a decisive effect on the action, because it is a physical obstacle in the path of Hector's advance to the ships. The position of the Achaean wall and ditch is indicated by Nestor when he proposes their building in canto 2. He advises that the dead should be buried 'a short distance away from the ships' (H 334), a grave-mound be made over the pyre, high bastions be built up against it, with gates and a deep ditch outside the wall close to it' (341). It becomes plain later that there is room enough between wall and ditch for guards to be posted there (I 67. 87; Κ 194 ff.). The space between the ditch and the ships, though the distance is short (H 334), is big enough to contain the camp of the Achaeans (some of the cabins seem to be between the ships), but also the throng of the whole army and their chariots in full battle-array when Hector drives them into that space. This wall with its ditch so carefully pictured is, as we have seen, 18 the poet's principle means of organizing events from the end of canto 2 to the end of canto 4, while later on the wall at least is less important. On the face of it, the wall and the ditch are associated with the Achaeans who built them. According to Nestor in canto 2 (H 338 ff.), the high bastions are to be a 'means of defense' or a 'protection' for the ships and the heroes themselves, and the ditch is to keep back the chariots and host of the enemy so that the war may not press hard upon the Achaeans. When the wall and its bastions are described as being built, their purpose is repeated (437). When the digging of the ditch is mentioned (440), its formidable nature is enhanced by the words 'broad' and 'mighty' and by the addition of the erection of stakes. So far everything moves as one would expect it. But then Poseidon complains to Zeus (H 445 ff.) that the Achaeans have built this wall without sacrificing to the gods and that its fame will overshadow the fame of the walls of Troy built by Poseidon himself and Apollo: and Zeus grants permission to Poseidon to destroy the wall, once the Achaeans have left. While this is outside the immediate action, it at once detracts from the glory of the wall. Soon after we see the wall with the eyes of Trojan Hector (Θ 177 ff.). When Diomedes is forced by the threefold thunder of Zeus to withdraw, Hector shouts triumphantly to his men that he now knows Zeus to be on his side and that the Achaeans were fools when they contrived these 'walls, feeble and con-

17 This has been, as is well know, a notorious source of contention between analytic and unitarian scholars. 18 Cf. above 51.

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temptible' as they are; they would not check his battle-power, and his horses would easily leap over the ditch dug by them. Under this perspective, wall and ditch are not seen as a protection for the Achaeans, but as an obstacle, though not a serious one, in Hector's path to the destruction of the ships. In canto 3, Odysseus pleading with Achilles is doubtful whether the ships can be saved unless Achilles enters the battle: 'The Trojans in their pride, with their far-renowned companions, have set up an encampment close by the ships and the rampart, and lit many fires along their army, and think no longer of being held, but rather to drive in upon the black ships' (I 232 ff.). Here, the wall or rampart is not viewed as a means of defense of any importance for the Achaeans. Achilles confirms this view when he says mockingly to the Achaean ambassadors (I 348ff.; tr. Latt.): 'Indeed, there has been much hard work done even without me; he (scil. Agamemnon) has built himself a wall and driven a ditch about it, making it great and wide, and fixed the sharp stakes inside it. Yet even so he cannot hold the strength of manslaughtering Hector.' The final part of canto 3 (Book M) which culminates in the breaching of the wall, begins with a description of the insufficiency of the wall to keep back the Trojans and of its eventual destruction by Poseidon and Apollo. The future anihilation of the wall through rain and rivers by the gods is told in detail. This picks up Poseidon's plea to Zeus and Zeus' promise in Book H. This wall is then once again characterized, not as a wall that will stand, but as a wall soon to be destroyed. Then (35), the poet turns back to the battle for the wall, the Achaeans being driven behind it by the attacking Hector. It is striking that the detail of the wall and ditch is described when the wall is under attack, not when it is being built in canto 2 (Book H). The terror of the wide ditch with its overhanging cliff faces and its sharp, strong and big stakes is made apparent when Hector tries to incite his men to cross it (M 49 ff.). Soon after, the detail of the wall becomes intensely graphic when Hector leads the attack against it: 'They tore at the projections on the outworks, and broke down the battlements and shook with levers the jut of the buttresses the Achaeans had stuck in the earth on the outer face to shore their defences' (257ff., cf. also 444). The mighty bolt (291) securing the central gate is mentioned first just before Sarpedon's attack which is the prelude and precondition for Hector's final success. The detail of the gate is described in full as Hector prepares to burst through it: 'So Hector lifting the stone carried it straight for the door leaves which filled the gateway ponderously closefitted together. These were high and twofold, and double door-bars on the inside overlapping each other closed it, and a single pinbold secured them' (453 ff. tr. Latt.). The description of the formidable strength of this fortification at the very moment of its destruction intensifies both the 158

achievement of the Trojans and the seriousness of the reverse for the Achaeans when it is breached.19 Only when the wall has been breached, Nestor seeing it reports on the disaster to Agamemnon: 'For the wall has gone down in which we put our trust, that it would be a protection for our ships and us, and would not be broken' (Ξ 55), and Agamemnon replies elaborating on it: ' . . . and the wall w e built has done us no good, nor the ditch either where the Danaans endured so much, and their hearts were hopeful it would be a protection to their ships and them and could not be broken' (Ξ 66 ff.). Here, after the event, as it were, after the battle for the wall, the hopes and feelings of the Achaeans are expressed, as they were when the wall was proposed and built. But they played no part in the description of the fighting, as we have seen. Finally, Apollo supporting the attacking Hector bridges the ditch and flattens the wall with his divine might where Hector attacks: 'easily, as when a little boy piles sand by the sea-shore when in his innocent play he makes sand towers to amuse him and then, still playing, with hands and feet ruins them and wrecks them' (O 362 ff.). The associations of the wall and ditch of the Achaeans are then complex. Although they were built by the Achaeans for the protection of their ships and themselves, the poet represents the wall primarily as an obstacle for the Trojans to be conquered with glory, and as an annoyance to the gods to be destroyed. The great wall with its ditch is, therefore, continually associated with its own destruction at the hands of gods and men. W h y has the poet represented it with this inherent tension of purposes? The three battle-sites marked out, as we have seen, by the Achaean wall, are the localities in which the fighting takes place at the end of canto 2, and canto 3, and in consequence at the beginning of canto 4 (cf. Ν 679 ff.). In these three cantos, the promise of Zeus to Thetis to beat back the Achaeans in honour of Achilles is being fulfilled in three movements of Achaean advance and retreat. It is because of the dominant role in the narrative of Zeus' will to defeat the Achaeans that the poet casts the gloom of destruction over the wall, this great work of the Achaeans attempting to save themselves and their ships. But besides this emotionally loaded function of wall and ditch, the poet also uses them, and more particularly the ditch, in a simpler manner to mark off the movements of men involved in a particular action. In the Doloneia (Book K), the first move of the Achaean leaders' action is a visit to the guards 'in front of the gates', proposed by Agamemnon ( K 126 f.). Next, he and his chosen companions cross the ditch (194.

19

I owe this point to my former colleague A . Stewart.

198), and hold a council.20 Sent off by this council, Diomedes and Odysseus accomplish their famous night-raid. After Odysseus has reported back to Nestor, he and the other Achaeans return to the camp 'through the ditch' (564). The triple unit of council - nightraid - council is neatly marked off by crossing the ditch outward previously and homeward afterwards. In canto 4, the άριστεία of the two Ajaxes with their companions culminates in the flight of the Trojans through the ditch (Ο 1 f.). After the reversal through Zeus and Apollo, the Achaeans flee back again through the ditch, and take shelter behind the wall (O 344 f.). When, after the firing of the ship of Protesilaos, Patroclus attacks in the centre (Π 285), the Trojans withdraw from the ships first (305), and then deserted by Hector (368) flee through the ditch in which many come to grief with their chariots (369ff.; 378f.), while the divine horses of Achilles carry Patroclus straight across it (380 f.). The danger of a Trojan flight through the ditch on chariots had been foretold by Polydamas (M 62 ff., esp. 71 ff.). In canto 4, the ditch is then used three times to mark the swaying of battle, covering both the third advance and retreat movements of the Achaeans and the victorious advance of Patroclus on the way to his death. In canto 5, the ditch beyond the wall functions as the boundary of the Achaean camp. The Achaeans carrying the body of Patroclus flee under the attack of Aeneas and Hector: 'Many fine pieces of armour littered the ground on both sides of the ditch, as the Danaans fled' (P 760 f.). When the body of Patroclus is still not rescued, Achilles is urged by Iris 'to go to the ditch and show himself to the Trojans' (Σ 198) so that the Trojans may withdraw in fear; and Achilles goes from the wall to the ditch where he stands (Σ 215), and shouts 'across the ditch' (228). It is also from 'beside the ditch outside the wall' (Y 49) that Athena at the beginning of the divine battle raises her war-cry when she does not shout from the beaches. Finally towards the end of canto 6, wall and ditch, and the gate complete with bolts appear once more (Ω 443 ff.) when Priam seeking to ransom Hector's body arrives there. Hector aided by Zeus had to break through by force. Old Priam is accompanied by a god: Hermes puts the guards to sleep, opens the gate pushing the bolts back, and leads him in. To sum up, the concrete picturesque features of the plain, positioned in more or less definite places, and often associated with particular situations and emotions, aid the singer as 'sign-posts' along the path of his song. In part, they serve the organisation of the narrative material into the six cantos. The association of the oak-tree with danger for Hector 20 The aggressive daring of the placing of this council is contrasted with the safe council of Hector by the grave of Ilus. Cf. Appendix 3, 167.

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occurring three times in canto 2, the grave monument of Ilus, more often than not associated with safety and victory for Hector and the Trojans occurring three times in canto 3, the Achaean wall and ditch with their complex emotional overtones constituting the cuts between cantos 2 and 3, and 3 and 4, the ditch being the boundary of the Achaean camp, and crossed three times in canto 4, all these features of the plain help to mark the phases of the battle. But their function is not limited to an expression of the cantos and their divisions. They can have a specific function in a narrative block smaller than a canto, as the ditch in Book K. Or again, their occurrences can span longer stretches of the epic, like the fig-tree in books Ζ, Λ, and X, the Ford of the Scamander in Ξ, Φ, and Ω, and the rise in the plain in Κ, Λ, and Y. It is perhaps striking that all these localities' of the epic, except the rise of the plain, recur in the last canto so that the whole plain is, at the end, once more made vividly present. F. A. Yates21 has suggested that the art of memory, the mnemonics of ancient times, said to have been invented by the poet Simonides of Ceos (c. 556-468 B.C.), 'probably derived from an earlier oral tradition', that 'some form of the art might have been a very ancient technique used by bards and story-tellers.' The achievement of Simonides was, as she infers, to codify the ancient practice into rules. Both in ancient Greece and Rome, the art of memory was employed by orators to deliver long speeches (Yates 2). The situation of the early bard in delivering a long epic was not very different. In order to find out whether there actually was a connection between the practice of the oral singer and the later orator it will be necessary to describe briefly the occasion which, according to Cicero, is said to have brought Simonides to the invention of his art of memory, and in addition to give a short account of the developed mnemonic of ancient times. At the banquet of a Thessalian noble Scopas, Simonides sang the praises of his host, but also at length the praises of the twin-gods Castor and Pollux. Scopas paid half the sum arranged, and proposed that the gods should pay the other half. Soon after, a message came to Simonides from two strangers asking to see him outside the banqueting hall. Going outside Simonides found no one, but behind him the hall collapsed and killed all those inside. The dead were so crushed that their relatives could not identify their own kin. But Simonides was able to help them, remembering the place where each guest had sat (Yates 1-2). 22 According to Cicero, Simonides derived the basic features of his mnemonic art from this event: an ordered sequence of places, and tied to or associated with each place the vivid image of a person. Cicero em21 22

Yates, The Art of Memory 19. Cicero, De Oratore II. IXXXVI 3 5 1 - 4 .

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phasizes the superiority of sight in intensity above all other senses (Yates 4) 2 3 ; and Simonides was the first to compare poetry with painting which only makes sense if both poet and listener are gifted with strong visual imagery (Yates 28). The general principles of the developed mnemonic in ancient times are, according to Yates (p. 3), the following: 1. the formation in one's memory of an ordered series of places or loci. These might be rooms, or specific features in a building, whether real or imagined (p. 3); they might be places seen on a long journey, or in going through a city (p. 22 f.). 2. the placing of images onto these loci, which means that these images are tied to the ordered sequence of the places. These images must be striking so that they are easily remembered; and they seem to be of such a kind that, by means of loose association, they suggest the subject-matter of the speech at the particular point. As Yates says (p.3), 'We have to think of the ancient orator as moving in imagination through his memory building whilst he is making his speech, drawing from the memorised places the images he has placed on them. The method ensures that the points are remembered in the right order, since the order is fixed by the sequence of places in the building.' The most obvious point of comparison is the movement from place to place in an ordered sequence. Simonides follows in imagination the order of the places in which the guests sat along the dinner-table. The orator while making his speech walks in imagination from place to place in his memory building. The poet, as we have seen speeds along the 'path' (οϊμη, of his song back and forth over an imagined Trojan plain, studded from one limit to the other with a sequence of specific places or loci. Next, each place or locus is characterized by a vividly imagined visual image. Simonides 'sees' the face of each guest. The orator 'sees' each striking image which he has placed on each locus in building up his memory building. The poet 'sees' the vivid images of the oak-tree by the Scaean Gate, the fig-tree, the grave monument of Ilus and so on, as he moves with the persons of his story over the plain. Thirdly, Simonides associates with each envisaged face the name and kin of each guest. The orator associates with each image in its locus a new point of subject-matter arising in the course of his speech. But Homer - and this is the fundamental difference - associates with the locus-images the fortunes of a person or one of the fighting parties; and this has been deduced, and indeed is knowable only, by interpretation of more than one occurrence of each image. Each face in the banquet23

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Cicero, op. cit. IXXXVII 357.

hall of Simonides, each image in its locus in the memory building of the orator occurs once only. But the Iliadic locus-images occur a number of times. This means that the Homeric plain of Troy is only in a very partial sense a 'memory plain'. The sequence of events in the narrative does not simply follow the order of the locus-images on the plain. For, owing to the fact that these locus-images occur more than once and that their associations with people and parties are not tied to only one, specific event, an imagined 'walk' along their sequence, say, from Troy to the Achaean ships (a sequence which we have adopted in our discussion) would not yield any sequence for remembering any major part of the action of the Iliad. What is the difference? The Homeric locus-images are not invented to aid memory of a ready-made sequence of events or ideas or whatever else. They are aids in constructing a narrative on the run. The shapes of construction have their own order, as we have seen. But many parts or phases of these narrative-structures are 'marked' by locus-images which pin the narrative content down locally on the Homeric plain of Troy, and connect them with a definite 'type' of situation. In this limited way, they would also help the singer to remember the sequence of his narrative. The Homeric locus-images are closer to the banquet hall story of Simonides, in so far as the loci are significant in themselves: they are the setting of the story which is told. Each locus on the Trojan plain is a place near Troy or in the middle of the plain or near the ships, and it is to this quality of a 'land-mark' that the poet often adds other associations. In the same way, each guest's seat in the Simonidean incident has its definite local position at the table. But for the orator, the position and sequence of the loci and their images have no significance in themselves: they wholly subserve the orator's remembering the order of points in his speech.

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Appendix 3 In defense of the Doloneia (to p. 83 ff.)

Both 'goal-directedness' in Book K, and the Embassy and the Doloneia as forming a doublet have already been discussed p. 69 and 83 ff. The two main arguments against the authenticity of the Doloneia have been the following: 1. the style of the book, 2. the supposed lack of connection of the Doloneia with other parts of the Iliad. I will follow Schadewaldt's statement of the objections. 1 Speaking of the 'strangely baroque mannerism of the style' Schadewaldt asked for a stylistic investigation comparing the individual motifs of the Doloneia with similar ones in the rest of the Iliad in order to determine whether we have in the Doloneia a variation of the same style or a basically different style. The proposal sounds good theoretically, but I do not believe that such a distinction can be objectively determined. It will always be a matter of taste, too often influenced by preconceptions deriving from traditional scholarly opinions. I see the work of Heusinger, 'Stilistische Untersuchungen zur Dolonie, ein Beitrag zur Echtheitsfrage des Κ der Ilias' (suggested by Schadewaldt) as an exploration of the heightened style of the second part of a doublet, while Heusinger himself infers from the style of Book Κ that its author was not the poet of the Iliad. For an example of this style cf. p. 84 and notes 43 and 44. The more serious objection to the Doloneia as Iliadic has been formulated by Schadewaldt in this way 2 : 'Book Κ does indeed presuppose the Iliad, but there is no other part of the Iliad (including the Games of Book Ψ) which contributes so little towards the context of the action of the Iliad, it is purely an episode.' This is, I believe, conclusively disproved by Sheppard: 3 'Some Greek exploit is urgently needed if the army is to take the field for to-morrow's battle in fine spirit. To start the battle with the Greeks dispirited would be artistically fatal. The distress which led to Agamemnon's offer to Achilles was crushing in its effect. The rejection of the appeal is a serious matter. Something must clearly happen before the army can be ready for a confident attack. So Diomedes and Odysseus, the two soldiers of A t h e n e , . . . are united in a

1 1 3

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Schadewaldt, Iliasst. 142 f. n. 4 ; cf. Reinhardt, Ilias 243 ff., esp. 248. Schadewaldt, loc. at. Sheppard, The Pattern of the Iliad 84.

brilliant nocturnal raid.' 4 The Doloneia does not merely 'contribute' to, but constitutes the transition between the defeat of Book Θ , the almost wholly unsuccessful Embassy of Book I, and the large-scale attack of the Achaeans in Book A. 5 It is true that the Achaeans have already applauded Diomedes' call to battle at the end of Book I. But if this were the only presentation of the Achaeans' revival of courage after their fearfulness and despair of I 1 - 8 , it would be very thin. The revival begins at the end of Book I, is broadly presented in Book K , and comes to its climax at the beginning of Book A with Eris sent by Zeus filling each man's heart with strength and desire for battle. Sheppard's judgement about the Doloneia is fully endorsed by Klingner's detailed interpretation of the book which shows (353,346ff.) that the whole and the detail of Book Κ are composed in such a way as to portray a change from danger for the Achaeans and despair to fresh courage and, at least, some success. In addition, there are a number of links which connect the Doloneia with what precedes and what follows in a way which is not merely external or superficial. In I 6 6 ff. Nestor proposes sending out guards, and says that he will himself see to it. 6 In I 80 the guards move out to their posts, led by seven warriors first of whom is Thrasymedes, son of Nestor, and among others Meriones - not accidentally. In Κ 55 ff. Agamemnon tells M e n e laus that he intends to rouse Nestor to go and check on the vigilance of the guards, since Nestor's own son, Thrasymedes, and Meriones are in charge of them. The significance of the original presence and then emphasis on these two warriors is being revealed only 'piece-meal', as often: it foreshadows what is to come. Nestor complies with Agamemnon's request (180 ff.), and the guards are found to be wide awake to the danger of a Trojan night-attack (188 f.). As Nestor passes through the ditch he is followed by all the Argive kings called to take counsel with him, and also by Meriones and Thrasymedes who have been invited to join them in deliberation (196 f.). The reason for the selection of Thrasymedes and Meriones becomes apparent only when Diomedes and Odysseus arm for their night-attack. It is they who lend to Diomedes and Odysseus, apart from other armour, helmets devoid of metal which by its gleaming surface is so dangerous at night (254 ff.). 7 Diomedes re-

Willcock, Companion to the Iliad 114. Fenik, Rhesus 4 0 n. 20 agrees, but grudgingly calls this view of it 'an emergency exit'. 6 Cf. Klingner, 'Dolonie' 3 4 0 η. 1.; Heusinger's (Stilistische Untersuchungen 100ff.) censure of the handling of the matter of the guards and of the βουλή in the Doloneia arises out of his failure to see the close continuity of Books I and K. 7 Cf. Virgil, Aeneid 9. 373 f. 4 5

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ceives from Thrasymedes a helmet of oxhide without knobs or plume 'which is called καταιτυξ', as the poet says (258 f.),8 Odysseus from Meriones a very ancient type of helmet fitted with pieces of boar's tusk. The checkered history of this helmet, gained originally through an act of house-breaking by Autolycus, Odysseus' maternal grandfather, a master of theft (τ 395 f.), and finally given to Odysseus to protect his head, strikes the key-note for the subsequent stealthy and daring expedition, fittingly and with wry humour. 9 The story of the guards and their leaders runs, then, continuously through Book I and K. The emphasis on Thrasymedes and Meriones would be pointless without the part they both play in Book K. The story finds its conclusion in Ξ 9-11 where Nestor is said to take up the shield of his son Thrasymedes which was lying in the tent while Thrasymedes had his father's shield. Andrew Lang10 has argued that Nestor's exchange of shields with his son is intelligible only on the basis of events in Book K. While one might shrink from the suggestion that the audience would as a matter of course imagine the detail of what happened about the shields, it is sufficient to remember that Thrasymedes in Κ 255 had given his own shield to Diomedes and that Diomedes sent out by Nestor also returned to Nestor (540 ff.) with the shield of Thrasymedes of course. The passage is a compliment to Thrasymedes for his past generosity to Diomedes, and perhaps implies his present glory in using his father's famous shield in battle (cf. Θ 192). Without the back-reference to Book Κ the passage is pointless, if not senseless. The relationship between Nestor and Diomedes constitutes as close a link. In I 57 ff. Nestor (who has been saved by Diomedes from mortal danger in Θ 80 ff.) praises Diomedes for his speech, but points out that there is more to say, and that Diomedes is indeed very young, and could be his own youngest son. In Κ 164 ff. when Diomedes has been wakened by Nestor, he reproaches the old warrior for never ceasing from toil, while other younger men could go round and waken the kings in his stead; and he addresses him pointedly as 'old man' at the beginning and at the end of his speech (164. 167). Nestor defends himself by pointing to the desperate situation of the Achaeans. Then he asks Diomedes to waken swift Ajax and Meges, and adds with tart good humour, 'for you are younger, - if you have pity on me' (176). On the background of Book I these words have the overtones of a delightful

8 Cf. Lorimer, Homer and the Monuments 243 'an article b e l o n g i n g to the remote past', as d o e s the boar's tusk helmet given to O d y s s e u s . Cf. Kirk, Songs 111. 9 Cf. the delighted scholiast o n 271 (Erbse): ή δ ε ί α ή περιπέτεια, τ ό δ ι ά τ ο σ ο ύ τ ω ν έ λ β ο ϋ σ α ν τ η ν κ υ ν η ν π ά λ ι ν σ κ ε π ά σ α ι ' Ο δ υ σ σ έ α τ ό ν έξ Α ύ τ ο λ ύ κ ο υ . 10 Andrew Lang, Homer and his Age 2 7 6 - 8 , referred to by Shewan, The Lay of Dolon 144.

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teasing repartee. 11 The motif of Diomedes' youth comes to a climax in Book Ε where even Nestor has failed to give good advice, and Agamemnon asks for a better plan from anyone 'old or young' (Ξ 108). Then Diomedes having balanced his youth by his illustrious lineage gives advice which is obeyed. 12 The contrast in characterization between Diomedes and Odysseus is the same in Book Κ as in Book I and elsewhere. According to Andersen, 13 Diomedes 'appears throughout as the warrior, while Odysseus is the cunning strategist.' This contrast may well have been traditional. But the collaboration between Diomedes and Odysseus in the Doloneia is clearly 'negatively prepared for' 14 in Θ 93 ff. where Diomedes asks for Odysseus' help in vain, while in Κ 242 ff. his request is granted. The relationship is turned round in Λ 312 ff. where Odysseus successfully calls for Diomedes' help. 15 Also, the successful attacks of Diomedes in Book Ε are contrasted with his flight enforced by Zeus in Book Θ, as his success in Book Κ is contrasted with his being wounded and having to withdraw in Book Λ. Both pairs of events are part of the advance and retreat movements of cantos 2 and 3. Two 'localities' on the Trojan plain which occur in Book Λ receive their full significance by their characterization in Book K. In Λ 56 the Trojans are marshalled 'on the rise of the plain'. Where this is and what its position implies emerges from Nestor wakening the sleeping Diomedes with words of great anxiety, because the 'rise of the plain' is so close to the Achaean camp (K 160). Again, when Agamemnon follows the Trojans in hot pursuit, they flee past the grave-monument of their ancestor Ilus in the midst of the plain (Λ 166 f.). This stands in no need of explanation, but it is much more significant, if it is remembered that in Κ 415 Hector held his council there in peace and quiet. For now, through Agamemnon's valour, this neighbourhood has become full of the uproar of battle and dangerous for the Trojans. 16 Three further points might be mentioned: 1. the relation of the gods to men in Book K ; 2. the Doloneia as a 'night-piece'; 3. the scholion T. 1. According to Heusinger 67 ff., the immediate closeness of Athena to a man, Diomedes in Book Ε and to Achilles in X 216 ff., is distinct from the more distant relationship of Athena to Odysseus and Dio11 Cf. 0 v i n d Andersen, Diomedes 1 2 5 ; Willcock, comm. on Κ 164 'σχέτλιός έσσι "you are hard". This from Diomedes to Nestor is complimentary, as is άμήχανος (167)', but it also implies a humorous kind of exasperation. 1 2 Cf. Shewan, Dolon 146. 13 0 , Andersen, Diomedes 131. 1 4 Cf. above 69. 1 5 Cf. Eichhorn, Die Dolonie 8 (I owe knowledge of this work to Professor H. Erbse); 0 . Andersen 132 differently. 1 6 For further detail cf. Appendix 2 n. 20.

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medes in Book K. Heusinger takes this as a sign of different authorship. It is, in fact, caused by the composition of the epic. At the end of canto 2 (Θ 1 ff.), Zeus forbids intervention of the gods, but Athena begs for and receives permission to help by counsel (Θ 36 f.). So she helps by sending the good omen of a heron's call (274 f.), filling Diomedes with strength (366.482), and in the end urging him to return to the camp in time (507 ff.). 'Standing close beside him' (508) does not imply an 'epiphany', as Eichhorn seems to think,17 but only a voice to be heard by none except Diomedes. Athena is obliged to keep her distance on account of Zeus' command. 2. It is well known that in the breadth of characterization of the heroes and the minutiae of detail this book stands out among the rest of the Iliad. But it is not remembered that this is the only book in the poem in which action by night is described. Klingner18 appreciates this with fine sensitivity, but makes it a handle for separating Book Κ from Homer's Iliad. Surely, this kind of thing could not have been artistically described more than once in one poem so that much that is unusual is to be expected. Book I takes place by night, too, but mostly indoors. In Book K, life by night out-of-doors in the Achaean camp and on the plain between the two armies is described with sensitive awareness for the difference from the usual life of the day, but also for the difference from the usual night during which fighting stopped and people slept. Moving about is cautious and furtive. What the heroes wear both for resting and a raid is different from their daylight equipment. Under cover of darkness things can be said and done which the glare of daylight would prevent or temper, as e.g. the emotional outbursts of Agamemnon. These differences are not such as to demand different authorship for explanation; they are an expression of Homer's art. 3. If, finally, Book Κ belongs where we find it in the Iliad, what is the meaning of the remark of scholion Τ (cf. also Eustathius) on Book Κ that 'the ancient critics say that this rhapsody was a separate composition by Homer, and not included by him in the Iliad, but added to the epic by Peisistratos'?19 It is clear from the establishment of the 'Panathenaic rule'20 that by the sixth century the practice of performing individual episodes from the Homeric epics was so common that the knowledge of the two epics as great poetic compositions was threatened. That practice must have been very ancient. An example of it is found already in θ 74, as we have seen. 21 One could easily imagine that the Doloneia

17 18 19 20 21

168

Cf. Eichhorn 16. Klingner, 'Dolonie' 359 ff. Transl. Willcock, Companion to the Iliad 113. Cf. Davison, 'The Homeric Question', Companion 238. Cf. above In trod. 11.

was so frequently performed by itself that the memory of its place in the Iliad was lost, and that therefore the Peisistratean 'reconstitution' of it in its proper place in the Iliad could be viewed as an 'innovation'.

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Appendix 4 'Supplication among the Limba of Sierra Leone (to p. I l l )

A n extraordinary parallel to Greek 'supplication' given m e by Ruth Finnigan on m y enquiry about anything like it in her experience, is the Limba theteke1 (Ruth Finnegan, 'Performative utterances a m o n g the Limba'). The Limba are a remote people in northern Sierra Leone. Theteke 'means to plead, entreat, apologize, pray or acknowledge a fault. Someone "pleads" by uttering one of the standard phrases which express request, entreaty or desire for forgiveness ( . . . Limba w o r d s . . . ) , usually adding "I am pleading with you" (. . . Limba w o r d s . . .). Sometimes, this is followed by the pleader clapping, putting a hand on the other's ankle as a sign of humility, or, in extreme cases lying prone on the ground. Another person may also be begged to intercede on the pleader's behalf and this is usually accompanied by a gift, or, in an important case, by a substantial payment. W h e n someone pronounces the standard w o r d s in a prescribed situation even without a gift, the action is described as "pleading". A n y quarrel should, ideally, be ended b y "pleading" on the one side and "acceptance" on the other.' 'The normal word for praying is also theteke, and the w o r d s and actions of prayers are similar to those associated with other begging: people use the same terminology and show the same signs of humility (in extreme cases, for example, lying prone on a grave to beg a dead father's f o r g i v e n e s s ) . . . In sacrifice too the dead are "pleaded with" and an animal is killed to give t h e m h o n o u r in exactly the same way as a gift accompanies a plea to living people.' Here the pleading words, the humble posture, the possibility of pleading through someone else, and the accompanying gift are all features equivalent to those of Greek supplication. The stress of the Limba on the importance of the 'pleading w o r d s ' confirms the interpretation that Achilles has every right to reject A g a m e m n o n ' s gifts, since they are not accompanied by conciliatory words. Furthermore, '"pleading" is also c o m m o n in the related but even more formal context of a law case. A man "pleads" to make a formal admission of guilt and usually follows this up with a gift or payment.' This

1

170

Finnegan, 'Performative Utterances among the Limba' 540 f.

association of limba 'pleading' with legal procedure is again reminiscent of Aias' reference to the fact that a man may accept payment even from the murderer of his brother or his son, while Achilles remains unbending (I 632 ff.). But what is most striking is that, just as the goddesses of supplication are related to Zeus, so 'pleading' is related to Kanu, God. The text of the Limba man's statement is given in full on p. 111. 2

1 For a picture of 'Prisoners in Bangladesh, Pleading for their lives' cf. Burkert, Greek Mythology and Ritual 44f., 164 η. 4 2 ; I owe this striking reference to Dr. Mary Knox of Victoria University, Wellington, New Zealand. Burkert's explanation of the ritual of 'supplication' seems to me too simple.

171

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177

Index of important topics and names Achaean Wall, see Trojan plain Achilles, passim wrath of, against Agamemnon 10, 11, 12, 113, 1 3 2 - 4 , 141 f.; abrogated 91, 133, 136, 137, 141 wrath of, against Hector 138-40; abrogated 120, 140 'formulaic' killing by 94 f., 98, 99 see arming-scenes, Appositional Expansions (for Meleager-story), supplication Agamemnon, passim in despair 84, 126 f. humbled by Odysseus 127, 137 honoured by Achilles 137 see aristeia, arming-scenes, self-abasement, supplication Ajax, son of Telamon 41, 42, 43, 67, 70, 84, 125, 130, 131, 132, 134, 141 as fighter, mostly defensive 47 n. 6, 49, 50, 53, 61 f., 87-90, 94-8, 100, 138, 142, 160 Anticipation 5 9 - 6 3 , 67 Aphrodite 27, 56, 60, 68, 81 f., 92 Apollo 18, 34, 38, 42, 108, 109, 110, 113 as god of Troy 62, 81, 151-3 in relation to Aeneas 56, Hector 99, Patroclus 109, Achilles 139 Appositional Expansions 104-110 Nestor's tale 106 f. Meleager-story 108 f. 'Prelude' of Iliad 109 f. Ares 27 (Odyssey) 39, 56, 81, 82 aristeia (sequence of heroic deeds in battle) 74-6, 86, 94, 101 of Agamemnon 43, 47 n. 6, 49, 50, 53, 61, 77-80, 83, 93, 99, 153, 156 of Diomedes 53, 57, 75, 80-2, 121 of Ajax 53 of Ajaxes 160 of Hector 77 of Achilles 49 n. 16 Aristotle 17, 142 on unity and dramatic nature of Homeric epics 12

178

on procedure of composing of epic 143 f. Arming-scenes 54, 56, 59, 100-3 of Paris 54, 101 of Agamemnon 54, 77, 101-3, 104 of Patroclus 54, 102 f. of Achilles 54 of Athena 54, 103 Art of Memory 161-3 Athena 28, 48, 62, 105, 116, 137 and Diomedes 35, 39, 56, 60, 68, 81 f. see arming-scenes 'Call for help' sequence (in fight for Patroclus' body) 52, 53, 56, 58, 59, 8 6 - 9 2 , 94, 121 Cantos, passim length of four books each 47 f. division between 57 f. Dalang (puppeteer of shadow-play) 1 1 , 1 7 n. 45, 24, 26 n. 18, 29, 31, 35, 37, 46, 48, 98 n. 23 Demodocus 11, 25, 26, 27, 31, 33, 38 (blind), 39, 40 Diomedes 35, 39, 68 f., 128 and n. 7 as fighter 40, 47 n. 6, 49, 50, 54, 56, 57, 60, 61, 8 0 - 2 ('doublet'), 85, 86, 127 as speaker 127, 128 in Doloneia 61, 165-8 Doloneia 48 n. 13, 61, 69, 83-6, 164-9 Doublets 59, 8 0 - 2 (see aristeia), 8 3 - 6 (see Doloneia) Duals in Book I 127 n. 4, 86 n. 46 Embassy, see supplications Festivals 18, 25, 27, 28, 4 6 f . Panionian 18, 28, 47 Panathenaean 20, 26, 28, 48, 168 on Delos 18, 25, 28, 47 Ramazan 28 Foreshadowing and predictions, see goals Formulae 74, 93-103 priority of motif-sequence to formulae 97 increase of spontaneity with 'weight' in context 9 8 - 1 0 0

occurring also in heroic tales in prose 97 and n. 21 Goals 59f., 62f., 93, 104 foreshadowing of 6 7 - 7 2 , 1 0 1 , 1 0 9 , 1 2 4 , 138, 152 (negative), 153, 165; see Hector predictions, see Zeus see Polydamas Guest-friendship, friendship 113, 130, 131, 132, 141, 146 Hector, passim successes in battle 48, 51, 57, 60, 69, 87-91, 131, 134, 135, 142, 157-60 foreshadowing of his death 61, 86 n. 49, 70, 72 duel with Achilles and death 33, 51, 61, 62, 70, 71, 103, 136f„ 142, 151-3 fate of his body 67 f., 124, 138-41 Hera, with Athena 48, 54, 60, 81 with Poseidon 48, 6 1 , 1 9 Hesiod Theogony 23, 34, 35, 36, 45 n. 47, 107 n. 15, 117 n. 18 Works and Days 23, 2 7 , 1 1 7 n. 1 8 , 1 4 8 f. Honour (time) 61, 115 f., 118, 120, 121, 123, 125 f., 129 f., 137, 146 Iliad Homer's achievement in 9 - 1 2 antecedents of 10 f. performance of 18, 4 6 - 5 8 structure of 10, 13, 4 6 - 6 3 , 141 f. theme of 11 f., 141 f., 144, 146f. time needed for performance of 47 f. 'knees' in act of supplication 118, 124, 133 and n. 27, 138 f., 141 Madness, blind (ate) 114, 117, 118, 119, 122, 123, 129, 135 and notes 35 and 37, 137 Meal shared 130, 136f. see guest-friendship Muses 11, 21, 27, 28 effect on poet 33, 34-9, 149 invocations to 23, 36f., 41-5, 53, 56, 59, 61, 62 Odyssey 9, 11, 24-6, 27, 28, 29-3, 33, 34, 38 f., 40, 44, 45 η. 47, 51 f., 116 η. 16, 142 f., 148 f. Odysseus (in the Iliad) 79, 117, 128 and η. 8, 132 diplomatic speaker 60, 83, 84, 85, 86, 127, 129, 130 f., 136f. fighter 50, 127, 164-7 Omens 53, 54, 56, 59, 72

Oral poet social position 25 travel 17 occasions for singing and length of it 11, 26-8, 3 0 - 2 'called' to be a poet 34 f. development of his art 17 blindness 38 f. Oral poetry in Yugoslavia (Serbo-Croat oral poetry) 14, 17, 23, 28f., 46 Uzbekistan 9, 24, 26 n. 18, 29, 31, 34, 37, 48 Kirghizia (Manas) 9 f., 12 η. 21, 16, 24, 29, 35, 65, 76 η. 7 Malaya and Java (shadow-plays based on Indian Mahabharata or Ramajana) 11, 24, 29 n. 35, 31, 35, 46, 48, 98 n. 23 Sumatra 15 f. Mongolia 12, 16 n. 40, 23 n. 5, 33 n. 4, 75 n. 6 Somalia; Sunjata epic of Manding, W.Africa 14 f. relation to writing 13ff„ 18 f. Patroclus, passim see arming-scenes 'call for help' (in battle for his body) madness, blind supplications Phemius 25, 33, 35 f. Plato 12, 17, 23, 26, 34, 63 Polydamas as 'Warner' 70 f., 72 Poseidon 28, 40, 42, 48, 56, 61, 62, 6 9 , 9 9 , 157 Remembering 73 f. Reversals, see 'turns' Selection of part of an epic for performance 11, 168 Self-abasement 118, with reference to Agamemnon 126,127 n. 4, 128 f., 136 Similes 71, 81, 84, 87, 88, 91, 98, 102, 103 n. 33 Supplication by Chryses (rejected by Agamemnon in 'Prelude') 109f„ 113 f., 1 2 1 , 1 2 5 , 1 3 6 by Thetis (accepted by Zeus) 117 f., 122 by Embassy (rejected by Achilles) 61, 83-5, 114 f., 123, 125 f., 130f., 132, 136 by Patroclus (half rejected by Achilles) 123, 125, 133 f., 136

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by Tros, Lycaon and Hector (rejected by Achilles) 138 f. by Agamemnon (accepted by Achilles) 128 £. by Priam (accepted by Achilles) 124, 140 f. by friends and family (first rejected, then accepted by Meleager) 109 Goddesses of Supplication 114, 116f., 118f., 129, 132, 141 and guest-friendship 131, 146 among the Limba of Sierra Leone 170 f. Trojan plain, localities on 37, 4 9 - 5 1 , 150-63 oak-tree 50, 51, 151 f., 153, 160 fig-tree 50, 51, 152 f., 161 tombstone of Ilus 50, 51, 153 f., 161, 167

180

ford of the Scamander or Xanthus 50, 51, 154 f., 161 'rise on the plain' 50, 5 1 , 1 5 6 , 1 6 1 , 1 6 7 Achaean wall and ditch 37, 49, 50, 51, 61, 99, 1 5 7 - 6 0 Turns' 42, 43, 47 n. 6, 4 8 - 5 0 , 53, 5 9 - 6 2 Zeus, passim working against the Achaeans 48, 53, 55, 56, 60, 61, 62, 69, 71, 77, 8 7 , 1 0 0 helping the Achaeans 90, 134, 140 promise to Thetis 52, 56, 59, 60, 61 f., 122 f., 134, 141 f., 159 major declarations of intent 52, 56, 72, 122 f., 134, 140 as father and protector of Supplications 63, 114, 117, 119, 141 142, 146

Index of interpreted passages Iliad A

Β Γ Δ Ε Η I

Κ Λ

Ξ

Π 6 - 5 2 : 109 f. 202: 116 a n d n. 16 239-43: 125 500-2: 118 447-51: 105 4 8 4 - 7 : 36 f. 328-38: 101 105-113: 106 733-47: 103 7 6 - 8 6 : 67 f. 1 5 8 - 6 1 : 126 f. 4 9 6 - 5 1 5 : 1 1 4 - 2 0 . 130 5 2 9 - 6 0 5 : 108 f. 1 5 - 6 : 84 a n d η. 43 1 7 - 4 6 : 101 ff. 1 9 - 2 4 : 104 f. 9 5 - 1 0 0 : 94 ff. 609-10: 133 655-762: 106f. 508-12: 42

Ρ Σ Τ Φ Ω

1 1 2 - 3 : 42 131-144: 102 2 9 3 - 3 0 3 : 95 f. 2 0 5 - 1 4 : 9 1 f. 7 6 - 7 : 128 f. 364-91: 103 35-119: 138f. 1 3 4 - 7 : 140 f. 478-9: 141 568-70: 119

Odyssey θ λ V ρ χ

7 3 - 5 : 26 a n d η. 19, 33, 39, 4 1 , 1 4 8 f . 4 7 9 - 8 1 : 33 f., 148 f. 3 3 3 - 4 : 44 213-4: 119 3 8 2 - 7 : 25 5 1 8 - 2 1 : 44 3 4 7 - 8 : 35 f., 148 f.

181

Index of Greek words α ί γ ί ς 62, 90, 91, 103, 105, 151 α ί δ ώ ς 119, 1 2 9 , 1 3 9 , 1 1 7 η. 20 (αίδοΐος) ά μ α ρ τ ά ν ω 115 η. 15 ά ν ί | κ ε 39 f. ά ρ ι σ τ ε ί α see aristeia in first index ά τ η (cf. also 'madness, blind') 117, 118 £., 119 n. 3 1 , 1 2 2 , 1 2 3 and n. 4 6 , 1 3 5 n. 35, 37, 129 (άασάμην), 135 (άάσθη) αύτόΟεν 128 n. 8 δίκη, δ ί κ α ι ο ς 116 n. 16, 136 £. έλεος 139 έ π ε ι σ ό δ ι ο ν 143 ε ύ χ ω λ ή 114 η. 6 θ ω μ ό ς 39 f. ί δ ι ο ν 143 Ικετεία (cf. also 'supplication') 113 η. 4, 1 2 0 , 1 3 1 , 1 3 3 η. 27 (Ικέτης), 119 (Ικετήσιος)

182

κηληβμός (also θ έ λ γ ε ι ν , τέρπειν) 44 Λ ι τ α ί (cf. also 'supplications, Goddesses of Supplication') 114, 116-121, 132, 141, 120 (λιτή, litare) λ ό γ ο ς 143 f. μένος 35, 75 μετάβηβι 33 μηδέν ά γ α ν 142 ξενία (cf. also 'guest-friendship') 131 ο ί μ ά ω 33, 148f. ο ϊ μ η 11 n. 11, 26, 33, 51, 148f., 162, 33 (οίμα), 148 f. (οΐμησε, ο ΐ μ ο ς ; cf. όδός) π ό λ ι ς 145 f. τ ι μ ή see 'Konour' in first index ϋβρις 116 ύπερβασίη 116 and n. 16 φ ι λ ό τ η ς 131, 146 n. 17, 130 (φιλοφροσύνη), 132 (φίλοι)

Günther Zuntz

Griechischer Lehrgang I: Lektionen II: Exercitia. Vokabular III: Appendix Grammatica. Summa Grammatica (Studienhefte zur Altertumswissenschaft 15,1—III) 1983. Insgesamt 884 Seiten, mit 10 Abbildungen, kartoniert im Schuber Dieser Lehrgang ist in vielen Kursen an der University of Manchester / Großbritannien, der University of Texas in Austin und der Universität Tübingen erprobt worden. Er basiert auf griechischen Texten von Homer bis Mark Aurel und bietet Materialien und Anregungen für ein möglichst effektives Erlernen der griechischen Sprache. Die griechischen Lektionen enthalten reiches Material zur Ableitung oder Illustrierung der grammatischen Phänomene. Exercitia verschiedener Art und Vokabular dienen der Befestigung des jeweils Erarbeiteten; die ausführliche Appendix Grammatica erläutert den grammatischen Inhalt jeder Lektion und die Summa Grammatica systematisiert ihn. Der Lehrgang ist nicht auf einen speziellen Lehrplan, ein Curriculum oder eine Methode zugeschnitten und kann an Schulen und Universitäten ebenso wie zum Selbstunterricht und als wertvolle Ergänzung für den Lehrer verwendet werden. Auch wer früh Gelerntes auffrischen und vertiefen möchte, findet hier einen neuen und unmittelbaren Zugang zu Sprache und Denken der Griechen.

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Hans von Kamptz · Homerische Personennamen Sprachwissenschaftliche und historische Klassifikation. 1982. XXVI, 388 Seiten, Leinen

Friedrich Eichhorn · Homers Odyssee Ein Führer durch die Dichtung. 1965.160 Seiten, kartoniert

Hermann Fränkel - Die homerischen Gleichnisse 2., unveränderte Auflage mit einem Nachwort und einem Literaturverzeichnis herausgegeben von Ernst Heitsch. 1977. VIII, 124 Seiten, kartoniert

Wolf-Hartmut Friedrich · Verwundung und Tod in der Ilias 1956. 122 Seiten, broschiert. Abhandlungen der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Göttingen. Phil.-Hist. Kl. Dritte Folge 38

Karl Reinhardt · Die Ilias und ihr Dichter Herausgegeben von Uvo Hölscher. 1961. 540 Seiten mit 3 Abb., kartoniert

Archaeologia Homerica Die Denkmäler und das frühgriechische Epos. Begr. von Friedrich Matz und Hans-Günter Buchholz. Im Auftrage des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts herausgegeben von Hans-Günter Buchholz

Fulvio Canciani · Bildkunst, Teil 2 Homer und die Denkmäler (mit einem Anhang: Handwerk, Teil 2. Die archäologischen Zeugnisse/Lieferung L 2). Lieferung Ν 2. 1984. IV, 99 Seiten mit 24 Abb. und 4 Seiten Tafeln, kartoniert

Siegfried Laser · Medizin und Körperpflege Lieferung S. 1983. IV, 188 Seiten mit 23 Abbildungen, kartoniert

Gisela Wickert-Micknat · Die Frau Lieferung R. 1982. 147 Seiten mit 12 Textabb. und 6 Seiten Kunstdrucktafeln, kartoniert

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